Two weeks ago yesterday, on November 5th, Tom and I welcomed a bundle of joy covered in goo into the world and she returned our hospitality by making me push her out of my body. Rude.
I spent roughly 8 of my 10 hours in labor in a bathtub filled with my own filth. And I do mean filth. My hair was in a bun at the top of my head and stayed that way for three days, marinating. When I got home and finally felt up to taking a shower, I took a deep breath, and removed the rubber band.
If you’ve ever worked in dog rescue, you know that quite often, long haired dogs arrive with their coats in such terrible, matted shape that they have to be shaved as there’s no saving the mangled, tangled hair. I thought my hair had reached that point. I tried to take a picture of it and it really doesn’t do it justice, but you CAN see a nice big chunk that sits away from my head of it’s own volition.
I’m glad I wasn’t so sleep deprived that I just went right at it with a pair of scissors, although I was close. I doused it in about a half a cup of conditioner in the shower and managed to salvage it.
I do realize that I’m spending most of this post about the best thing to ever happen to me harping on my hair but you guys, it was REALLY impressive.
So now you’re all caught up on where the baby is in regards to inside/outside of my body and the state of my rat’s nest.