War Wounds

No one gets a scar from just standing there doing absolutely nothing! Behind every good scar there is a good story! Wounds heal and the pain goes away, but the scars are what remain! Whenever we look in the mirror, our flawed bodies are a simple reminder that we did something, someday that put ourselves in danger, somehow. They may be marks of bravery, of defeat and possibly even stupidity, but they belong to us and we should wear our scars proud! Here are a few of my stories!

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**2 for the price of 1!**

I see my stretch mark in my side and think of my sweet baby boy and how hard it was to carry him and the pain, sickness and suffering it took to get him here. I think of how uncomfortable I was and how I thought my skin was going to rip open because it just couldn't possibly stretch anymore to accommodate the living being inside. I think about how my back ached, the acid reflux and varicose veins. I think about his face the first time he was put into my arms and how all those thoughts went away. I love it! 

Then I see the wound of all wounds. I was biking the Wasatch Crest trail and had rode 17 miles of various terrain (much of it uphill) and how exhausted I was. I remember the last few miles were downhill and being glad for that. I remember wanting to hurry to the bottom of the canyon to get more water. I remember hitting an exposed tree root in my path at 25 miles per hour. I don't remember flying 15 feet through the air and landing on my hip bone then sliding another 15 feet. I do remember not being able to breath for quite some time and then when I was finally able, I cried my eyes out. I also remember thinking "Dammit. this is going to leave a scar."

I was only 6 years old. We were living in a small red house in Billings, Montana. I loved to roller skate! I watched the older girls do it and all the fancy tricks they knew. Backwards, spins and even a criss-cross-of-the-legs motion! My mom would take us to the local skating rink on the weekends so we could test our skills and the hold on our feathered hair. This was no weekend. They had just paved the street in front of our house using the "tar and gravel" method. There remained little pebbles everywhere, covering our sidewalks. It was dark and I was unaware. Rock gets stuck under the wheel and a little girl hits the ground. My mom tries to clean out my knee with tweezers and hydrogen peroxide gently telling me to calm down. My sister is standing over me telling me that with a wound like that I will never be able to be Miss America. I am devastated!

The crease in my eye is deeper than it should be. It was my senior year in high school. I only had 2 required classes which resulted in 4 elective classes.

 elective classes = easy breezy 

I was taking "Single Survival" which taught us how to accurately perform a new sport/activity each week. BB gun shooting was a blast! We were fortunate enough to have a lake by the high school in which we had rowing lessons. I thoroughly enjoyed flag football and badminton but NEVER in my wildest dreams did I think Ping Pong would be the reason for bloodshed. We were split up into partners. My partner served the ball to me and I missed resulting in the ball rolling through the gymnasium. "I'll get it!" I said, as I started running after it. I saw Mike Lutey getting into his game and just as I ran by he went for a major backswing. His paddle sliced my eyelid open and the blow to my head was so strong it knocked me to the ground and my world went black. I thought I was blind. With my one good eye I could see a pool of blood surrounding my head. My mom rushes to the school and it was the first time I openly swore in front of her. 3 stitches and a black eye for 2 weeks. Worst part is, I had a crush on Mike.

(doesn't show well in picture - it's the white line running vertical down the top portion of my thumb)

 I was working at a floral shop downtown. We had a wedding the next morning where the brides family spent over $100,000.00 on flowers alone. For some reason, the owners (idiots!) and all the other employees left work at the regular time even though there was still so much work to be done. My coworker Jamie and I were pretty much forced to take action even though it wasn't in the job description. We knew it was going to be a late night. It was 2 people doing work that required 10. I kept looking at the clock and racing it. $500 worth of rose petals had to be picked off the stems so that we could have them strewn over the sidewalks of Stein Eriksen and 25 centerpieces needed to be made. I took a bundle of the roses and placed them under the chopping blade to be trimmed for arrangements. In such a hurry, I brought the blade down too quickly and it cut through my thumb. It was 9:00 p.m. I was rushed to the ER, given 3 stitches and back at the shop an hour later. The owners were notified of the mishap and met us there. They asked me if I was o.k. and then got in their car while having the audacity to tell us to make sure we cleaned out all the buckets and put fresh water in them for the morning. Then they left because they said they were tired. Jamie and I called our husbands to come help since we were nowhere near done. It was 12:30 a.m. when we finally locked up. My thumb was numb do to a severed nerve and was throbbing. It had it's own heartbeat! The next day I was back at work sprinkling thousands of yellow rose petals over the sidewalks of Stein Eriksen. It was a windy day and I happily watched $500 blow off the sidewalks in a frenzy to a far distance by the woods.