It’s been a while since I’ve really enjoyed getting my hair cut. You see, I once had a hairdresser who I loved. Her name was Lisa the Wonderful & she was, indeed, wonderful. She knew everything there was to know about cut & color & grief & anger & forgiveness. She met my sisters & me only days after Mama died… & even after we learned how to be “normal” again, she remembered those raw, wounded, motherless little girls from that first visit. She knew the “normal” was a mask. She got it.
And then she died. At age 40, she died in her sleep. And on some irrational level, I felt that we — Jen, Sue & I — were somewhat responsible. Lisa was perfectly healthy, & then we came into her life, & then she died. The end. I really loved her, & I miss her, I do.
So last week, I realized that my hair was nearing my waist. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I had it cut/trimmed… I could probably do a search of this blog & figure it out, but I’m not gonna… it’s just been a really long time. So in my new-to-me car (which I still love & adore & cherish, by the way), I drove to a little place around the corner that accepts walk-ins. I waited 10 minutes or so, & then took a seat in the chair of a girl named Jill. Told her what I wanted, & we headed to the shampoo station.
But then something unexpected happened. She & I, we clicked. We both have degrees in areas that we don’t like. We both have made drastic career changes — me from purchasing to daycare, her from food science to cosmetology. Turns out, I went to high school with her husband…. welcome to living in a small town. She mentioned that she had a 4-yr-old little boy. And then I asked if she & her husband were planning to have any more kids, & she replied “We’re trying… we have some problems getting pregnant.” Turns out that her RE is Doctor-Man, my RE #2. And she got pregnant via IUI, & is now experiencing secondary infertility. We talked about RE’s & testing & treatments & how it’s hard not to be bitter when others are spitting out kids like Pez dispensers. And she didn’t even mind when I wept while recounting my babylosses 1, 2, & 3. She was a kindred spirit. Those don’t come along every day.
Jill the Hairapist gave me so much more than a haircut. She understood. She reminded me that it’s time to get back on the baby-train. I’ve been taking a break long enough… & as afraid as I am of another miscarriage, I know that I have to try.
And my hair looks really cute too :)