Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Peyton has a battle scar. It's tiny. So small that I often forget it's even there. I notice it most when I'm giving him a bath, a small dot on his chest that's a little too pink and and feels funny. It is so small that I had a hard time making it show up in this picture. You might think it's just a speck of dust on your screen, but it's there. Trust me.
All of this will be a story we tell Peyton.
I hope that scar reminds him how hard his little body had to fight to survive. I hope that he battles through every obstacle he is yet to face. He is so strong. He is a fighter. He fought hard to live. The rest should be easy. When nothing is going right, I want him to look at that scar and remember that the worst moment of his life is behind him. I want that to be true.
My battle scar isn't so easy to see. This little boy broke my heart into tiny little pieces. I felt like I failed him. I still feel like I failed him. My job was to bring him into this world healthy and whole and I couldn't do that. He is almost three months old and I still put my hand on his chest to be sure he's breathing. I cry when he cries. I hold him at night longer than I need to and whisper I'm sorry into his ear.
I'm smart enough to logically understand that in a few years this will all be behind us. Peyton will be big and strong and crazy like his big brother. He'll say silly things. He'll be a daredevil. With time, my heart will heal.
And all that remains will be his tiny little scar.
Posted by Mrs B at 7:22 PM