We took her in to have her head shaved since it was falling out. As she shaved, the lady at the salon cried. Daddy cried. I cried but was able to hold it together for the most part. Nothing puts a damper on an experience like a, "mommy/daddy, why are you crying?" moment. As she was sitting in the chair and the shaving was coming to an end, my oldest son who had been watching the whole time turned to me and said, "is that Lizzie?".
Her little body is puffing up from the steroids. Her cheeks and torso are noticeably larger. She doesn't seem to mind her bald head. I bought her a pink wig to wear and when she saw herself in the mirror and I asked her what she thought she answered, "um...better than brown".
We are starting to pull ourselves together and are finding quiet moments to feel what we need to feel so we can move on and be productive for her and the other kids.
We took the kids to the county fair yesterday morning. There were stares, questions, and comments. People wanted to know what was wrong with Lizzie and how old the baby was.
We are glad to have made it through another week... that's 3 down and only 113 to go.
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2 comments:
oh my goodness, what a week. i bet she's adorable in that pink wig. i'm glad to hear that you're going to the fair, how fun! give that sweet girl hugs and kisses for us.
Love the pink hair part, hang in there!
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