Scars

I have a scar on my right hand, right at the base of my thumb. I remember exactly what happened. I was in high school, and we were bringing our dog Chloe back home from the kennel after a vacation. We had the leash on her, because she had the tendency to bolt out of our yard if we weren't paying attention.  I put the leash around my wrist and opened the door when we got home, and she bolted out of the car and yanked me with her! My hand wrapped around the side of the car door, and cut a 1" cut along my hand.

I see the cut now, and I smile. I don't remember the pain, but I remember Chloe, and the joy she brought into our lives for so many years.  The pain of the moment and the frustration with my dog has faded into nothing over the years, and all I'm left with are happy memories.

I have a new scar. This one is much fresher, and much more vivid. It's a 7 inch long scar across my abdomen.  When I see this scar, I am also reminded of an event.  But the scar that remains also carries with it some intense feelings.

I just finished meeting with my mom group. We all have babies between 6 months pregnant and 14 months old.  One mom today was talking about how she feels insecure in her parenting, and worrying that her baby doesn't realize that she loves him--like their bonding together had been stunted somehow. She said she felt like it stemmed from having a C-section, and then not being with him every moment during the first week he was born (her son also had to go to the NICU for 6 days).  The guilt from that experience was still haunting her--and her son is now 8 months old!

I find myself often thinking about whether or not certain things that are happening with Avonlea wouldn't be happening if I had been able to have a "normal" birth.  Thinking about how for the first week of her life, she didn't see me as the only caregiver. She had 18 different nurses and doctors taking care of her, and I wasn't able to be there 24 hours a day, like I would have if she had been born naturally.  Would she be having a hard time with the things she is having a hard time with if she had been with me constantly from her first minute outside the womb?

I thought about it a lot when we were having trouble breastfeeding for so long.  Like, her being in the NICU (and bottle-fed and on formula) completely handicapped our ability to bond with each other the way that "we are supposed to".  I read this article that I identified with really well: http://www.babycenter.com/0_how-love-blossoms-between-you-and-your-child_1417762.bc?page=3

I also think about how there are many experiences in life that I will be able to have (and have already had).  I have traveled the world. I have gone skydiving. I have performed in front of thousands of people. I have driven across the country.  But I will never be able to say that I birthed a baby--at least, not in the "traditional" way.  I had planned on it that way--I didn't want anything to help me during childbirth. I wanted to do it as naturally as possible. But that's not the way it turned out, and that has caused so much stress and anxiety as I have tried to process through the disappointment.

I am learning that all of these feelings are normal.  But, they also are not from God.  Part of my struggle is to throw off these feelings that Satan puts into my path and into my heart, and realize that my birth story is exactly how God had planned for me.  God knew that Avonlea would come into this world via a C-Section.  He knew that she would be in the NICU, and that I would struggle with the maternal insecurities that stem from that experience.

It's actually part of the reason why I love my scar so much.  I love what it represents.  It is a visual reminder to me that I am not in control of my life. I do not know what is best for myself, and as much as I like to think that my plans will be the best things for my life, they really aren't.  My struggle is to focus on Christ and who He is, and how much He loves me, and loves Avonlea.  I like to think that Jesus looks at his scars from the crucifixion the same way that I look at my C-Section scar.  The experience was painful and heartbreaking. But it brought the greatest joy into my life, and serves as a reminder that I would do the same thing again because it brought my sweet girl to me.  It is beautiful.

During our childbirth class, our instructor said that she had some clients (she was a midwife) that were still struggling to process and accept their birth stories 2 and 3 years after their kids' births.  And when I was in the class, I internally scoffed at that idea.  I was looking at it with the mindset of my own plan, and thinking, "well, that will never happen to me, because I am going to do things *this* way."

But now, looking at this side of the birth experience, I completely understand how that could happen to those ladies. I can see how, without friends and without Christ to lean on and cry out to, you could struggle with the disappointment and the guilt for years after a C-Section.  My prayer is that I will continue to talk to Him about my struggles and fears and doubts, because He doesn't want me to live in that space.

He wants me to continue to see my experience as beautiful and perfect--the way He had planned out for me.

I'm hoping that one day, the feelings that I have when I see the scar on my belly are the same as the feelings I have when I see the scar on my hand.