Part 2
The surgery took nine hours.
When I woke up, the left side of my face was covered in bandages.
My head was pounding. Everything looked flat and strange with only one eye.
Mike was there. Of course he was.
He held my hand and said, “They got it all, Kris. You’re staying with us.”
I cried. And it hurt to cry.
Four days later, my mom brought Bennett to the hospital.
I almost told her to wait. To come back when I looked more like me.
But I missed him too much.
She carried him into the room.
He looked at me.
And for a long moment, he didn’t smile.
My heart stopped.
He stared at the bandages. He stared at my face.
His little lip started to shake.
Then I did the only thing I knew how to do.
I sang to him. The same silly song I sing every morning.
He froze.
He tilted his head.
And then he smiled. That big, gummy smile.
He leaned out of my mom’s arms, reached for me with both hands, and patted my cheeks like he always does.
He knew me.
Not my eyes. My voice. My smell. My love.
Mike had to walk out to the hallway. My mom cried so hard she had to sit down.
The months after were hard.
Radiation. Headaches. Learning to pour coffee without missing the cup.
Then, an eye patch. Later, a prosthetic eye that almost looks like my old one.
Some days, I still miss my face.
But two weeks ago, Bennett crawled across the living room floor, grabbed my eye patch, and said his very first word.
“Mama.”
To everyone who prayed for me that night… thank you.
My baby still knows me.
If you believe a mother’s love is more than a face, please send Kristy a ❤️
