New Hair Do

Well my little girl did pretty good today. 5 times up during the night (could be worse) and probably about the same number of crying episodes today about her belly. (also could be worse). My day, however, was not the greatest. I did leave her home today with Priscilla, a woman who has watched her almost every Tuesday since she was 1. I felt comfortable with it. I actually went to the grocery store and went to work for about 2 hours...(I used to work every Tuesday..about 5 hours..but that has fallen down in the last month) But the hair! It keeps falling out with every bath, every brushing. Something needed to be done, so we had a friend of a friend come over to cut it short. I was actually off getting my own hair cut tonight, so Jerad and Suzanne managed it for me. Honestly, I did not want to be here anyway. There is no way I wanted to watch it. The girl has had long hair her entire life. For years, I religiously put pig tails in it everyday. She has beautiful hair. Wherever we go, people always comment on her hair. The thickness, the color, the style. Until now.

Now her hair is almost gone. I can almost hear the collective gasp of people when they see her now. I have seen people cry over it. Of course, no one would ever say a thing. I know it is just hair. But it is symbolic. Now she looks sick...like every other cancer patient. I still remember the feeling I had when I saw my Mom bald for the first time. She took her wig off and showed me. I said "Mom, you look great...you are beautiful no matter how you are" And she was beautiful to me...the most beautiful there is...but I still felt my breath being taken away from me when she first showed me. Once I got used to it, it was second nature. That is actually how I remember my Mom. I would rub her little head for hours.

So maybe that is my problem. My mom lost her hair and shortly thereafter she died. Maybe I have some sort of hidden complex about it. Maybe I just want to remember the pigtails and innocence of my little three year old Allison. Maybe it is because I am scared people will stare at her when and if we ever take her out. Maybe it is because I am scared that a big chunk of my daughter's childhood is being robbed from us.

People keep telling me, "Janel you are so strong. How do you do it? You are so brave...." and I am strong, on the outside. I would not like the kiddlings to see anything different. Someone has to keep the ship upright. But inside, a little piece of me is dying with every bit of hair that falls out. For now, the hair is just short. Not gone. But it is only a matter of time.