Haircuts and healing

Today I crossed something off my bucket list which I never, ever thought would be so personal.

Today I cut my hair off.

Two, 12-inch pony tails.
Two, 9-inch pony tails.

All four ponies will be delivered later this week to Wigs for Kids, an organization that provides free wigs for kiddos with cancer and other life-threatening illnesses.

It was always my intent to grow and donate my hair someday, it was a bucket list 'must do' before I die. When I left my full-time career and 'gave up' highlighting my hair I knew I was one step closer.
Last summer, when Brooklyn decided to donate her hair, I made a promise to grow mine and donate it as soon as I could. Frustrated with the length, but determined, I continued to grow it. After all, a friend battling breast cancer had no hair... why should I complain?

Less than 6-months later, Brooklyn was diagnosed with cancer.

My hair, growing for an unnamed, blank faced child was suddenly replaced with the vivid image of my own daughter.

What if she needed my hair? What if I needed to shave my hair in solidarity with my daughter?

Early in her diagnosis, when doctors believed she required chemotherapy, my hair suddenly became a way to 'help' her in some way. I held on to this perception for many months, even once doctors were firm that she did not require chemo.

I couldn't stand the thought of cutting it off.
I felt like it needed to be on my head.
Waiting for Brooklyn.
Just in case.

Even in July, when we celebrated with our family and friends, I secretly planned a surprise hair donation chop off and couldn't execute.

What if she needed my hair?

It has taken until now, today, to take this next step in my healing process.

On the drive to my girlfriend's salon, I whispered up to heaven, asking for a sign my family angel guides were with me. I was sick to my stomach... that ego voice in my head had been telling me for DAYS that if I cut my hair off, her cancer would return.

Today, in the company of a dear friend, I cried and laughed and cried again.
She took her time, kissed my head and reminded me that it was going to be ok.

Slowly, she cut the ponies, one by one.
I laid them in my lap, crying.

Crying in the moments following the big cut <3

That sign came, as clear as day, as my dear friend worked away on my new cut. Playing in the background of her home salon, these lyrics....

"Courage, my word
It didn't come, it doesn't matter
Courage, your word
It didn't come, it doesn't matter
Courage, my word
It didn't come, it doesn't matter
Courage, it couldn't come at a worse time."

(The Tragically Hip, Courage)

Tonight I will pray over this donation, and ask the Lord to bless this hair with strength and love for the child who will wear it next. I will also pray for her mother, whose heart is broken in a million pieces. I won't ever meet her, but I understand her more than she knows.

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess

Angel in the Wings

I've held a firm belief in angels for a very long time. When I was a child, I collected angels and displayed them on a large wood shelf in my bedroom. I spent many afternoons staring at my little statues, admiring their shapes and imagining potential personalities.

When it came time to name our children, I felt it important to give each child an 'angel name'. The already difficult task of choosing (and agreeing) upon names now became an opportunity to honour family members gone before us and share their legacy for the next generation.

Nolan's middle name is Scott, after my cousin and childhood hero who took his own life at the young age of 20. He babysat us as kids, taught us how to pronounce U2 and engaged us like no other young family member ever could. He was awesome, and his death devastated my brother and I. My wish is that Scott's love of family influences Nolan to become a well-rounded man and attentive father someday.

Brooklyn's middle name is Amelia, after my grandmother. She was an incredible woman who survived the Holocaust, immigrated to Canada and eventually raised four kids alone after her husband passed away. She endured great suffering, loss and heartache, yet continued to push onward. My wish is that my Babcia's strength of character assists Brooklyn in becoming a strong, independent girl during those difficult pre-teen and teenage years.

Ethan's middle name is John, after Jay's recently departed grandfather. He was a man passionate about the outdoors who taught my husband, then a young boy, to love long days fishing on a quiet boat. In his final years, he took great pride in hearing all about Jay's sales career, living vicariously through the weekly telephone calls. My wish for Ethan is that Papa John's love of nature shine deep into the core of his heart to instill in Ethan an appreciation for the beauty all around him.

I pray every night that these angels watch over my children and support them throughout their growing years and beyond. I know that each of my children are being watched over by their 'angel in the wings', and finally found a children's book to put a visual to my conviction. We read it often, as I believe it's important for my children to know they are never alone.

I never imagined I'd have to explain to my children that their cousins also have an angel, but that this angel is extra special. This angel, their little cousin, rose to heaven before they could know or hug her. This little angel, Kinsley, is an angel in the highest regard. Her little soul stands firmly next to her older brothers, watching their every move and ensuring their safety. I like to think she also comforts her parents, lifts them up during the most difficult days.

It's been eight weeks already, since little Kinsley began her duties as angel-in-chief for my sister-in-law, brother-in-law and nephews. And while I've always had a strong faith, this time I'm struggling to understand why. This time I'm asking my angel in the wings to guide me.

Thinking of you, little Kinsley. Auntie Pam loves you very much. xo