In the very early hours of last Wednesday morning, as I was sitting in a hospital bed being prepped to deliver Brady, my nurse said something which she thought to be basically meaningless, but struck very deep with me.
We were sitting there talking about the c-section, and all the fun that goes along with being cut wide open. And that's when she casually brought up how neat it is to watch them remove the prior c-sections scar. As I then quickly learned, in repeat c-sections, the Doctors cut along the old scar on both sides, pull it out, and sew it back up, leaving no traces of the original scar whatsoever. Only a new one remains.
Conversation moved right on past it, but my head and my heart were stuck on that one simple statement: The old scar is gone...Elliot's scar is going to be gone...
After Elliot died, I was absolutely fixated on my scar, the scar that showed me where Elliot was born, the scar of the place where he came out crying - if even only for a minute. That scar was the part of me that was always supposed to be Elliots...and now it's gone. Now I have Brady's scar, and don't get me wrong, I absolutely love and adore it just as much - I love to have the reminder of the place Brady was born. But, thankfully, I also have Brady. I have his coos, and I have his cries, I have his smell and I have his warmth - I don't need any reminders of his physical existence here, because I have him here.
I guess I had never thought of losing that old scar, and it was a tough concept to accept, but at the same time, it felt OK to move on. I don't feel like Brady has taken the place of Elliot, because in my heart, my love for them is very separate. Just like all mothers, I love all my children the same amount, and yet I love them very differently. I love Sydney for different reasons than why I love Elliot, and I love Elliot for different reasons than why I love Brady. They all hold their own special, yet absolutely complete part of my heart. To me, Brady has in no way replaced or over-shadowed Elliot, he has instead brought to us a renewed joy, a renewed sense of hope and of peace.
There's more to the story, though, because Elliot's birth was a little difficult. There was no amniotic fluid in my uterus, and Elliot had decided to position himself very high up in there, so therefore my doctor had to cut my uterus not only horizontally, as he did the outside skin, but also vertically in order to get him out. After Brady was born, I asked Dr. Daum whether or not he had to cut my uterus in a "T" again, and it turns out that he didn't. So there remains a vertical scar that still belongs solely to Elliot. Even though my outside scar no longer belongs to him, his place remains deep inside of me. His mark on this earth is hidden deep within his mother, where it will never be removed, where it will never go away. He is not, and will not ever be forgotten. He has not been, nor will he ever be replaced in our hearts by Brady, or by any of our future children -(Yes, I'm already thinking about future children!) And even though there is now a missing piece of me that once belonged to him, he will be with me always. Always...
...and you suddenly remember that the one thing you neglected to do today was throw that box of packing peanuts away... You know those days??!!
