The Mommy Scar
The scariest part of pregnancy, to me anyway, is the birth. I mean, have you seen what happens to a woman’s body when she gives birth? I wasn’t so sure I was ready for it, but there was no getting around it. The only thing I could do is mentally prepare. I had to start thinking about the beauty of it. After all, God specially designed the woman’s body to literally open up to give way for another life to take its first breath. Being able to give birth is like playing a major role in another one of God’s miracles. Yeah, I can do this.
I was in a daze while the nurse hit the main points of the thousand page document we had to complete prior to reserving our room at the hospital. It’s a good thing Ignacio was there to actually pay attention. My mind was rolling all over place. By now, I was getting used to all the appointments, blood pressure checks and the weight surging. I was comfortable with everything, but the birth. I was good for a while, but then fear would creep back and I would get nervous all over again.
How much is all this preparation and stuff going to cost us? Thank God for insurance! I couldn’t focus. I believe the only thing I heard the nurse ask me was, “Do you want an epidural?” “Yes! I want all the drugs!” I wasn’t trying to be a superhero. Pushing a human through your own body ought to be superhero enough, right? For those of you having natural births, I salute you. My “natural” was going to include some happy juice.
About ten weeks later, I gave birth to Demi, three months early. I was only 27 weeks and 2 days. I had developed Hypertension and Pre-eclampsia, so the doctors had to move fast to deliver Demi or I wouldn’t be here to share my experience and neither would Demi.
I guess I did all that worrying for nothing, because it was way too early to have a natural birth. I had to have her via Caesarean or C-Section. My doctor, whom I like to think of as an angel, prayed for me while the anesthesiologist injected the epidural. She promised me she would take care of me as if I was her own. Scared out of mind, I just wanted everything to be okay. I wanted my baby to be healthy. I wanted to live to see her. Just as we prayed, all was well.
Nine months later, I’m running my fingers across my C-section scar. As I look at my daughter playing with her father, my mind begins to wonder and then it hits me. I didn’t actually give birth to Demi. She was delivered by doctors and nurses. So does that make me less of a woman? Does it make me inadequate? I wanted to cry thinking about it, but I knew if I did, Ignacio would want to know what was upsetting me and I didn’t want to say anything. I thought it was silly of me to even think that negatively. No, honestly, I didn’t think he would understand.
Like clockwork, I stumbled across this article on Facebook about a group shaming women who had C-sections, saying they’re “lazy.”
Religious Group Says Women Who Have C-Sections Aren’t Really Giving Birth
Disgusting! What difference does it make? She still gave birth…I still gave birth, C-section or not. I’m not lazy! It’s not like I had a choice. I never wanted this scar. No, I didn’t experience labor pain, No, my water didn’t break. No, I didn’t have to push. For a minute I felt that my scar was a reminder of my failures… my failure to have a healthy pregnancy; failure to keep my blood pressure down; failure to carry my child to full term. Just a bunch of failures.
All of that negative thinking couldn’t be further away from the truth. As I lay here, running my fingers back across my scar I gently touch the scar tissue and think that I must be a strong woman to have endured such a deep cut. I think about all it takes to heal after the procedure. It’s not a cut, stitch and move on. There’s a long careful healing process. I had to hold a pillow to move around in my bed, to walk, and the worst was if I had to cough. You never realize how your muscles all move together for something as simple as a cough. There was so much emphasis on properly treating my scar so I didn’t develop an infection that could bounce me right back into the hospital.
In the beginning, I was sensitive about my scar. I didn’t talk about it. I never really asked questions. I felt as though the scar was a reminder that I’m not a real mom. So reading that article above upset me. I was afraid to talk about it, because I didn’t want anyone to look at me that way.
Now when I look at my scar, I’m reminded of God’s grace and mercy. I’m reminded that I will go through anything for my daughter. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure her survival and my own. My scar, though dark and raised, is beautiful. It’s my beautiful sacrifice. Denying my scar would be like denying the favor that God showered over me and my family. To be alive to see my daughter grow and come into her own is a blessing. So my scar is a blessing.
If you’re a C-section mom, YOU are brave, strong and yes, you are all woman! Never be ashamed of your scar. It just means you have no problems going to war for your family.
Blessings.
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MAMALOGUE is LSherie’s true stories of mommy life with a preemie.
Follow Demi Jade on Instagram and SnapChat @iamdemijade
