"I love my C-section scar. In fact, I'm probably in the minority because I refused to birth my baby without a C-section. He was our third baby and a miracle in every way.
At fifteen weeks, a scan showed that my baby appeared to have something on his kidneys. We had a Level two ultrasound and found out our baby had a birth defect called posterior urethral valves. . . . we went through an amnio and three vesicocenteses only to be told that even though our son's kidneys looked beautiful, the tests on them said otherwise and he wasn't worth the surgery. How anyone can determine whether my son's life is worth saving but me and God, I will always wonder.
We were advised to terminate, and told any good parent in that situation would do so. The thought made me sick. I had two children already, and he was just as much my child as they were. After many tears and prayers, we decided to transfer our care and begin to accept the idea that our baby would die after birth. How do you accept the fact that a growing baby inside will just die after he is born?
I went about two days deciding I didn't want to talk about my baby and just wanted to pretend he didn't exist. But I couldn't do it. I loved him. I wanted him. If wanting him and loving him meant that I would only have him to mother for nine months, then I would be the best mother I could be. I talked to him, sang to him, and created memories with him, including the sad ones like picking out a funeral space at thirty weeks pregnant.
Then, at thirty-four weeks, his time came. I went into labor. We made it to the hospital with just enough time to get me prepped for a C-section. Why not a vaginal delivery? I felt like my only hope to see him alive was to get him out quickly. He may not survive through the birth canal. My one wish was to gaze into his eyes. For his last breath to be me holding him, knowing only love. When he was born . . . he was kept on life support while we spent time with him, had pictures taken, and called our family and friends up to meet our sweet boy.
After three and a half hours, we made the heart-wrenching decision to remove him from life support, a decision that took years to accept and that occasionally still pops into my head. Matthew — our 'Gift from God' — died silently in my arms. . . . I still have my scar, a beautiful piece of him with me, always."
