My heart shrinks when Valeria, my 7-year-old daughter, tells me she doesn't remember me with hair. It may look like something unimportant, but I would love it to remind me with my eyelashes, my eyebrows and my pretty brown mane that I miss from time to time.
One of my concerns when I started falling was how she would feel, how it would affect her to have a bald mom, and what resources she would have if someone told her about my condition with contempt. His eyes of amazement when the first rounded bald spots appeared and not wanting to talk about the subject made me feel that something inside was not right.
When the fall began, I tried to normalize the situation, I told her that nothing was wrong, that it is only hair and that I was still just as happy. The reaction was always the same, not a word, he turned around and left... I couldn't get into his world, which drove me crazy... Until one day I decided to do what we often proclaim and do not always do: tell him the truth. I sat her on my lap and said: you know mom is very sad, my hair is falling out and I feel very bad, that's why I cry a lot and I don't play with you so much. She looked at me and asked, "Are you going to go bald?" My answer was Yes, but I will be happy without hair, and I will laugh again and we will do a lot of fun things together, because I am strong, we are strong.
At that moment his attitude changed, he began to talk about my fall, he picked up the hairs from the floor with total normality and threw them away, we played in the bathtub, and he laughed that he did not need a plug to fill it, since my hairs immediately jammed him. She helped me choose the handkerchiefs and hats she wore and she loved to put them on. Yes, I know she had a hard time, but not because of my hair loss, but because I looked desperate and sad, which gave me a very different perspective of the hard times I was going through.
Another delicate moment was the day I shaved, the situation had become untenable, I had lighter than hairs and I had no way to hide it, hats were no longer an option.I was spending a few days with my father on the beach, and he had been offering for days, so I asked him. Within 5 minutes I went bald. Valeria was playing with our dog, I approached to show her my new image, she looked at me, she said "well you are very beautiful" and continued with what I was doing. I was surprised once again, I was between scared and liberated, and I expected some reaction from him, but I received normality... that longed-for normality.
After shaving and freeing myself, things began to slowly fall into place, I began to regain my self-esteem, I began to wear handkerchiefs, hats, wigs and anything that could be worn on my head, I began to feel good and those are things that children notice.
When Valeria returned to school, I had become her new bald mom, and I again feared this time the reaction of her peers, and how a 5-year-old girl can explain this to her friends. A week after starting school, I was waiting for her at the exit with a beautiful wig just released. When he saw me in the distance, he started screaming, "Look, my mom, my mom is wearing a new wig!!, Mom!! Yes!! What is a wig!! It's that my mom wears a wig!!" When a battalion of parents, another of children, and some teacher look at you between surprised, worried and funny you feel very small, and you just want the earth to swallow. Unfortunately this didn't happen, so I just replied, "Yes, I'm wearing a wig, do you like it?" To this day I think that that day Valeria gave me one more push towards normalization and acceptance of my situation.
She is not ashamed to have a bald mom, I think at certain times she is even proud to have a different mother. She loves kissing my head, discovering some lost hair and opining on which wig suits me best. He tries to tie me handkerchiefs, at the moment without much success, and it reminds me of the luck I have now in summer, since I am super cool ... And he's right.
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