I’M GOING BALD. Monday in the shower my hair started falling out in clumps and by yesterday afternoon everything in my house was covered in long blond strands. They’re on my clothes, in my food, wrapped around the baby’s tiny wrists and toes. I’m suddenly picturing a future of Bret Michaels-style wigs attached to bandannas attached to hats covering my shiny hairless scalp. Maybe I can get them in fabrics that co-ordinate with my Bobby covers. I’m told this is a perfectly normal part of the joy ride known as the postpartum period but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

Imagine someone tells you “Tomorrow when you wake up, everything will be upside down. The furniture will be on the ceiling. Water will run uphill. Gravity as you know it no longer exists.” “Got it,” you say, “Upside down.” You go to bed fully prepared because you have the information. Other people might be freaked out. People who haven’t been paying attention are going to be totally shocked. NOT YOU, because you KNOW. You bought a book about upside-downness.

But in the morning when you’re staring up at your carpet and down at your slippers, you will still scream “WHAT THE $%^# IS HAPPENING TO ME?!”

99% of pregnancy, birth and motherhood can be described with the above analogy.

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