Scarred

Just after Desmond was born they whisked him to a little ICU on the labor and delivery floor. My Dr. had prepared me (verbally anyhow) for this moment telling me that they would say, "here's your baby!" and show me his face as they whisked him out the door. He would be intubated immediately, x-rayed to confirm diagnosis and the prodding would begin. I thought about that moment a lot leading up to delivery and talked about it a lot with girlfriends.

Tonight, after both children had fallen asleep, I washed the day's milk spillage off my body and returned downstairs to a toy strewn floor. As I cleared the dishes, I happened to glance over to the computer as a photo of Desmond being intubated flashed across the screen.

My wonderful and kind OBGYN, Dr. Simpson, asked for a camera and ran to snap a photo of the boy for Shane and I to see. The mood in the delivery room just moments before delivery was lighthearted, pushing was easy and fast and the other OBGYN in the room kept talking to me about her child's music teacher who I reminded her of. And so that great release when Dezi entered the world was anticlimactic in a way and as they shuffled him out of the room it suddenly became so somber. There were many answers that had been promised us upon delivery regarding the severity of the hernia, etc. I cried and cried. Dr. Simpson returned to the room with a photo of our sweet boy and I cried harder. Here is the first photo I ever saw.



It upset me more.

Why am I writing about this now? I'm not sure. Partly because I still feel unsteady at times and it's important to remember how this journey began and how far we've come. Partly because I was afraid to post that first picture when it was taken. I thought it was scary as hell and that it would scare friends. It seems like such a long time ago now and I'm reminding myself that it's good to face those things that are scary and this is an important part of the story that I never documented.

Earlier tonight I took a photo of Dezi's scars. Shane and I were joking in the hospital one time about how one day in the future Dezi could show off his scars to someone, a college girlfriend, perhaps, and tell her his story. She could comment on how brave he was. I'm so happy to show you that his scars are disappearing. They look like bug bites and they will probably not be visible to any college girlfriend. Take a look:



Bad ass.