Growing up with CHD I feel like I never let it define who I was. I knew I couldn’t take off and run around the yard with my brother and sister as long as they did and I was okay with that. I never had any limitations from my doctors, just the ones I put on myself, which I now regret. I was always afraid. I don’t remember my life without having my scars. My parents have no pictures of me without scars on my body. I was three days old when I had my first surgery. No – my skin is not blemish free, or scar free, but I AM beautiful. My scars make me who I am, and they remind me of the pain I went through. Every chest tube that was pulled, every suture that was removed, every sleepless night because I was in too much pain to get comfortable. I am reminded of how my parents never left my side, even after visiting hours were over. I want parents of CHD children or even younger CHD kids to look at me and see that there is hope, hope for today, hope for tomorrow. One surgery, in particular, I was given three percent chance of survival. Don’t be ashamed of your scar(s), for without them, we wouldn’t be here today!