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Do you mull over things?
Maybe you call it meditating or chewing on it or even just worrying?
It’s all those little nagging thoughts that plague us in the quiet places of our mind and heart. Often we can’t quite put our finger on what the issue is, but we stew over it, repeatedly.
Well, that’s me. I have been mulling over a thought in my mind for a few days, not being sure if I can communicate it clearly. It is a little nagging thought that I have tried to reconcile within my heart of grief.
It has great joys wrapped up in it. It has dreams, hopes, and a future.
It also has disappointments, despair, and sorrow.
Let me tell you a little about it and see if it resonates with you.
My sweet Millie was a beautiful bald little baby. Now I am sure all mama’s think their babies are beautiful, so don’t burst my bubble if you disagree about mine. I think she was stunning! She has the smoothest soft skin, blue eyes that sparkled, and a bald head that I loved to place my lips on as I kissed her each day.
As she grew, so did her flaxen colored blond hair. It grew into messy stringy curls. Not beautiful ringlets, but more like stand on end wild.
And I love it!
We called her our curly girl. We tried to keep it brushed and styled, but often it just looked messy. We rejoiced when it fit into two tiny ponytails the year she was two years old. If we tried hard we could get it to hang in two sweet ringlets once it was in the ponytails.
During the spring of 2019, I gave Millie her first haircut. It was more a trim but got rid of some of the ragged ends without losing her curls.
When she was diagnosed in June, we started chemotherapy right away. We wondered how long it would take for her hair to fall out? We didn’t know if it would come out in clumps like you see on the movies. We had no clue what to expect.
So, we waited…
On July 10, just eighteen days after receiving chemo for the first time, her beautiful blond curls were falling out. It wasn’t all that noticeable, yet to her it was annoying. She would sit down to eat, and hair was on her hands, in her mouth, on her plate. Silently, slowly, strand by strand it was falling.
I called a friend to come and shave Millie’s head. I tried to act normal, even having Little Man get his head shaved first. I had the big girls all get trims. It was hair cutting day at our house, and yet when it was Millie’s time, I sat her in my lap and wept. The tears and the hair fell together.
As her hair came off, my dreams of long beautiful curls went with it. I quietly gathered up the strands, tucking them in a baggie, that I placed into her scrapbook.
After a few brief minutes of confusion, my precious two-year-old baby began to embrace her new life of cancer. She did not seem too bothered by being bald. She never really wanted to wear bows or hats, only when it was really cold did we talk her into a cute pink hat that someone had crocheted for her. ((I wish I knew who?))
After about 9 months of treatments, her hair started regrowing. By the time spring arrived so had a little peach fuzz that just tickled your lips when you kissed her. When they gave her the last-ditch effort chemo called ICE, all her hair fell back out.
Millie entered this life and left this life bald. I think she was the most beautiful bald little girl my eyes had ever beheld. I miss being able to feel her soft, bald head as I rocked her each night.
The part I have been mulling over is the loss of her physical body. How I miss touching her. Feeling her weight on my hip or in my lap, holding her pudgy hand, kissing her head.
The very things that are so lost to me. Her physical body that I will never touch again.
Then it occurred to me that I have part of her physical body here. Does that sound morbid? I mean that I have her beautiful blond curls, here with me. We kept them. Touching them is actually touching her… not quite, but in part.
Yet touching them also reminds me of the great loss. Where I once ran a brush through to cute blond ponytails, I now can only finger the curls trying not to muss up the ringlets.
There is really not much comfort in having her hair, I would rather have HER bald and ALIVE. Yet even in this, I choose to be grateful that part of her is still with us.
I can go deeper and mull the things I don’t have like her baby teeth, but I try not to venture too deep into the great gaping loss. Instead, I chose to look for what I do have.
I chose to rejoice that I got to be her mama. I am grateful for her memories, her pictures, her heartbeat, her handprints, her belongings, and yes, for her blond curls.
~Because of Millie
Blessings sweet friends…
︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵
☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
I still believe in Millie’s Miracle
☆｡･:*:･ﾟ Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵
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