Tape
This morning, while adjusting my shirt, I accidentally yanked off the last lingering bit of adhesiveness in the tape over the incision on my navel. The tape that's acting as extra insurance in preventing me from splitting open my incision and having a big gaping wound on my stomach and getting blood all over my shirt. Do you know how much my dry cleaner would charge to remove a blood stain? Not to mention the fact that, you know, I'd have a GIANT OPEN WOUND ON MY STOMACH. The tape is supposed to fall off on its own after about a week; it's been four days. Apparently, this tape is quite precocious.
So, I pretended that I was inspecting the surgeon's handiwork on Dr. 90210 and stood in front of the full-length mirror. I have to say--and I honestly never expected to feel this way, being both fond of martyrhood and slightly vain--I am pretty proud of this scar. Aesthetically, it's not too bad. It's very neat and, so far, is healing well. I'm proud of my body for healing in this way, and I'm proud of myself for resting and doing what I needed to do to get better. The scar is physical manifestation of the fact that I've been to low depths in the world of infertility and am still here, and still persisting. It's something my children may ask me about someday--"Mommy, why do you have a scar here?"
Then I can tell them how badly I wanted them, how Daddy and I prayed and prayed and watched and waited and hoped for them and dreamed of them, and how Mommy's doctor looked inside her tummy to make sure that everything would be all ready for them to grow, and now they're here, and I get to hold them in my arms!
Or is that weird? That's a little weird, isn't it? But in kind of a sweet way. Listen, you work with what you've got. Some kids were "surprises," and some kids were born on the other side of the world, and some kids were planned and arrived right on schedule, and some kids took their sweet time, and, in the end, none of it matters. It's what you do with what you have.
So, I pretended that I was inspecting the surgeon's handiwork on Dr. 90210 and stood in front of the full-length mirror. I have to say--and I honestly never expected to feel this way, being both fond of martyrhood and slightly vain--I am pretty proud of this scar. Aesthetically, it's not too bad. It's very neat and, so far, is healing well. I'm proud of my body for healing in this way, and I'm proud of myself for resting and doing what I needed to do to get better. The scar is physical manifestation of the fact that I've been to low depths in the world of infertility and am still here, and still persisting. It's something my children may ask me about someday--"Mommy, why do you have a scar here?"
Then I can tell them how badly I wanted them, how Daddy and I prayed and prayed and watched and waited and hoped for them and dreamed of them, and how Mommy's doctor looked inside her tummy to make sure that everything would be all ready for them to grow, and now they're here, and I get to hold them in my arms!
Or is that weird? That's a little weird, isn't it? But in kind of a sweet way. Listen, you work with what you've got. Some kids were "surprises," and some kids were born on the other side of the world, and some kids were planned and arrived right on schedule, and some kids took their sweet time, and, in the end, none of it matters. It's what you do with what you have.
Copyright 2005-2010 by Arabella and Trattoria Breve. All rights reserved. 10:59 AM
7 Comments:
Arabella, it's not weird at all. As I wipe the tears from my eyes and nod my head in agreement with you, let me say that I think your outlook on all of this is amazing. The scars we bear, both internal and external through this process of infertility will all be worth it someday.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I love scars. Exactly for the reasons you described. They each have a story, they each remind me of the health of my body, and when you're healing, the old ones remind you of a time you were broken and you put yourself back together.
(Also, they make you look bad-ass. Jim told me a big scar on his back was from a knife-fight when we first started dating, and to this day, even though I know it was where he had a mole removed, I still think he's tougher than shit...)
I don't think it's weird at all. You should be proud of a scar with that much meaning behind it.
It's not weird! We tell our boys when they fall down that chicks dig scars. lol. Scars have stories to tell!
What Arabella? You're not gonna tell the kids that you once starred in a famous movie called "Alien"? Or that your belly split open when you ate all your Halloween candy at one time even when your Mom told you to save some for the next day? Or that Daddy tells such good jokes that you literally split your sides laughing?
I'm sure those are the stories Ty will tell about your scar. ; )
Ahhh! You made me shiver - surgical tape is the worst.
I understand the pride - it's evidence of all you've been through and hopefully the beginning of your luck turning. :)
And you can always tell your kids its from when you were a pirate.
You said it sister! (And OUCH!)
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