My Creator: A story of God’s daughter

By Heather L Eberhart

I was born with a port wine hemangioma birthmark on my face. That’s a lot of big words to say half my face is red and half isn’t.

At first, this was a major concern for the doctors and my parents. The birthmark surrounds my left eye entirely, continues in my mouth and down my throat. 

The immediate concern was for my life - the doctors believed I wouldn't live past the age of seven, and if I did I would suffer from social delays and learning disabilities.

Because of the nature of this type of birthmark and its location on my head, the doctors had reason to think pressure could be building around my brain. 

They advised immediate treatment to work against this, as well as to lighten the pigmentation and reduce the risk of vision loss. Within the first few years of my life, I was put through nine laser treatments. 

Throughout the course of these challenging years, my doctors were happy to report my brain was functioning normally. Praise God!

At this point, further treatments would be considered cosmetic. With the advice of my doctors, my parents chose to cease treatments in hopes that the birthmark would lighten on its own over time.

When I was born, my birthmark was red and it is now pink, but not light enough for others not to notice.

Elementary school was hard, but middle school was excruciating. 

I always knew I was ‘different’  

From my earliest memories, I knew I was different by the way others treated me.

I endured years and years of standing in the Zelienople, Pennsylvania Shop ‘n Save checkout line with my Mom, hearing, “Oh is your daughter okay? It looks like she got punched in the face!” 

I was always confused when a stranger commented, but I rarely had time to react. As a young child, I always had my mom there, who would step in and protect her baby girl.

Relying on Mama Bear can’t last forever and I learned that in middle school. In 6th grade, after being called “Two-Face” in the hallway, I was so frustrated with how God made me.

I believed God made a mistake. Within a week of being humiliated in the hallway, I was in the doctor’s office wanting more surgeries to make me look “normal.” 

I was tired of the comments, tired of feeling different, tired of always having to explain my face to others. I was confused and embarrassed and I wanted to feel normal.

In my mind, no more birthmark equals no more bullying, right?

My mom sat with me in the doctor’s office, holding my hand. In order to start the procedure, I needed local anesthesia.

When the doctor came at my eye socket with the largest needle I’ve ever seen, I panicked. I cried, screamed and told the doctor, “No!” 

I looked to my mom, desperate for help, and I remember her saying, “Heather, I will support you either way, but you know I think you are perfect the way you are, just like Grandma Lee used to say.” 

She said those words and it was as if the world stopped spinning for a moment. 

Stopping the treatments 

My great grandmother instructed my mother, on the day I was born, to mark the backs of my baby pictures so that no one would get them confused with my brother’s photos. 

It seemed unnecessary when one of your children had completely normal facial features and the other had half her face covered in a reddish-purple birthmark.

Except Grandma Lee saw us differently. She saw two beautiful babies. Period. 

Grandma Lee spoke truth to my family in 1987. She repeated this belief throughout the first 12 years of my life until the day she went to be with the Lord. 

She told us that we absolutely cannot judge according to what a person looks like because he or she is valued, loved and adored by our Father in Heaven. 

I don’t remember her words exactly, but they rang true for me and for my parents. And after that day in middle school, the doctor’s office visits stopped. We decided not to go through with the treatments. 

I was in sixth grade, but I knew it was the right decision.

What I knew then – and what I still know today — is that every cell in my body, including the ones making half my face red, has been made in His image. 

His Perfect Image

And if I can stand in awe of His amazing works in the sky, on land and in the seas, I can also smile knowing He made zero mistakes when piecing me together. 

I believe covering up my birthmark is like saying to God, “I know you are perfect and all, but you really screwed this one thing up.” 

It reminds me of Ephesians 2:10: “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” 

Today, I am a confident, healthy 32-year-old child of God and I thank my Creator daily for making me the way I am.

God is MY Creator and He didn’t make a mistake.

Heather L. Eberhart is a speaker and writer inspiring military wives to serve their husbands well while still finding their place in his world. She wears many hats as a triplet mom, mom of four, and Navy wife of over ten years. When she’s not in stay-at-home-mom mode, she enjoys leading worship at her local church, sewing and eating pizza on Fridays. Though the Navy uproots her often, Heather and her family of six currently live in Chesapeake, Virginia. She can be found on Instagram at @heatherleberhart or online at heatherleberhart.com