Mother of two boys

“So, how many children do you have?” asked the hairdresser, a nice enough woman named Lyn. We had only just met, it having been nearly two years since I’d needed more than a trim. I’d already explained my recent trip through chemo and the resulting unfamiliarity with my new wavy hair, asking her to make it look “cute,” that being the most I could hope for. So now apparently it was time for the small talk.

“Two,” I said, “two wonderful little boys.”

“Both boys?” she asked.

“No girls? she tsked tsked.

“You need a girl,” she pronounced. “Family isn’t complete without a little girl.” “Yes, you should have a girl.”

“No.” I said.

“No, I like my boys.”

And finally, when she wouldn’t stop, “No, I can’t. I can’t have any more children — the cancer, remember?”

But she kept going. “Oh, but you need a little girl.”

So I finally said, “No. They took out my breasts and my ovaries. I can’t have any more children.”

And she cut my hair in silence, not responding to my attempts at small talk about the weather and her time at the salon.

I know, she felt uncomfortable. I did too! But it is what it is. I have a cute new haircut, I don’t plan on seeing her again, and I’m satisfied with my life. Thrilled with my family life.

I am the mother of two boys.

Shaking my head, I walked out of the salon half an hour later and headed off to see my osteopath. He adjusted my back, adjusted my neck, and adjusted my back again. It’s not going to stay adjusted, he said. I can prescribe exercises, and see you regularly, but it won’t stay adjusted until your back gets stronger.

The back ribs don’t want to stay in place, he said. Too much trauma. Too miuch time with unequal weight on your chest, he supposed. I’d buy that. I was up to an “F” after all. On one side, at least.

“What can I do about the pain?” I asked. I didn’t want pain meds. Didn’t want injections. But I didn’t necessarily want to be in this overwhelming pain anymore either.

“Do the exercises,” he said, “and your back will get stronger. Come back and see me, and I’ll put the rib back in. In the meantime, walk, rest, and you can try to lie down on your back with a tennis ball — or a racquetball, something small like that, but not as hard —

I can handle that. I definitely know where to find balls like that.

I am the mother of two boys.

And so, after a quick stop for a pint of ice cream and some peanuts in the shell as a treat for my babies, I came home, told the family, and then tried to get past it.

Laughing, running, dancing on the new kitchen floor, we raced away, hand in hand, capes draped around our shoulders like superheros.

And, quickly, I forgot my disappointments and began again to count my blessings.

I am the mother of two boys.

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