Friday Blog Roundup - Scars

I've been kind of obsessed with scars lately, both physical and emotional. I had laparoscopic surgery last week and I was quite shocked by the intensity of the repressed fears about hospitals, doctors and surgery that surfaced in the days leading up to the procedure. Fears that I clearly haven't dealt with since our son died. And afterwards, well, there were the new physical scars to deal with.

So I've been thinking about scars. A lot.

They're badges of honor - reminders of the physically painful events we have endured and survived. You can point to a scar and let it tell your remarkable story of hurt, healing and survival.

But those same proud marks can also be very painful reminders of a devastating event, like the sudden loss of a child born via c-section. Seeing the scar that marks your child's entrance into a world she didn't live to see is difficult. Touching the tiny sliver of a line that was your body's last contact with your child is devastating.

And sometimes strangely beautiful too. HE WAS HERE, it seems to say. And when there is no proof left but that scar, it can be a very beautiful reminder indeed.

Emotional scars are an even greater mystery. They are lonely scars, visible only to you. A month after a miscarriage you might look perfectly composed. You might function the way you used to - the way people expect you to. But on the inside, the wound in your heart is still open and raw. And no one can tell. It's the loneliest feeling in the world.

Everyone who has lost a child through miscarriage, stillbirth or perinatal death has scars. Blogging is one way to deal with them - to exorcise the demons - as is evident from the posts I read this week.

In a beautiful and heartbreaking entry by Vegetarian Mom, she shows pictures of her scar running in a large arc from the top of her tummy to the bottom. She shows them because she has to - because it connects her to her darling Birdie and because she has found a way to see the beauty in it.

It might be hard for some of you to see, I understand. But I feel I need to share this, after all it is where our Birdie was born from, it is a hard scar of a woman to have but it is also a reminder of the birth of our babies and so it somehow transforms and becomes beautiful. It is still very hard for me to look in the mirror and see my scar, it's still so recent. At the same time when I run my fingers over it I am connected to Birdie.

Niobe also wrote an evocative post about her c-section scar this week. She cringes at it - at the fact that is seems to smile at her. Right now it seems that there is no beauty in it for her, and maybe there never will be. This kind of loss is sorrow at its most devastating and raw. It is what it is. You feel what you feel. It's never wrong.

The scar from my c-section curves between my hip bones, pinkish, raised, and slightly off-center. Though, for the most part, I try to ignore it, occasionally I look down and cringe. It will fade, with time, to a thin pale line, a permanent memento of loss and failure. But what bothers me most is that it has the shape of a smile.

Michelle is pregnant again after the loss of her second daughter, but her scars still linger. A subsequent pregnancy doesn't erase the sorrow - it isn't a magic salve that heals the pain of losing a much loved and wanted child, even though people who don't understand might think it is - or should be.

In fact, a new pregnancy brings with it fears and challenges that we never had before, as Michelle is discovering...

I accidentally found myself looking at crib bedding yesterday and found the most adorable crib set that has sock monkeys on it. I totally love it. I cannot buy it.

Rosepetal knows this all too well too...

I can't bring myself to type (or say) b-a-b-y instead of foetus. I'm experiencing all the head vs heart stuff again. I know with my head that this foetus has no baggage to bring into the world, that s/he is not responsible for what happened in the past, that s/he is not Moksha.

It still doesn't mean that I'm spending more time thinking about what's actually happening, nor entertaining any possibility that this could end in a live baby. As I told the OB, the concept of a pregnancy of mine ending in a live baby has become completely alien to me.

Scars are markers of a moment when life changed irreversibly and when we changed with it. Perhaps the most interesting thing about them is that they never fully heal. By virtue of what they are, they are just always there - even if no one else but you can see them. They fade, soften and change along with our bodies and minds, but they are always there.

Both a blessing and a curse.