How I Learned to Love my Scars

“Argh, these darn stretch marks itch so bad I’m going to scratch right through my belly!” I hollered across the bed to my husband. He tried to reassure me, “I really don’t think that’s a possibility.”

So I came up with a grand plan…

I found the container of Bag Balm I had in my cupboard of animal medicine. It’s kind of like Vaseline for udders on cows that are getting dry and chapped while nursing calves.

I hustled into the kitchen and dug out a roll of saran wrap and hurriedly put my plan into action. Quickly, I smeared this wonderful cow product all over my 7 month pregnant belly. A deep sigh slipped out of me as the itching eased a little.


Now, if I would have just stopped there, I think the outcome would have been different. But, I’ve never been one to say whoa in a horse race! I decided to hold as much moisture in as possible by wrapping my whole midsection in saran wrap before crawling back into bed.


Oh, the horror the next morning!


I ripped the saran wrap off my belly as fast as possible as it burned with a thousand hot needles. Every inch of my not so little baby bump was covered in a heat rash. Sweet Jesus come now!


I still have all those wonderful tiger stripes to this day. The scars left from a belly that literally grew overnight.


I wish I could tell you that I always loved these scars left behind but there were many days I struggled with them. But…they are a constant reminder of God’s goodness and mercy towards me.


You see, I was told early on in my marriage by a specialist the chance of me ever having a child of my own was slim to none. Unfortunately my insides were so full of scar tissue from prior abuse that it would take a lot of medical help and even then there was no guarantee.


So what do you do with that information as a young wife? I cried. I hollered at God. When would it be enough? Was life just going to be one big heartache after another?


God is faithful however and sent strong women of faith to stand in the gap for me when I couldn’t face it alone. They laid hands on me and prayed over me.


I flopped on my bed that night and cried tears of release. I died to my plans right there. I’ll never forget crying out to God, “I give up, whatever your plans are for me I will trust you. If it’s your will that I have a child Lord I trust You alone to do it. Either way, I will praise you.”


Does that mean it was easy every morning to wake up and trust Him? Maybe for others it is but it hasn’t ever come naturally to me. Every time my own will tried to creep in and take over I had to to call out to Jesus to help me bring it back in line with Him.


Now every time I look at the scars left on my stomach I’m reminded of God’s miracles in my life.


His mercy and grace are beyond compare!

My two wonderful sons from their younger days

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~Laura~

18 thoughts on “How I Learned to Love my Scars”

  1. Scarred people are beautiful people. I've always believed that to be true.

    Thank you for your honesty. Through this, you have inspired your readers. Keep shining!

  2. Awe, aren't they just adorable. Oh, Laura, it feels like a minute ago that mine were that little. They grow up so very fast. Praise the Lord that He opened your womb. I can't think of a better reason for scars. ((sweet blessings))

  3. I love your story, and your writing takes on a whole new element of authenticity for me, because now I KNOW you write exactly how you talk. Beautiful story, and funny too….bless your young heart. I'm sure your boys are grateful for your scars, I always remind my girls that those darn stretch marks are all their fault.

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