Deeper Than the Scars

Introduction

It’s the most joyful moment of a woman’s life. The moment she holds her child in her arms for the very first time. They prefer not to mention it can quickly become one of the most heart-wrenching too. But I’m going to mention it, because that’s what my mom went through. When she held her first-born son for the first time…I can’t imagine the thoughts and emotions that went through her. Between his nose and lip where bone and skin should have been, instead a canyon gaped wide open, all the way back through the entire roof of his mouth.

It was in 1979, before advanced ultrasound. It was a shock. Being a new parent of a healthy baby is hard enough. It’s a crash course on feeding, changing, burping, and pacifying the baby long enough to nab a few spare minutes of sleep. On top of that, my parents received a crash course from doctors on a bilateral cleft lip and palate. Quickly they learned some of those things would be harder for their son Keith.

The cleft palate would make nursing nearly impossible. Without lip and palate closure, sucking through a bottle was extremely difficult. To make feeding easier, my dad sliced the nipple on the bottle to allow the milk come out with ease. Some of the milk would go into his nasal cavity through the opening in the roof of his mouth. It would be a battle to keep him fed. They would need to be on guard for ear infections. The doctors must have noticed the looks of despair on my parents’ faces. There was hope though.

Every year, less than one percent of babies in the US are born this way.1 The treatment process, which stretches over several years with multiple surgeries, results in the child having a typical lifestyle without any permanent health concerns. Oh, the surgeries cannot erase all the effects. The nose is usually a little flatter. The lips a little jagged. But the scars between the two will always remain.

My parents were left to wonder what the cause was, if not immediately, then in the years to follow. While there are some risk factors, it’s impossible to know for sure. My parents went on to have two more children, a girl and then another boy. Both were born healthy. I can’t say they are normal, they are my older siblings after all, but they were given a clean bill of health.

Then I was born, six years after my oldest brother. Once again, that familiar feeling for my mom, the happiest moment of her life, mixed with the heart-wrenching feeling that something had gone so wrong. Bilateral cleft lip and palate….again. It was twice as unlikely for girls, but here they stood. I wonder how my parents must have felt in that moment. If it was more or less frightening knowing the path that was to come. Knowing how my oldest brother suffered through surgeries, teasing, bullies, and self-esteem issues. To know that it may even be worse for a girl, whose self-worth is often wrapped up in her appearance. I went through the same operations. Left with the similar physical scars as my brother.

Now at 33-years of age, with my last surgery completed over 10 years ago, at random times, some still ask, “How did you get those scars on your lip?” Each time someone asked; I felt the solid ground beneath me turning to quicksand. An internal discomfort overcame me. Unprepared to give an adequate response I mumbled, “I was born this way” and carried on the conversation as if the question had never been asked. Reflecting on these awkward moments, I began to ponder how I could better answer the question.

This is the story behind my scars. Yes, it is a story of physical reconstruction, but it went far deeper than the scars on my lip. This story goes deeper to reveal the wounds and the healing of my heart. This healing has not happened over night but has been an ongoing process over many years. Even today, God continues to work on my inner transformation, helping me see this life from His perspective rather than my own.

Although my scars had been a source of embarrassment and insecurity, I’m learning to see my scars as a beautiful thing. Scars are beautiful because they not only tell the story of what happened to us but they tell of what happened within us. They tell of what we’re in the process of overcoming and what we’ve already overcome.

The scars on my face represent my personal journey with God. They represent Him walking me through countless surgeries, speech therapy, multiple ear infections, hearing loss and extensive dental work. He led me. Not only over those hurdles, but also through the challenges of receiving hurtful comments about my appearance. These scars. They represent the building of my faith, reliance, and trust in Him. His kind hand leading me to find my identity and value in Him when I couldn’t find it in anything this world offered.

In my deepest doubts and insecurities, God was there.

Each time I see my scars I remember; through it all, He held me secure.