It's been exactly a year.
A year ago today, we discovered a ridiculous amount of fluid around my heart. We learned that bringing Ethan into the world alive and well was unlikely. A year ago today, I had my very first heart surgery. Three weeks from now, we will mark the 1 year anniversary of my second heart surgery.
My second heart surgery left a pretty big scar from the incision, and in fact covered up my first small scar.
|3 days post surgery...the second time around.|
I'd rather have that scar than not be here. I'd rather have that scar and have Ethan. My scar means I get to keep my baby boy. I get to hold him and love on him and listen to him scream bloody murder just because he has to ride in the car. I'm not embarrassed by that scar. I'm not ashamed of it. I don't plan on hiding it. I have every intention of continuing to wear the same clothing and bathing suits that I had prior to my surgery.
Almost all of my relationships and experiences have scars. Some are tiny, some are huge, but they never go away. Some of them were my fault, some of them were not. But they're still there. Sure, they've faded, but they are still there. I don't mind talking about them. I don't mind bringing them up, even though they make others cringe sometimes. A scar isn't a bad thing. It reminds us where we've been. It reminds us of how hard things used to be. It allows us to appreciate the way things are now. Again, it's better than the alternative. I'd rather have a scar in the friendship than not have the friendship at all. I'd rather have a scar in my marriage than lose my marriage. I don't want those scars to fade, I don't want to forget where I came from.
My scarred relationships aren't bad relationships. In fact, some of the ones that have the biggest scars are the strongest relationships I have. The best friendships and the most incredible marriage. It's easy for people to believe that something flawless is best, when I find that things that are the most flawed are often the finest. Aesthetically speaking, I love a good "distressed" piece, so why wouldn't I love a distressed relationship with someone? It's definitely a great conversation starter.
Scars are not ugly. That incision? That surgery? That disagreement with my friend? Those moments with my previous employer that protested my unemployment? The time I reported unacceptable behavior because I was pregnant? Those many times that I fell flat on my face and had to admit I needed help getting back up? That is when things were ugly. The wounds are ugly. The scars are not. To say those wounds hurt would be an understatement. The bigger the scar, the deeper the wound. The depth of our wounds are relative to our anguish.
I find what was left behind quite significant and symbolic. Something to be proud of, not to be ashamed of. I'm not ashamed to say that I was fired from a job, and that there is no chance in hell that company would hire me back because I stood up for what was legally owed to me. I'm not ashamed to say that I didn't speak to a dear friend of mine for nearly a year because of unrealistic expectations. I'm not ashamed to say that my husband and I broke up during our dating years because I was too afraid to admit he was the one for me. I'm not ashamed to wear a top that shows off part of my scar. I'm not embarrassed to answer questions about it.
|Still very visible, very large, and certainly not forgotten.|