Scars

“Don’t worry, it shouldn’t cause a scar.”

A few weeks ago, I got a call from daycare only an hour after my youngest was dropped off, stating that he would need to be picked up and probably need stitches.  My youngest is definitely the one that will give me the most heart attacks.  He loves to spin.  And he will often just stand and spin in circles for hours.  He doesn’t care where he is.  So he decided it would be a good idea to spin himself into a bookshelf.  We knew stitches would be inevitable with this one.  He even thought it would be a good idea to spin in the room while we were waiting for the doctor.  However, the cut was not deep enough for stitches and it was able to be glued.  

But what stuck with me the most was what the doctor said.  He made sure to let me know that the cut, being so close to his eye, would heal and not leave a scar.  Or if it did, it would fade with time.  I could care less about a scar.  I was more concerned about how I was going to keep him calm while he was wrapped up like a taco to prevent him from moving while the cut was glued.  

But this seems to be the norm.  “Don’t worry it won’t leave a scar.”  or “Don’t worry, it’ll fade with time.”  Why are we so concerned with visible scars? 

The same thing happened when Hayden fell and had to get stitches on his forehead.  I was more concerned about stopping the bleeding than about if he would have a lasting scar.  And he was more concerned about getting stitches than about a scar.  He did NOT like getting stitches at all.   

I feel that every scar has a story.  The scar on my knee happened in fourth grade.  I was spinning (I guess I know where my youngest gets it from) on the playground, holding onto my lunchbox.  It felt like I would sprin faster if I swung my lunch box as I spun.  I ended up falling right onto gravel and sliced open my knee.  It wasn’t deep enough for stitches but I had to clean gravel out of it and wear a bandaid for quite some time.  The scar on my shoulder was from a fight my sister and I got in on a road trip.  I did something to annoy her and she reached over and scratched me.  I have never had stitches, but I have scars.  And they never bothered me. They’re a story to share.  The memory of a moment that happened so long ago.  Something to remember from my childhood. 

The scars we can’t see are what concern me most.  The scars we keep hidden from the world.  The scars that affect us when we are in an uncomfortable situation.  The scars that are triggered by a noise or a smell.  The scars we don’t always want to share with people.  These are the scars that we should be worried about.  Not the scars that are visible to others.  Granted, I’m sure there are plenty of visible scars that people don’t want to talk about.  But from my experience, most people are willing to talk about their visible scars, but not the ones they keep hidden from the world. 

We all have internal scars.  I tend to hold onto things and keep them inside.  I don’t always share what is bothering me and will often think about a situation years after it has happened. These scars definitely affect me and are not visible to others.  It’s not a story that I often readily share, like I do with my visible scars.  

I think daily about the scars I could have caused Hayden if I had tried pushing him towards pants instead of the frilly dresses he so enjoys.  What would have happened if I had told him he couldn’t have a Frozen birthday party?  What scars would he have held onto that no one would have known about? 

Scars can shape who we are.  They give us a story to tell.  Something to remember.  But oftentimes, they can be hurtful.  At least the scars we don’t want people to see can be.  

There are people out there who don’t agree with how we are raising our son.  There are people who criticize what we are doing.  Strangers who judge us on a daily basis.  Strangers who say hurtful things.  Even people we thought of as friends have disagreed with our choices. There are friendships that have been lost because of this.  There are tears that have been shed.  Scars that I will keep inside.  Scars that I hope to hide from Hayden.  Because I know we have made the right choice.  He is happy being who he is.  And he doesn’t need to hear the hurt that other grownups have said.  That is a scar I am happy to hold onto for him.  

But, what about when people say mean things to him about what he likes to wear or do?  I worry that it will happen.  And deep down I know it probably will happen.  Will that cause scars that no one can see?  Or will that make him stronger and want to prove to the world that boys can do anything and be anything?