It’s that time.
I’m losing my hair. Bea is losing her hair.
No real cause for concern. It’s quite normal, although very disturbing, to start to suddenly lose all the nice thick, healthy looking hair gained during pregnancy and revert back to the usual drab locks. It’s quite normal for baby’s hair to fall out in the first six months as hormone levels adjust too.
As an experienced mother I know that the same thing happened to Sam and I could also gently pass my hand over his four month old baby head and come away with soft strands of fine hair clinging to my fingers too.
As an experienced mother you’d think I would also know about the baby soft spot and not be totally freaked out and ready to hyperventilate with panic and call a doctor when I noticed the soft patch on Bea’s head throb and pulse. Of course, I couldn’t call a doctor in panic because we have another eight days before our health insurance with Bill’s new job kicks in (Insurance is tied to the job and so the day Bill left his old job we lost “benefits” and there is a waiting period before the new insurance take effect, idiotic). The fear of one of my children getting sick while we are without coverage no doubt made my heart pound faster and sink to the pits of my stomach when I noticed the mutant beat of Bea’s head that must surely indicate a substantial problem. Her brain about to erupt from her skull? Is it dipping or bulging? Dehydration? Meningitis? An alien about to hatch? Surely if this was normal I would have noticed the same effect with Sam?
Thank goodness for Google.
Freaky, but quite normal. At least, I’m trying to believe in the words coming to my across the ether and convince myself of this until we can get to see her new pediatrician for her, now belated, four month check up.
I guess this is the point when Sam began to look ginger and have a mohawk before new growth came in blonde and beautiful. While Sam maintained a central clump of hair, Bea’s noggin has become quite sparse all over. Well, apart from the row of straight dark hair along the nape of her neck, and the Grandad patch where all the hair has rubbed off against her cot sheets to form a truly bald spot. This must be why I have suddenly noticed the throb of her cerebral pulse. It is both compelling and abject, sending me into a curious and repellant solitude whenever I look at it, and search it out I now must.