With a girl, I worried that the scar would play into her sense of beauty, her sense of self. What would happen when it came time for shidduchim?
Akiva had grown into an active, exuberant toddler. It was one of those days when our Israeli apartment seemed too small to contain his energy. I scooped him into his stroller and headed to the park outside our building.
When we got there, Akiva ran to the swing set and began peddling back and forth. I settled heavily on a nearby bench, gingerly rubbing my sore back. As I watched Akiva soar on the swing, my thoughts turned, as they so often did, to the twins I was carrying. I wondered about my daughter with the cleft — would she feel pretty? Would she grow up feeling confident?
When I was expecting Akiva, the doctors had initially suspected a full cleft palate, not just a cleft lip, and they were wrong. With our daughter, the doctors suspected a full cleft palate — and they were right. The testing and imaging revealed that her cleft was going to be a lot worse than his was.
But it wasn’t only that the condition of the cleft was more complex. This time, I was having a little girl. And girls wear scars differently than boys. For Akiva, it’s just a small mark on his face. With a girl, I worried that the scar would play into her sense of beauty, her sense of self. What would happen when it came time for shidduchim?
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