My perfectly imperfect body

When I was 4 years old my left arm went through the glass part of the screen door at my house. It was locked, and like most little kids, I was excited to see my dad come home from work and went running. But the screen was locked and instead of opening the door, my arm went through it. I was stitched up and OK, but have my scars on my left arm to tell the tale.

My perfectly imperfect body

When I was 6 years old, I got diagnosed with a very rare (at the time) disease called Kawasaki. At the time of hospitalization I couldn’t walk, couldn’t eat or drink and my hands, feet and lips were peeling. If you look close enough on the tops of each hand, you will see the scars from where the IV’s were put, and each eventually got infected and had to be moved.

My perfectly imperfect body

As a high school graduation gift to myself, at 18 years old, I got my belly button pierced. I went with my bestie and she did hers too. Kind of like a rite-of-passage I guess. It stayed put for 12 years. I loved it. The jewel on mine was rainbow and oh, so pretty. When I found out I was pregnant with Princess Peach, I kept it in hoping that my growing belly wouldn’t push it out. But at 4 months along, I decided to take it out. Now above my belly button, sits a hole.

My perfectly imperfect body

And then my water broke on August 17, 2011. I expected I would have an easy vaginal delivery. But, that’s not how the story would be written. After trying to push for 3 hours and trying to turn my little miss, I would be cut open, almost from hip to hip to safely deliver Princess Peach via c-section. The scar I would get right above my bikini line was our story to tell about how Princess Peach entered the world.

My perfectly imperfect body

When it came to making a choice the second time around, I chose to have a repeat c-section. That decision was the best decision I could have made. And as the song Soul Sister by Train played in the OR, I watched Little Dude emerge into this world through the same opening his sister a mere 23 months earlier. Again, the scars healed but a little “pouch” stayed on top. A memory of where my kids lived inside of me.

 

My perfectly imperfect body

Cancer. Oh, cancer. My cancer treatments have done a doozy on my body. My stomach looks like a pin-cushion and my arms show signs of where the chemo burned my arm. I gained a lot of weight during my treatments too. And then that fateful summers day, August 24, 2015, when I had a double mastectomy. The scars that run across my chest tell the story for themselves. That something inside me, tried to kill me. But, luckily I was stronger than breast cancer. My chest is all mangled, and not pretty at all. And without my breasts, I notice my stomach more than ever and shirts don’t fit. As I’ve learned, all tops, even cotton  t-shirts are made to have breasts in them.

My perfectly imperfect body

Each of my scars tell a story- my story. Each experience is a part of me and makes me who I am today. They made not be pretty but they are a reminder of what I’ve been through in my life. The good and the bad. My body has been through a lot in almost 35 years. More than what some people have to endure in their entire lifetime. Just how we all have one chance at life, we all have one body and this one is imperfectly mine.