The truth is, while our scars have faded, I can't un-see the things I've seen. I've seen way too much in my short stint as a mama and I wish I could just wipe it all from my memory. I can't. I will always have moments when I am taken back to that hospital room in the cardiac unit. Visiting the echo-cardiogram lab will always leave a bad taste in my mouth. It's like an old tennis injury, acting up when the weather is cold or you're particularly stressed. Elliott's scar will fade, but it will never, ever leave him. The scarring left behind on my own heart feels like it's slower to heal, and my nonchalant tone isn't a total coverup because I still have to talk about Elliott's surgery to anyone who will listen.
Thank goodness for time. Time heals wounds. While we will be looking at another open heart surgery some day in the future, in the present we spend time healing. Elliott is going about his days as a silly toddler having no recollection (thankfully) of his surgeries. His scar is hardly recognizable, and maybe someday we'll sit with him on the couch with some ice cream and tell him the story of how it got there.