My postpartum body felt foreign, my C-section scar a particularly vivid reminder of a birth that didn’t go according to plan.
After my C-section, with grayish purple lines dancing around my nipples and lower abdomen, and a scar cutting through my pubic region, I’m not so seamless, the physical changes a reminder of what my body has been through.
In our hustle, I forgot all about my postpartum body—the squishiness of my belly, the stretch marks riding on my stomach, the angry scar—all the ways it had changed and all the ways I’d felt like it had failed me during labor.
There are so many messages flying around about how the “perfect” pregnancy should look, it was hard to overcome the idea that I wasn’t equipped for what’s often lauded as the most feminine task in the world. “You handled it so well,” my husband gushed to anyone we shared the birth story with.
At my three-week postpartum appointment, I marveled at my son’s teeny Lithuanian nose while simultaneously stewing about how a doctor might reduce the vividness of my C-section scar. “What’s going to make this fade into oblivion? ” I wanted to know.
It wasn’t just the scar I wanted to bury; it was the fact that I couldn’t give birth vaginally as I’d planned.
After all, it brought our baby safely into this world, vaginal birth or not. “Pin me down,” I commanded, hardly believing how confident I felt.
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