Shhhh

So, it’s really no big secret.  I don’t have hair.  I decided to shave it off before chemotherapy had a chance to take it all from me.  It was a decision I’m so happy to have made.  It was an empowering one.  Besides, I’d rather look like G.I. Jane, than a hairless chihuahua with wispy clumps, which was exactly the direction my head was headed.  Just not a great look for me, I’m afraid.

It was an experience that will never leave me, the four of us crowded into our bathroom shaving mommy’s head.  Mel and McCanless taking turns with the buzzer.  MC dancing around the sink in and out of the bathroom, not really paying attention or caring that mommy’s head was slowly becoming bare.  I know it helped our family transition, me more than anyone, into full “cancer mode.”  It made it very real and the four of us entered together.  Mel and I have certainly had our fair share of life altering experiences and this, albeit a quite unique one, changed us both and brought us even closer.

So, I’m bald.  There’s not really anything I can do about it.  I don’t have a choice, so I embrace it with my dark brunette wig, scarves, hats, nothing.  Who knew?  I’ve had long hair forever and thought this would be one of the more difficult obstacles to overcome.  I’m actually pretty comfortable with a bald head.  I think I have shocked a few friends who come to the door unannounced to say hello, however.  (This is your warning!)

I’ve surprised myself.

But.

I’m not strong, as some have mentioned.  I had a complete stranger, now friend, who emailed me with a photo explaining that she cut her beautiful 12 inch ponytail to donate to “Beautiful Lengths” after reading my blog.  She’s a strong one.  She made a decision based on what she knew was a wonderful thing to do.  She had a choice.  My hair was falling out by the fistfuls.  Inevitable.  I had to cut my hair.

I’ll admit, I would have never donated my ponytail prior to August 3.

But, I’ve done many things I never would have prior to my diagnosis.

I’ve shaved my head.

I’ve made a point to explain to Mel where I keep McCanless’s snack bags and where Mary Clare’s tiny ponytail bands are hidden.

I’ve hugged my girls more and lingered longer with them in the mornings before school, and at night not worrying about tardies or bedtimes.

I’ve thought about how much I love my house, rather than wish it to have just one more closet or one more room.

I’ve taught my four and seven year old girls what cancer means.

I’ve learned how intensely loyal Emmie is.

I’ve worn hats and scarves and wigs.

So although two months ago, I would have not chosen to have a bald head and everything that goes along with it, I’m thankful for the surprise lessons of humility, tolerance and appreciation it has taught me.  And today, it’s no secret that I’m bald.

But, I love my bald head.

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