The Purple Caterpillar

"What is that, mommy?""It's a scar."

"Why do you have it?"

 

I was tongue-tie for a brief moment. I can't get into the whole cancer story. He's too young to understand. I can't tell him the doctor cut mommy open to get him out. That for sure will mess with his brain.

 

"Mommy had some problems before, so doctors had to fix them and make mommy better." I was pleased.

 

But the naturally inquisitive 3-year-old was not. "Doctor Logan did that?"

 

How cute! The only doctor he has ever known is our family physician, so naturally he thought she fixed his mommy.

 

"No. It was some other doctors."

 

Kai stared at it a while longer. I watched carefully the expression that came across his face. After being cut open and sewn back together 4 times by different doctors, it's not pretty. In fact, it's an ugly scar. I didn't want Kai to be grossed out or scared, especially when he was looking at it so purposefully. Just when I started feeling a bit awkward, he looked up and said cheerfully, "You have a purple caterpillar on your belly, mommy."

 

I never think much about the fact that I have a 12-centimeter vertical scar between my belly button and pubic hairline. I know it's ugly, but I never try to hide it. I don't care or worry about what others might think when they see it. Also, while some women who have had a C-section might be hung up about their husbands being turned off by the scar, the thought that Bill might react negatively toward my purple caterpillar never crossed my mind. He's just not that kind of a person. I had always seen my scar as a battle wound; something that I had learned to live with and to accept as part of who I am.


Now my 3-year-old son offered another perspective. A purple caterpillar. A symbol for transformation, metamorphosis, and a new life of wonder and beauty.

 

I like that.

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