Well, after lengthy attempts at saving it, our household had to cut off all of Honeybee’s hair. Yep. We didn’t want to, but it had to be done. Honeybee has eczema-very, very bad eczema from head to toe. Some days, it is great and doesn’t bother her at all. Other days, it is very uncomfortable for her and she itches incessantly. One of the worst spots for her is her head. Because her head sweats and she couldn’t reach the itch, she opted to pull out great plugs of her in her journey to stop the itch. Our doctor told us we would probably have to cut her hair, but we continued to try and save it. Alas, the comb overs weren’t doing it. The standard Aveenos don’t work as she is highly sensitive to anything remotely related to oatmeal. Shea butter is a friend, but only for a while. Prescriptions can work, but when they wear off, her itch seems to be intensified. Plus, we aren’t fans of long term steroid use for infants…neither is our pediatrician.
So, finally, on a Saturday morning, after the haircut for SuperBug (aka Doodle who has decided recently that he would rather not be Doodle anymore), FatherWinter cut her hair. I was downstairs as I didn’t want to see the thick tightly curled afro disappear. When I came upstairs after it was done….I smiled J It was cute. Her features suit her new low cut perfectly. She is gorgeous, but she could be in a brown paper bag and be gorgeous to me. The important thing is she is very happy, slightly less itchy at night, and still the bright eyed and bushy-tailed Honeybee we know and love.
This weekend, after her daring cut, I had a really cool moment. I was holding my daughter. She was resting comfortably in my arms. She wasn’t sleeping; her dark eyes were quietly observing everything around her. She was lying comfortably against my chest and I was simply staring at her. We didn’t say a word to each other. There was no babble speech from her, no cheery or sing song words from me. We just sat there in complete silence—together. We were both enjoying the moment. Every once in a while she would look up at me and smile. I would return the same and we would return to our previous positions enjoying each other in the solitude and stillness of the night.
These are the moments that I look forward to when the adoption is complete. I look forward to tea parties and bedtime stories. I look forward to holding my daughter in my lap, my son at my side, reading bedtime stories, and building memories as a family.
Let’s hope that becomes our reality sooner than later.
