The Mummy Cut

Each time I have been pregnant I have been extremely careful about what went into my body and what I put on my body. That means I was overly cautious about what I consumed as well as what I applied to my skin. I’ll admit I was even a a bit “Pregnancy Paranoid” as those around me would say, “One glass of wine won’t hurt” and “I ate whatever I wanted when I was pregnant, there were none of these rules!”. My own mother and mother-in-law admitted they had indeed had some wine whilst pregnant and look at how we all turned out okay! But I always thought, but what if it wasn’t okay, what if I ate something or did something that hurt my precious baby? What then? I would only have myself to blame and I would never be able to forgive myself. My job as Mummy was clear to me, it was and still is to protect my beautiful bundles from the moment of conception…at least from the moment I saw two blue lines appear and their existence was confirmed.

This “Pregnancy Paranoia” meant I went without for the entire length of the pregnancies. I went without eye lash tints, without waxes (don’t worry, I did shave), without perfumes, without hair colours, without make up (for the most part) and the list goes on. I forced myself to say no to unbaked cheesecakes, to soft cheeses, to deli meats and fast food. Not one morsel of delicious food listed on the ‘Foods to Avoid During Pregnancy’ check-list passed through my lips. By week 36 I was writing my husband an extensive list of foods I wanted him to bring to hospital once the baby was born. I was also scheduling in beauty treatments that had been forbidden during pregnancy, just in case any dyes or parabens were absorbed and passed onto my unborn child.

After the first weeks (months really) tending to my newborns every need, feeding and sleeping the days and nights away, I suddenly realised I no longer really knew who I was anymore. Yes I was still Rachel, yes I still looked the same (well kind of, underneath the tiredness, wounds of childbirth and stretching of pregnancy) but in the flux of pregnancy and Mummy hormones and with my new job as full time mother, I had lost myself. It wasn’t upsetting to me to feel lost, as I knew I was lost to a greater love for my child, yet I still felt I needed to find myself again, even if only briefly. Pondering how to do this I remembered a wise nurse telling me that I needed to look after myself in order to look after others. Yes, thats’ it, I needed to actually do something for myself. But what?

By the time I had feeding and sleeping sorted with my new baby months had passed. Finally able to separate myself from my child for long enough to achieve more than a shower I was able to have some time to find myself. I felt terribly worn down, yet also slightly exhilarated when I was able to just be by myself, even if only whilst doing the previously mundane task of grocery shopping. Knowing that once my baby had fed I now had potentially a few hours where I wasn’t “needed” as husband could look after our baby in every other way besides breastfeeding, I booked in to the hairdresser.

As I sat in the chair looking at my exhausted reflection, hair springing about this way and that, I had this crazy thought; ‘What if I cut my hair…shorter…much shorter?’. I hardly had any time to prepare myself for human interactions anymore anyway. Conversations were hard enough without scraggly hair making me look a mess. Surely shorter hair would be easier, and it would be a fresh look for me too. Convinced I would “find myself” with a little TLC I instructed the hairdresser to please cut my hair, not boy short, just shorter than shoulder length. Any last minute concerns were quashed by my inner voice telling me I was a Mummy now, meaning I must be more mature and that means shorter hair, right?

Turns out there’s a phrase for what I did; ‘The Mum Cut’. “Wow, nice do, like your Mum cut, ” well meaning friends would bemuse. Then as I looked around me I saw them everywhere, Mum Cuts. I saw them at the shopping centre pushing their prams with their neat bobs bouncing as they walked. At the park I noticed more Mum Cuts as they chased their boisterous children about, infringed by longer locks no more. And I saw the Mum Cut in the mirror as my own reflection looked back at me shrugging her shoulders, chiding, “I guess this is it, you really are a Mum now”. It appeared to me that the Mum Cut was almost a rite of passage. An epidemic among new Mums as they came to grips with their new roles.

Having recently become a mum for the third time now I have again experienced the Mum Cut, but this time of a slightly different nature. I have been trying to grow my hair longer since my first encounter with the Mum Cut, realising I didn’t need to lose hair to find myself again. So as my Mr 3 months old is slowly forming some semblance of routine, and I have recovered from the throws of birth and now have some handle on mothering three young children, I decided again it was time to do something for myself. But instead of cut my hair, this time I chose to colour it. I hadn’t coloured my hair in years and being a brunette I had never done anything as daring as put blonde through my hair (except for a failed experiment as a teenager when I applied a little bleach found in my mother’s bathroom to a small patch of hair that turned a horrible orangey colour…lesson learnt).

So this afternoon our hairdresser visited our home and as my two curious daughters watched on I had my hair coloured. I’m not sure my kids noticed the change, although Miss 3 now refers to me as “beautiful pretty hair” as she strokes my newly coloured tresses.  And my Miss 2  announced “Painting Mummy’s hair!” Perhaps I should avoid paints for a little while. My thoughtful hairdresser has assured me it will be a low maintenance look, something a mum of young kids needs. But I will need a touch up in how many weeks…? As I jot my next hair appointment in my diary I now know I made the better choice this time, to colour rather than cut, as I already have some “me time” booked in for a few weeks from now. And as for finding me again after being lost to the third love of my life (well fourth if you count my enduring husband), I’m not sure if I ever really will find myself again. I know I would be lost without my beautiful babies, and so I enjoy being lost with them in this blur of nappies, cuddles, songs, mess, play, laughter and love.