Today Noah noticed one of his scars and asked about it.
Most of Noah's scars don't bother me. The little white spots on his hands, feet, ankles and arms are a reminder of how hard he fought and how much he made it through. But then there's the red scar on his one cheek not really noticeable to anyone but me from when he coded the first time and in their rush to extubate they ripped all the skin off his cheek. I don't like that one. The scar he asked about today is large and I remember the look of pain on his face when I came in for a visit to find that his IV had given out and medication was burning a hole in his arm without the nurse noticing. I still feel sick to my stomach when I think about it.
Noah will hopefully ignore his scars the way I ignore my birth marks. I forget they're there until someone asks about them. Maybe as a little boy he'll be proud to have more scars than all his friends? Who knows. Thankfully he doesn't have to carry the memories of how he got them. He doesn't remember the painful experiences, even if he's still daily affected by them.