Before surgery I was afraid and saddened by the thought of Whitney’s scar. I thought of what it represented, particularly of the trauma that her little body went through. It made me sick. I mourned the loss of her perfect soft skin on her chest being blemished with a gruesome mark.
The other day I thought again about her scar. Yes, it’s quite large, and the memory of the surgery is still fresh in our minds. The fear and stress and pain is tucked beneath those stitches and surgical glue. Yet I’ve realized that the scar also represents healing, her wholeness, and the grace of a defect corrected by an amazing team of physicians moving to God’s choreography and hundreds of loving prayers. When I look at Whitney’s scar, I’m grateful. Grateful for her health, for her strength, and for my own growth having endured the trial of such a stressful experience. I’ve been told her scar will fade along with the salience of our memories.
What I feared before the surgery was the pain, the wound itself, which is a moment in time that has passed (and was thankfully masked in much anesthesia on her part). The scar is a marker of the chapter of pain passing the baton to wholeness and strength. It’s not as I expected after all, it is somehow beautiful to me because of what it represents.
And a little bird told me her Grandpa ordered her a doll that has a heart surgery scar from www.dollsfordowns.com. How cool is that!?