Thursday, February 11, 2010

Sam's Scars


Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop Prompt #3.) Tell us about that scar. (inspired by Katie from Rooftop Harmonies)
 
That scar. That scar you bear broke my heart. There you were, just two months old, still so perfect and untouched by this world. Soft baby skin, tiny baby hands, fuzzy baby hair...and then, the chicken pox.
 
Oh, my, what a case of the chicken pox! Your brothers had them too, but Sam, you had enough chicken pox for all three boys. You were covered from head to toe and everywhere in between. In your tiny ears, on your baby fingers, all over your little back and tummy. You took it all like a trooper, but the sight of you nearly made me cry.
 
And worst of all, I was the one who gave you the pox.
 
Yep, that's right. When you and your brothers were just six weeks old, I got the shingles. And before I realized it, I had passed it along to you and your brothers when we nursed. From start to finish the three of you had chicken pox for five weeks.
 
Five weeks of calamine lotion, fussiness, and fever.
 
Five weeks of mommy guilt.
 
Five weeks of praying over each of you.
 
At last the plague ended, but a few scars remained.
 
And they broke my heart.
 
My perfect little babies now bore their first marks of living in this world. And I had to face the reality that no matter how much I wanted to, I could never protect you from everything.
 
Now you are 16 months old, and already there are additional scars. But I am learning to embrace them, because I realize that the only way you can go through this world unscathed is if you never really live.
 
Living means there will be accidents, missteps, and sometimes, scars.
 
Let's just try to keep that to a minimum, OK? Your mama's heart can only take so much.


© Trippin' Mama 2010

5 comments:

suzannah @ so much shouting/laughter said...

chicken pox at two months is heartbreaking. as if a new baby (or three!) wasn't stressful enough!

Dan said...

It's amazing how the hurts of the world on our kids are so hard to accept. I suspect it doesn't matter how they get the scar, we all still feel guilty.

My great grandmother who was a homesteader hundreds of miles (in the covered wagon era) away from any doctors always said that scars were the marks of God's kisses - because if you had a scar it meant you survived so God was looking out for you. I always thought that was a pretty good way of looking at it.

Jeanette said...

What a beautiful post! Sad to see your babies suffer like that, but great life lesson. Love it!

The Crazy Coxes said...

You poor, poor thing!
Just what you needed at your house - shingles and then the chicken pox!
Well, your son will have a good story!

Christina Lee said...

WOW. how you survived that I dont know. My hubby had shingles and it was VERY PAINFUL for him! You poor thing!!