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Proof of life.
I was in the shower today and was looking down at my body as the soap suds hit the shower floor. I could recollect when each stretch mark showed up on my belly while I was pregnant with Maya, all that time ago.
With each stretch mark that showed up, it meant that she was growing inside of me and was healthy. I remember being amazed at how my body was constantly changing.
These stretch marks and this C-section scar are the only physical thing I have that permanently connect me to her.
Proof of life.
When Maya first passed—and still today—I would be woken up (when I could sleep) to my C-section scar itching like crazy. I couldn’t find any relief from it, and still cannot sometimes. I have had that scar for 14 years and have never experienced anything like that as a result of having it.
Proof of life.
My physical body has experienced so much trauma as a result of her passing. This continues, every day. There is no relief from her loss at this point. But I acknowledge that this pain means we are connected, even in this way—her being where she is and me being where I am.
We are connected physically and spiritually. We are connected.
Proof of life.
Waking up, scratching my belly, screaming, and crying because the itch reminds me she was inside of me once. I carried her. And then there is the inevitable opening of my eyes to face yet another day without my daughter. And the reality of this makes me never want to open my eyes again.
Proof of life.
This girl is mine. My body was her guardian. My C-section scar and these stretch marks are the proof that she was here, that she lived, that she was real.
She was the realest, and I will wear these scars prouder than I ever have before.
They are my proof of life.
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