Scar

Had our follow up appointment at the hospital this morning to review Nathan’s scar from the accident.

Unfortunately the doctors could not say anything conclusive. Apparently the area is not healing perfectly as planned. Nathan is just too active a boy to keep down – the day after the surgery he tripped again and popped the stitches on the top layer of the wound. I was absolutely mortified and went back into my ‘wreck mode’ when that happened.

After this morning’s appointment, I confess I came home, sat down and cried. I cried over the fact that the scar is still there and will continue to be there for who knows how long. The doctor could only tell me that they will continue to review it and see how it goes.

To others, it may seem a small imperceptible thing. But it’s undeniably there. Friends and family try to be more tactful. But friendly or curious strangers often ask me “what happened to his lip?”. When I relate the incident, they will quickly try to reassure me with a “oh, it doesn’t look THAT bad”. Hollow sounding words despite their well meant intentions.

People’s response to my reaction to this whole thing: “He’s a boy, it’s bound to happen eventually!” or “He’s only your first, wait till you have two or three!” or “It’s because you’re a mother” or “You’re just a more emotional person, Serene, don’t take it so hard”

How I wish I can control how I feel. It seems as long as the scar remains, I too will be carrying them in my heart. I’ve sought out various quotes and sayings to help me come to terms with it. Scars are noble, scars have meaning, scars have character, scars tell stories. The fact is, as long as it’s there, I will remember. And I wish not to. I wish the whole had never happened. I wish my son had never had to come out of this bearing this mark. I wish to blot out the whole episode and the scar away forever.

People say there will inevitably be more of such scrapes and injuries to come, maybe worse ones than this, particularly with boys. I should just learn to accept it. No, I never want anything like this to happen again. The pain and regret is terrible. Anything worse than this would be just too paralysing.

Anyway let’s take a break from all that. I’d like to say a word on something else… it’s about things like tattoos and body piercings. I myself am not a personal fan of them, but to me seeing them on other people it not a big deal. I’ve come to view them as part of the current wave of popular culture.

However, I realise now why it’s so heartbreaking for some parents when they see their children doings stuff like that to their body. But hey, what’s the big deal? If only they could look at themselves literally through the eyes of their mum or dad.

In my eyes, when I look at my son, I see perfection. The perfection of his bright shiny eyes, his teeny tiny nose, his two little ears, his yummy little mouth, his ten fingers and ten toes. I see satin smooth perfection of soft skin on chubby cheeks, arms, legs and his precious little body. Every part of him is wonderful. Beautiful. Perfect.

The photo that garnered the comment from my friend, Irene: “He looks so perfect, Serene”

I’m not advocating that tattoos and body piercings are wrong. In fact I myself have admired some pretty cool-looking ones on others. I do not have any authority or grounds to declare whether it is wrong or right. I am only expressing my emotions as a mother. And I now know and feel to my core why it can twist a parent’s heart up inside to see such beauty and perfection seemingly marred, tarnished, defaced or distorted.

I do not know yet how I will come to terms with this potential scar on my son. It has revealed a deeper side of the mother’s heart in me. I carry my child’s scar in my heart.