Why I Turned Down C-Section Scar Cream…

Candace

6 years ago

postpartum csection surgery holding newborn

When I was 22 years old I had my second minor heart surgery. In a surgery like this, some hospitals will mark your strongest pulses so if for some reason they needed to, they could find your pulse in a hurry. When I was in recovery, I told my mom that I was going to tattoo that X on my inner ankle to remind myself forever that I was lucky my heart beat was there. Tattoo conversations with her were usually met with “I’ll buy you a doodle pad.”

But in this vulnerable moment, she said “ok”.

It was the end of June and after she headed out of town, I went over to a tattoo parlor by myself and got a tiny peach heart tattooed in that spot. I didn’t tell people for a while. In fact, my mom found out on a family vacation weeks later.

It’s fading now; 10 years later. But I love it. It wasn’t there for anyone but me.

It’s a mark to remind me that I have life. A life granted to me by that surgery.

With my first c-section, it wasn’t planned. I was so upset by the idea of a c-section that a scar felt like a line of shame rather than pride. How horrible is that? Why was there a cloud over my daughters birth? I wanted to burst with pride, but equally felt like every c-section mother needed to defend herself.

I was once in a Facebook group where a woman posted that mothers who had babies by c-section, like the one I had with my daughter, should’ve died by natural selection. I hope she never needs a doctor to save her.

But when my second daughter entered our life, I had had 2 years of awakening.

I could not have been more proud.

Through out my doctor appointments, my OBGYN told me about a scar cream they had. “It’s $80 and really helps.” Each time I said, “no, thanks.” and moved on. Same went with my follow up visit. Each time I felt more connected to my response.

I wanted this mark.

Just like my heart. It’s a reminder of a life granted to me by a miracle surgery. By strength and modern medicine.

No. I didn’t experience a vaginal birth. But that doesn’t make my girls or me any less.

It doesn’t matter how they get here.

Today in the shower, I looked down and thought – Wow. Every day I get to look down and check myself. Every day I get a reminder that those gorgeous girls came out of me. That I am strong as hell. And that even though nature erases the pain from your mind, I’m lucky enough to have a reminder right there just for me.

I understand wanting to remove scars. I understand wanting to erase painful memories.

But that line… I hope it never fades away.