Mothering and Life in General
The Invisible Scar
Trying to work through my feelings from the birth of K2, I always find myself relating to mothers who have had a cesarean. I think it’s because of the loss of something they wanted, or the empty feelings they have.
Maybe it’s the realization that after a long time thinking it was them, that it really wasn’t. After looking into statistics, and birthing information, that maybe they could have had THEIR birth. Whatever their birth description was.
Time after time, I read stories about a mother posting her child’s birth story, not feeling fulfilled, and hearing her feelings about failure, betrayal, worthlessness and emptiness. I gravitate, because it is these women who fully understand my pain.
Yet, my scar is not pink, brown, nor white. It’s not a line or dots or curved, mine is deep within my soul, my scar is invisible. No one can see nor can they tell. I don’t have a symbol or a group to go too. Doctors pass out drugs or ‘induce’ the acknowledgment of my healthy child. No one understands, they say I had natural birth, so why fight with those who didn’t?
No one understands, no one other than these women.
I honestly thought I was over this, I really sincerely did. I thought when I wrote our story, that it would be closure, I was finally complete. I felt it was the hardest and deepest thing I could have done. To mend the pain and anger, to go on and be rid of the past that I can’t change.
Yet on the second of May, as I carried my daughter’s birthday cake from the grocery, through the mall, as I got to the store that takes me home, I felt my knees give out, my eyes weep, I could not catch my breath. All because, this time, three years ago…
Just a simple thought, that I have no control over. Me, as a control freak, that can’t control this. Three years ago, I was told she might not live. Three years ago, we where both fighting. Still three years later, I am trying to forget.
I may have had vaginal birth, I may have pushed her out like “a champ”, I might have had my doctor shake my hand, telling me I was a natural birther, and for one who has birth their first, did really well.
K2 might have been born VAGINALLY but it was the leading up to it, that bothers me now. For a year and a half I thought it was me. I thought it was my birth-right to have a preemie, since I am one myself. I thought maybe it was my body not absorbing iron, or that I was thin. I even thought it was because I lived on the 17th floor.
I thought it was me. Something I did or something I could have changed.
Three years ago today, was the day K2 and I were discharged from the hospital. When we both were set free to begin our lives as mother, daughter, father and brand new half-sister. A new family to learn and teach each other. Oh boy, did I ever learn.
Through nursing our daughter, I came to know that my body does know what to do. I am strong, natural and able. I read into why I might feel strong feelings, tear up about the NICU. Why I take to heart of a new mother’s wish of the “baby to be born soon” or that “it’s not big deal to be induced, at 36 weeks they are full term”.
The other day, I read on Facebook about a mother who is going to touch her scar on mother’s day for the first time, cry and be done with her feelings. I think about mine every April 20th, May 7th and May 15th, yet after three years, I am still not rid of mine.
Still today I am stuck between feelings of gratefulness that I have a beautiful daughter, who was always wanted; and the feeling of failure, void and mistrust. Two anniversaries in one day. I always hope that K2’s will trump the other.
I wish this mother luck, I hope she succeeds. Yet, if there is still feelings still there, don’t feel like you’ve failed at this too. I gave birth, what they call naturally, and after three years, my scar still will not heal.