I have been bald now for almost three weeks. I'm getting used to it for the most part. I've got lots of great hats, many thanks to my mom, cool new big earrings, and a wig that I wear when I want to "fly under the radar" as my cancer-vanquishing friend put it. When I went out with some of Jeff's work friends that's just what I needed to socialize without having to talk about my bald head all night. But most days, I don't feel like wearing the wig all the time. It gets itchy, it feels like it will fall off imminently when I am chasing (read running!) after the boys, and I ain't going to wear it at the gym.
And then tonight Ben asked me to wear my wig to his birthday party so his friends don't laugh at me. I may be starting to feel comfortable in my own skin but Ben is six, and he wants to fly under the radar. Six-year-olds notice and compare everything, and as much as I don't always want to talk about my bald head, he wants to be peppered with questions from his friends even less.
My sage preschool director Mame preemptively asked me how the kids were handling my baldness. I told her Alex insisted I wear a hat at every waking moment for the first few days, and now seems okay with it. Same reaction from his preschooler friends - intense curiosity followed by almost immediate acceptance. But Ben, I told her, refused to talk about it. She counseled me to help coach him how to respond to his friends' questions, and I made an attempt, but he wasn't ready. I will keep trying. The hardest part is I don't know how long I will be bald. It could be a year, it could be forever.
And so I ask myself - how much discomfort do I help him through? How much do I help him avoid by wearing a wig when I can?
And of course it is parenthood that has given me this true gift of empathy. A deep relationship or spouse gets us on this path, but being a parent has changed the way I think of self. I will never forget the moment it shifted completely for me: I was flying back with Jeff and Ben across country and I got sick. So sick I spent five hours locked in the airplane bathroom vomiting. And the only thing going through my head was "Thank God it's me and not Ben".
I don't care what the six year olds in Ben's class think about my bald head. But I think about Ben suffering on my behalf, because of something he can not control, and tears start rolling down my face.
Wow. I love reading these Megan! This makes me think there is a need for a children's book, "When Mommy Loses Her Hair" or something like that. Do 6 year olds still like books? And maybe it could all be disguised in terms of animals instead of humans. Something external to the real situation, but one that models ways of behaving and reacting to things that might be embarrassing. Sometimes kids can learn when they observe others in a similar situation, whether that be a book, or a play, etc. And then it feels safer perhaps. Your post also reminds me that maybe you could have a party (separate from Ben's Party) where you invite his friends and parents over and have a "Celebrate Bald Heads" and everyone can touch your head, and maybe you have paints that people can draw on your head, and where you talk openly how being different is OK. Just brainstorming here. Blessings to you in this adventure, sister!
ReplyDeleteHilary, what a fantastic idea. Whether 4 or 40, our prejudices and fears stem from a lack of awareness. As Megan points out, Ben may not be ready to hear the message, but putting the situation in a context he imore readily understands could help him ( and others) get there.
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