I originally wrote this blog earlier in the year but feel one part, one really important part, is totally relevant to comments that hurt and ‘that adoption question’.
I presently have a shaggy curly mop. I don’t actually know what to do with it having never had curly hair before. Some days I love it but there are moments when I find it frustrating and really hate the way it looks. It makes me mindful of the hair I have, and haven’t had, over the last eighteen months.
In 2019 I cried in the shower when my hair started to fall out as a result of chemotherapy. In the bath a few days later I cried again as I suddenly realised it was floating all around me and coming out by the handful. Within a couple of days I took the scissors in hand to lop it off before it entirely fell out.
I cried as I made the initial few cuts and saw my hair falling to the floor. Then hubby took over and my feelings changed. We were both enjoying the craziness of hacking away at my hair without worrying about how it looked and almost fighting to be in charge of the scissors. We started to laugh and I was smiling when he finally buzzed it all off.
I had taken control and it felt good. I liked the freedom of not having to deal with a hairstyle every morning, I didn’t mind how I looked and having it short relieved me from some of the pain associated with chemotherapy hair loss.
I wasn’t sure initially how I’d feel when I went from GI Jane to being completely bald, but it was OK. I never felt the need to wear my NHS wig and just adorned one (of my many) hats when the weather was cold. I understand a wig is a comfort for many but to me it seemed alien and in a reverse thought pattern almost a way to highlight my cancer. I preferred to be boldly bald and loved my head henna tattoo for Christmas.
Anyhow the months have now passed since my chemotherapy finished and my hair has been steadily growing back. The chemo curl (as it is known) came in abundance. A few months ago it was long enough to start getting tangled and after several days of not being able to wash it due to vertigo it was really knotted. I sat in the bath and applied the conditioner to comb it through. Then I saw my comb was filled with hair and I cried. I knew it was not the same scenario as in 2019 but every negative emotion that I had felt in that bath 18 months ago hit me with full force.
It was an unexpected trigger and I could not control how I felt. My emotions were compounded as I watched an advert for Macmillan cancer the next day showing a woman in the shower, with her hair falling out. The advert seemed to be on every channel over the next few weeks. Each time without fail my emotions raised and no matter how I tried to hold back the tears they often ran freely down my face.
I know I can share this story with anyone and receive empathy. We all know someone who has dealt with cancer and how the way we look can play on our emotions. But what if I switched the story to mirror my childlessness? Would people still have empathy?
A trigger is a trigger no matter the situation. It could be something that we know is coming like losing hair, a date on the calendar or a christening. We can try to mentally prepare for those days but it doesn’t mean they won’t hurt.
But equally it is often the times and situations that we cannot predict that hit harder. The unexpected triggers can confuse us and floor us, like natural hair loss, hearing a child’s name, watching a mother hug her child or being overlooked in a conversation.
Triggers change and can vary dependent on time, situation, location etc but they exist and cannot be ignored. A trigger for childlessness can be just as hurtful as one regarding cancer and should not be diminished.
Another thought is that no one ever said to me “Have you considered wearing a wig” because they would deem it insensitive, intrusive and assume it was something I had considered. Yet the same cannot be said for childlessness as people casually throw in the question, “Have you considered adoption”? If we can understand that sometimes our thoughts and suggestions for cancer are best unspoken then we can do the same for childlessness.
It’s time to understand and respect that sometimes the best way to show our love is to silence our advice whilst wholeheartedly and without judgement offer our support.
Stephanie Joy Phillips
Founder, World Childless Week
You can read the original blog here