Eliza’s Special Thing

One of my identical twins has a birthmark on her lip called a hemangioma. It’s basically a cluster of red blood cells that shows up shortly after birth, grows for a while, and usually fades over time. She might have it until she’s eight or ten, but in theory, it will eventually go away, although they don’t always. 

(Phoebe has one too, but it’s on her neck and deeper under the skin, so not obvious.)

Eliza’s birthmark has been super helpful in telling the girls apart, so I’ve been grateful. But I’ve wondered how she will feel about it when she gets older. For the first time, the other day, she mentioned it.

“I have a birthmark on my lip,” she started telling everyone, apropos of nothing.

It’s funny how this came about. She was climbing on the toilet during bath time, totally ignoring my commands to get down while I had my hands full with her sister, and she fell and hit her mouth on the edge of the seat. This hurt; she cried. Somehow, over the next few days, this experience falling off the toilet wove together with the birthmark she’s always had. “I fell off toilet and have a birthmark,” she informed me.

The developing toddler brain is a fascinating thing. “Yes you do have a birthmark,” I said, “but it’s not from falling off the toilet. You were born with it.” This isn’t actually true, but I have to simplify. “It makes you special and unique.”

This is enough for now, but as she gets older and goes to school and interacts with other kids, I worry about how this message will pan out. I know there will be times that kids make tactless and maybe even cruel comments. A few adults have already said things to me like “Can she get surgery for that?” I feel like I need to step up my game and come up with a really tight birthmark story, something mythical and empowering.

Let me be clear: this birthmark is not a big deal. I ceased to notice it long ago. It’s small, and looks smaller and smaller as her face gets bigger. Not for one second have I considered getting it removed, and that’s something I hope won’t ever be a thing. I don’t want my kids to be teased and feel self-conscious. I also don’t want them to think that their worth depends on the way they look. It’s a tough balance.

I don’t have a birthmark on my face, but I did have plenty of physical attributes I was insecure about growing up.

Nerdy epitomized

I was extremely skinny and flat-chested, the last one of my friends to hit puberty by a long shot.

I have a “fivehead,” as they say, and have worn bangs since a child to take the focus off that giant reflective spot so UFOs don’t try to land on it.

I also have a lazy eye. When I was a kid, the way they solved for that was to make you wear a patch over the non-lazy eye in order to force the lazy one to buck up. We’re not talking some cool fancy pirate patch; we’re talking a flesh-colored band-aid the exact size to adhere over a child’s eye. I was to wear it all the time — including to school.

I will never forget the first day I wore that patch to school, in third grade. I ended up hiding under a table, teased by the one boy I really cared about. I never wore it to school again, but left the house with it in the morning, and ripped it off before I got on the school bus. I still have a lazy eye. (Thor O’Brien — are you still out there? I got prettier!)

With Grampa, circa 1977ish

Growing older clears up a lot of these neuroses. I had a check-up at the doctor recently, and he looked into my eyes with a light from about two inches away. “I have a lazy eye,” I told him, “So if you’re looking for my eyes to behave correctly, they’re not going to.” He wasn’t phased; neither was I.

I still have small breasts, too. Being pregnant was their one-and-only heyday. But I’m 46  and nursed two kids and I barely need a bra, so. (Teenage girls with small breasts everywhere — it pays off one day!)

I still wear bangs, and this is a look that’s gone in an out of fashion, but at this point, I’m looking forward to rocking the gray hair with the standard art-student haircut I’ve had most of my life.

As for my kids, I try not to have too many expectations for how things are going to go. Sure, I’d love for her to own her birthmark and let her trademark cold, icy stare descend upon any kid that dares make fun of her. But if she gets older and says “Mama, I want this birthmark gone,” I will consider zapping it off.

In the meantime, I’m appreciating the non-identical attributes of my identical twins.