The difference of a week

I am holding it together as much as I can. Surrounded by people, we are back at our friends’ home while Steve is on the road. It’s unbelievable to me that less than a week ago I sat on this couch, lay on this bed, holding on to my hope, holding on to my belly, to my baby’s life. Now I am empty though my body still looks full. I shower and don’t recognize myself. The body of a pregnant woman who is no longer pregnant.

I see something in the mirror and get closer. Two perfect bruises where they clamped my skin open to pull Benjamin out. I don’t remember that from my first Cesarean but they must have been there. I am afraid to lift my belly and look at my incision. I want to throw up.

It’s healing well. My body is amazing. I look away and slowly, achingly, put clothes back on.

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0 Responses to The difference of a week

  1. but here you are, looking at the perfect bruises you cannot see . . .

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