Pyjamas and Lego Sets - How To Be A Mother When Your Heart is Breaking

The first time, I came home early and saw what couldn’t be unseen - then arguing in the lane, he’s sat in the pushchair…

I grab my sunshine boy, two years old, and put him in his carseat. Two weeks before this, in his childhood innocence, asking aloud why his mother was being shouted at. Driving, driving. Can’t go home. I end up at my grandmother’s house drinking sugary tea and crying my heart out.

The second day, I go to work, a new class of new mamas preparing for birth. I come back to my mother’s to find him ill with shock, he’s thrown up all over himself. “My twowsers…” upset he’s wet his pyjamas with vomit. How to be a mother when your heart is breaking. It breaks twice, you see. Once for you and once for them. When all he’s ever known is home. Sleeping with your baby boy in your childhood bed. Barrage of messages to your phone, began sweet and now turn scary.

Pale and wan, now with energy to just focus on this little one. It was always you two anyway. Packing up the house in two hour slots, you cannot leave him longer. On my back as we go up in the lift to file the papers. Hiding under the desk as we try to find a home. We stay local, the park and softplay, but it’s embarrassing. They all see me and they know.

Then – too soon, too soon, you know it’s too soon, but he’s so convincing. So charming, so perfect. Fast forward 18 months and you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom having a panic attack in the shower. You are not even afforded privacy as he breaks the lock, the last of your boundaries decimated. You want to stay, to find a place.

The baby. The last time the baby will sleep with both her parents. How to be a mother when your heart is breaking. It breaks twice, you see. Once for you and once for them. She only made it to eight weeks of age unbroken. And now I am scared. I pack frantically.

We go early from school and drive, we hide. They gave him lego to build and I was hungry and the baby wailed. I’m coming home where are you where are you where are you please don’t leave me I love you this isn’t about you you’ve brought this shame on yourself when can I see my daughter you are keeping me from my daughter--- then silence.

I make pasta, go shopping. Feel angry, then not. Feel tired, feel hot. The first few days my heart beats a paranoid tattoo when we go out, my voice desperate and shrill, to keep my babies close to me. Feeling the weight of a thousand eyes searching for me.

How NOT to Grow Out Your Pixie Cut

So it's been a year since I cut all my hair off into a pixie for the second time and thus commenced the second worst hair year of my life. Don't get me wrong, I love pixie cuts. But they're just not versatile enough for me. As soon as I make the chop that I've been obsessing about for months I immediately make plans to start growing it back. It's really hard going and I'm just going to share with you the stages and where I went horribly wrong!

The important thing to remember when growing out a pixie is you need to grow the front down and keep the back short to avoid getting an unfortunate mullet.

I woke up this morning with a bob (YAY!) which means this part of my journey is over. I would like to emphasise that I could have been at this point six months ago if I hadn't faffed around with all the different options!

Stage 1: Pixie Cut

Looking back I think I look really sweet but despite the smiles I spent a lot of this day crying! I crave the feeling of chopping hair off but as soon as it's done I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do with it. I immediately resolve to begin growing it.

Stage 2: Headbands and highlights

I coloured the ends of my hair and used serum and dry shampoo to trick people into thinking it was longer. Okay, to trick ME into thinking it was longer. Nobody else gave a shit. It's a good way to weaken the ends of your hair and stunt growth. At this point I have to keep trimming the back so I don't get a mullet as my hairline is incredibly low.

Stage 3: Go Green

Still not sure why I did this but I loved it. My husband did not. Colouring my hair distracted me from growing it, although I will say bleaching the will to live out of your hair is possibly NOT the best way to get maximum growth. I do love this hairstyle though that I learned from growing it out last time - twisting and pinning random bits of hair away from your face to give the impression of length.

Stage 4: Haircut

I'm brunette again. I loved this haircut for all of two days until I realised there was no way on earth I would be able to style it like this myself.

Stage 5: Nearly there!

By the power of henna I was ginger again. AAAHH I was so nearly there look at that length! It was basically a bob! So what I decided to do was shave a massive patch off the side of my head in a DIY undercut.  Good move, Ellie.

Stage 6: Mohawk

So because my growing out mission was nearly complete I decided to shave both sides of my head and get a mohawk. As you do. I actually adored this haircut for a fair few weeks

Stage 6: The Era of Scarves

So many scarves. When I don't style my mohawk I look like the mum from Home Alone. Pins and scarves it is, forever and ever.  Also brunette again. Growing out my fringe seems like a good move at this point to gain the illusion of length.

Stage 7: Sideswept undercut

Some days this looks awesome and some days it looks truly horrendous. I'm still having to trim the back to prevent weird low hairline growth.

Stage 8: A BOB

I'm still pinning the back because of my freaky hairline but today marks the day I leave the pixie behind. Freeeeeeeeeedoooommmmmm.

So there you have it. While most people would see a big chop as a chance to grow out some fresh undamaged hair, I clearly see it as an opportunity to bleach, highlight, colour and shave the crap out of my hair.

If I start musing about chopping again please refer me to this year of hair hell. 

Happy growing!

Spiritual Practise | Jenny Wren

Two weeks in quarantine.

First diarrhoea and vomiting and then chicken pox.

I send frustrated messages out to friends and family

Bemoaning the situation.

That I am the only reliable parent.

I am the only parent.

Cancelling commitments and ending screen time restrictions.

At my lowest

I breastfeed while sat in a puddle of sick and as she is heaving she asks for more and more.

Judah starts to feel better and resumes bouncing off the walls.

But we are trapped.

When we are mothers we deny and deny

We wail at the injustice

Sometimes we simply walk away

Say

"I can't do this anymore"

Yet come back to offer the breast again, with a sigh.

This is resignation

This is love

And I am reminded

That most of motherhood

Is a spiritual practise.