Scar

Am I 

Less of a woman? 

I look down at my body and see

The lumpy flabby small stretch of flesh that

Just a few days ago was taught and large

Like a beachball people said

My navel back in place

And no trace left of the

Small bump they said would slowly deflate

Just this fold of flab that was inflated so

And beneath that

A scar

Four inches long

Healed in the fastest time that defies logic

A scar

That sits between my navel and crotch

That few people will see

But will define me forever

A scar

That was cut so you could breathe your first breath

So that you could come gasping into the world

Small mouth gulping 

Crying as I was told 

That you were 'he' and not 'she'

A scar. 

Unplanned is the preferred term

Instead of emergency

In half an hour my labour changed from pain to bliss

As my agonising pains became paralysis

As you took your first cry and breath

As your father held you, tears streaming down his face 

Relief after the potential loss of you and me

This is my reality now

A scar 

That defines me 

That challenges me

To think what the terms 'giving birth,' 'delivering,' and 'labour' mean

Even the term 'woman' 

Am I less of one now? 

Are these tears ones of joy or

Ones of sorrow? 

But I look at your face

Your uncompromising, beautiful face

That mop of fuzzy fair hair

And deepest darkest blue eyes like an ocean

This is my reality

You are my reality

And my world

And though our meeting was unplanned

Though you stubbornly remained in that warm, dark space of the womb 

I know for certain

You are worth a thousand scars