Scars for My Boy

I have scars on my body. 

Permanent scars.

Now, when I look at myself, bare in the mirror, there is so much of me that once I had, some, even taken for granted, that I suddenly come to realize, I might never have anymore. 

So much of me has changed. Physically. I've gained so much of weight. Carrying Shandon added 16kg onto my being. 

My first impression of myself, is 'I've grown so much. I never knew I could grow so much.' For one moment, I felt ugly. Round. Unattractive. That once small waist that I used to adorn by wearing a belt on top of my usual black tops that were envy of many ladies, I don't have anymore. I wished I loved myself more. I wish I was grateful for the body I had. Probably should have took more photos of myself being more bare.

My breasts have changed too. My nipples, don't get me started. They are all bigger, to function to produce milk. 

I used to love to wear tight fitting clothes. 

Now, I've chucked all of them in a box to be put away. 

Spent some money to buy loose clothings, you know, to cover the fats I've gained.

So much difference. I feel older too. 

And then. I look at him. 

This little being, no bigger than my arm. 

And I'm amazed by what the human body can do. They say pregnancy changes you. Ohhhhhh were they right.. 

Physical changes were the most prominent. 

But, I found inner strength I never thought I had. 

My pregnancy journey has been.... Let's just say, not so smooth sailing. I got admitted at 27 weeks. My first admission. I overworked myself which led to a premature contraction. 

Then my second one was storied at my previous post. 

I entered the hospital on my 36th week and never came out of there until my little one was born.

It was not easy. It tested my very being. 

I cried. More than I ever did in my entire life. 

I feared. For the one thing that I haven't laid my eyes on yet, but had this unexplainable force of need to protect. 

I feared loss. 

I almost broke down. I teared. 

I had to become independent. Without my dear family. Only my husband. In-laws are not the same as your own family. Although I'm blessed to have the best MIl in the world. And my Sister in-law too, she was ever so caring and supportive throughout the most difficult of times. She could relate to me too, as she is a Mother of two very adorable children herself. 

I remember during the time when I was pregnant, when little Shandon was not putting as much weight as expected, she went to buy me the most expensive durians and asked me to eat aplenty as it is known that durians would add to baby's weight. Baby did grow 200 grams that week. 

I had to be strong. Not once. But twice. Or even more, I lost track. 

I was so fragile.  I suddenly realise that we humans, we are such frail beings. And living in this world now, where 'only the strongest survives', it implicates any form of diseases too, because potent diseases are very potent, and bacterias as well as viruses have evolved so much that when one gets sick from this disease, it would be a full blown, and possibly even worse than that of the same bacteria that would affect the same kind of weak human being, say 10 years ago.

But it is all said and done now, and I'm grateful that the worst is behind me. 

So those marks, those scars, every little piece of it on my body, are the reminder of my own battles. 

Mine, and no one else.

My scars show the determination, to bring a life into this world. 

I have scars on my body.

I am proud. 

Lotsa love.