I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville wife and mother with a passion for family travel, (mostly) healthy cooking, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries with you, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark.
August 11, 2007
I know, I know, this is supposed to be the “Blended Family Blog” around here and I’m probably all up in the “New Baby Blog’s” grill with this post, but People, Mah Hair Is Fallin’ Out and I’m Totally Freaking.
Of course, I should remain calm and composed; after all, the same thing happened about four months after my last pregnancy, but somehow, I managed to eliminate that memory from my mind and convince myself that this time, the lush, shiny mane I’d been swishing around along with my baby-filled belly was going to stay put on my head forever and ever. Pregnancy may have given me saggy boobs and a Spanx-encased midsection, but dammit, it also had given me great hair and there was nothing any of these belly-button ringed, silicone-enhanced betches-about-town could do about it.
And then all hell broke loose on my head.
Hair began clogging my drains, forming tumbleweeds on the bathroom floor and getting caught up in the folds of the baby’s plump little arms and legs. I have lost so much hair, in fact, that I’m surprised that any is left on my head. By day, I comb it carefully, willing my mutinous scalp to hold on to what’s left. By night, I dream of Rogaine. I’m not kidding.
I dream of Rogaine.
And the memories come flooding back of this same moment in time three years ago, when my first head of pregnancy hair callously left me for the city sewer.
I can’t say I’m happy about this turn of events when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror; if I’ve lost my hair and my figure, what exactly do I have left? And that’s when I hear it- a magically soothing baby giggle that gets me every time, even at the ungodly hour of 5:45 each morning when Bruiser inexplicably wakens.
I look at him with his unruly curls, his bright blue eyes, his two-toothed grin and realize that I’d gladly give up all my hair for him if I had to. My hair, my waistline, my teeth, anything, just to have him around. I’m sure I’ll feel that way forever, or at least until he’s a teenager. And then I’ll totally have major guilt trip ammo.
Don’t you talk back to me! I got fat and went bald for you!
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.