- My weight. It's one thing to be heavy, but I carry it weird. I have all this extra weight, and it is proportioned in a way as if I am still pregnant.
- I have psoriasis.... You may never see it. But it's there and it's not a good time.
- My skin. It is caught somewhere between still being pubescent and prematurely aging. Awesome.
- Umbilical Hernia. EVEN if I could lose the weight, and EVEN if I could regain a remotely decent shape and EVEN if I came close to thinking about a two piece bathing suit again--I'd have to show off this giant lump in the middle of my belly.
- Stretch Marks. I had a few from the first three pregnancies. Maxx ruined me.
And my newest low self esteem causing attribute:
- Thinning hair. In the last month, my once thick head of hair has lessened by half. It is falling out in a fashion and at a speed that I could never consider normal.
Well, I hit the highlights anyway.
I sat in the examination room of the clinic today, waiting to be seen for this nagging cold that I have been ignoring. I found myself secretly thankful to be there so that I could have an opportunity to nonchalantly ask about my hair. Everyone in my world has told me it is due to stress or is post pregnancy related and that it would correct itself in time. So, in trying not to overreact, or further stress myself thus worsening the situation, I agreed to wait it out. Even though in my heart I worried that it was something other than stress and it would continue until I had not one single hair left. I sat in my exam room crying. Sobbing, actually. Partly because I was sick and fatigued. Partly because I glanced behind me on the paper covered table where I sat, and saw a pile of hair that once was mine. Partly because I could still (quite vividly) feel mom's precious and pitiful feverish head laid over on my shoulder from 3 years ago, as we waited for that exact clinic to do some of the preliminary tests that would ultimately discover her cancer. But mainly, I cried because I realized that I am a total freaking hypocrite.
I sat in the examination room of the clinic today, waiting to be seen for this nagging cold that I have been ignoring. I found myself secretly thankful to be there so that I could have an opportunity to nonchalantly ask about my hair. Everyone in my world has told me it is due to stress or is post pregnancy related and that it would correct itself in time. So, in trying not to overreact, or further stress myself thus worsening the situation, I agreed to wait it out. Even though in my heart I worried that it was something other than stress and it would continue until I had not one single hair left. I sat in my exam room crying. Sobbing, actually. Partly because I was sick and fatigued. Partly because I glanced behind me on the paper covered table where I sat, and saw a pile of hair that once was mine. Partly because I could still (quite vividly) feel mom's precious and pitiful feverish head laid over on my shoulder from 3 years ago, as we waited for that exact clinic to do some of the preliminary tests that would ultimately discover her cancer. But mainly, I cried because I realized that I am a total freaking hypocrite.
I flashed back to a day, where my sweet lil Mama was crying over her hair that was falling out. I remember seeing the hair everywhere, and feeling sad for her. And scared for her. But I remember thinking "who cares about hair?" I even cut mine off to prove to her that you don't need hair to be a beautiful person on the inside. It was my view, that hair was the least of our concerns and I didn't want her to waste a minute crying over it. Then, I snapped back to present day and realized I was squalling over mine.
What. A. Hypocrite.
It's really hard facing a huge change like losing your hair. Cutting your hair off is one thing, you are in control of that. But when it is happening without your permission--that is absolutely petrifying. And my situation is SO minute compared to what she was facing and what she was going through on a day to day basis. Mine may continue, or it may stop tonight. Time will tell. Hers? She knew the odds were against her ever having her thick head of hair again after possible damage from the radiation. Comparing our similarities and our differences, I felt absolutely horrible. I wished sooo badly that I could apologize to her for not understanding and perhaps being a bit more sympathetic. But I stand by what I told mom. Her hair was the least of our concerns. And She was beautiful without it. And there were such bigger things to worry about and countless more things to be thankful for.
I thought about her body and the stages it went through as the disease progressed. How it conquered her slowly.... She lost energy, her hair, the ability to eat, the ability to think clearly, and eventually the ability to stand-- amongst SO many other things, yet she remained strong as could be. Scared maybe. Crying at times, obviously. But still strong. I cried harder and harder as I waited and reminisced. But that cancer, it never got that beautiful heart and amazing spirit. The cancer was beaten to the ground by those attributes. The most important attributes. Suddenly, my tears stopped.
I thought about her body and the stages it went through as the disease progressed. How it conquered her slowly.... She lost energy, her hair, the ability to eat, the ability to think clearly, and eventually the ability to stand-- amongst SO many other things, yet she remained strong as could be. Scared maybe. Crying at times, obviously. But still strong. I cried harder and harder as I waited and reminisced. But that cancer, it never got that beautiful heart and amazing spirit. The cancer was beaten to the ground by those attributes. The most important attributes. Suddenly, my tears stopped.
I left with an antibiotic for the bronchitis. Which officially makes 3 people on antibiotics in my household. I left with a referral to a dermatologist for my hair. Although the dr seems to think we need to take a look at my thyroid. But more than anything, after my trip down memory lane and the drying of my tears, I left with a new perspective.
I don't want to be misleading...I am still scared about my hair. And I didn't have an epiphany that made me ready to break out the hot pants and tube top. I didn't leave full of confidence and proud of all my aesthetic shortcomings. But, I did leave thankful. I am thankful that my lungs are healthy and breathe air in and out with ease.... The same air that allows me to chase my babies through the yard and giggle and pillow fight and blow their bobo's after they've been cleaned, and sing their fever away. I am thankful for my legs that dance goofily and make little girls laugh hearty belly laughs as our living room transforms to a private little dance party. The same ones that kick a soccer ball around in the yard on a nice warm day. Those legs can lift little girls into the air and they instantly transform into super-heroines flying high above the earth looking for someone to save. I am thankful for ears that can hear the soothing popping and cracking of a fire as we roast marshmallows for messy smores. My ears often hear little whispers and giggles, when little girls are supposed to be sleeping....I hear them praying with their innocent little voices, and I know I am doing a little something right. I am thankful for life experiences, good and bad that reveal themselves in the lines and imperfections of my skin. Without those experiences, where would I be? Who would I be? I am thankful for the ability to eat delicious foods and laugh over a hot meal with family and friends. I am thankful for my hands that caress the softest skin until the heavy eyelids of little ones eventually close and they drift into a sweet slumber. Those hands have locked with Michael's so many times that his warm touch is ingrained in my fingertips forever. I am thankful for a body that can stretch and grow and bear the children that now absolutely define me. I am thankful for a mind that can recall precious memories whenever I want to time travel, and allows me to help with homework and think up silly stories that invoke the imagination of little artists' with their crayons. I am thankful that my green eyes gaze deeply into Michael's beautiful brown eyes and I still get a skip in my rhythmically beating heart. In this body, I praise God for my countless gifts. God gave me this perfectly imperfect body to house my spirit that is strong like Mama's and to protect my heart that is so full of love. Oh my heart. Ever growing. Ever breaking. Ever learning. What a thankful hypocrite I am.
