Both of my kiddos have chest scars from their open heart surgeries. They also have several random scars around their rib cages where pleural tubes were placed to remove liquid around the lungs and wires were placed in case they needed to restart the heart. Patrick had a scar on his stomach from his G-tube.

Phil and I have scars on our psyches and hearts. Mira, too. You can’t go through things like this and not be scarred emotionally. And these scars are harder to heal because they don’t get exposed to light and air as often. They get tucked away; shoved down because they can’t be dealt with in the moment. I always intended to bring them back out when there was time. But there was never time.

Scars are tricky things. Visible or not, they mark us permanently. People call us survivors, but that doesn’t seem right. That sounds past-tense when, in fact, it’s ongoing. I am a surviving heart parent. And I do it one day at a time.