In March, 1991, when I was two years old, my father was in a near fatal motorcycle accident. By sheer luck, an expensive helmet, a guardian angel and some pretty amazing medical care, he survived with just scars to show for it.
During his time in ICU, a drain was inserted in his side, just underneath his right armpit. Shortly afterwards, I developed a birth mark of an identical shape and size, in the identical position to Dad’s scars.
We’ve used this mark to show people before, how we’re linked. Connection within family is strong and sometimes, it’s stronger than others. I also have Dad’s identical birth marks on my stomach – my brother has the mirror image marks, which are identical to our grandfather.
When I was pregnant with Amy, every time I complained to my father about how sick I was, he was sick too. It was a rough pregnancy and I was glad to finally give birth and stop throwing up. I had joked during it that Dad had my morning sickness, but we didn’t think much of it.
Pregnant with Isaac, two years later, Dad was sick again.
I am now gestating what will hopefully be our third baby and yes, you guessed it, my father appears to be sick alongside me.
I can’t say that I’m surprised, really.
You can see the mark, just underneath my hand, holding my jumper up.
Side note: I was going to crop out all of the bits that are less than flattering on this photo, but you know, I didn’t. I am six weeks pregnant now, after a miscarriage at six weeks and my uterus appears to be overachieving, size wise.
