Discomfort Begets Growth

If you don't change, the world might make you.

I.

I chipped my tooth in the middle of last night.
On my water glass.

As I walked down the dark hall to the nursery, where my baby girl squirmed with little cries, awaiting my rescue, I ran my tongue along the newly sharpened edge of my smile.

Fuck.

The first time I ever chipped my tooth was the Summer before my Freshman year of high school. I was wasted at a house party and BAM! I hit my laugh on the edge of a beer bottle. I remember not knowing what I was experiencing–the sensation boggling my churning little mind. I remember using a stranger of the house’s toothbrush in a flailing panic, trying to brush the upsetting situation away, before conceding that, indeed, I had chipped my front tooth and, indeed, I would smile like this now. Forever.

My friends found me crumpled in a dark hallway near the bathroom, dazed with my newfound reality.

You can’t take back something broken.

II.

I am losing my hair more and more with every shower.
It sticks to my hands as I comb out my conditioner, wrapping around my fingers with desperation, not wanting to let go.
Let go,
I tell myself.

I awoke two weeks ago absolutely needing a new hair aesthetic.
Though I don’t currently have the resources to set aside the initial time to get it done, or space for the daily effort it requires to maintain a true “look,” I daydream about pink hair and a wolf shag.
Straight, light brown locks.
A blue-black sheen with a heavy bang and bob.

I decided to start blow-drying it
instead of wearing it naturally big/messy/curly anymore.
I just can't stand to look how I've looked for any longer.

I've changed so much inside that I need to see it on the outside, too.

It is typical for a woman to lose a lot of hair after giving birth.
I wasn’t sure it would happen to me, but here we are. Seven months in,
and so it begins.
I’m not sure why, but I always wonder if I’ll be different.
I suppose I figure to be a strong candidate to be the outlier.

There is a reason those short “mom haircuts” exist, it would seem.
You lose a lot of it; it clogs the drains.
The baby forcefully grabs onto whatever you have left in wonder and play.

I’ll keep mine for her sake. Anything that lights up those peepers like my dangling curls do is worth keeping.

III.

Our bathroom and our bedroom are in ruins. Demolished. The hot-water pipe leaked, and in a mere two days, mold crawled up this wall and that.
We moved into the guest bed and guest bath.

I have never had a guest bedroom or bathroom before.
I am extra grateful for them, now.

I bite my lip and squint my eyes as I watch
handfuls of my hair swirl down this formerly hardly-used drain.
Dang. Sorry, drain.

Lillian adored her bath in this new-to-her space.
& it was easier for me to accomplish (without getting in myself)
via the smaller tub our guest bath offers. 

Alan noted that whenever we are forced into new circumstances, Lillian takes a step in her growth, and we, as a family, take a step forward along the arc of our familial routines. This bathroom was always meant to become “the kids' bath,” and now it (forcibly) is. And it will stay so. And all is well.

IV.

Discomfort pushes us into growth.

I bellowed when I saw the actual chip in my tooth. The middle of the night cracking open with a cry, Oh! How I yearn to be more careful with myself. To be disciplined with the nutrients I need to prevent these bodily depletions.

Fuck.

If you don't give yourself enough extra calcium to create the bones of a body for your baby, your body will take it from you to give to them.

How I wish I hadn't needed that push to do better. Alas. The world works in not-so-mysterious ways. Our angels guide us to pay attention if we insist on ignoring the facts before us. 

I am watching my daughter on the monitor, now, playing. She pushes the toy she wants just out of reach and struggles to reach it. She whines and tries and fails. I wait until she cries before going to help her. I wait because it is her want, her inability and her discomfort in that disparity that will give her the chance to grow.

Alan, Lillian and I during our wedding weekend, April 2025

A hui ho,

Julia