Alopecia. Nearly two years on.

As our wedding approached, I, like every other bride before me, started to brainstorm how I wanted to have my hair.  Both myself and Craig agreed that up is how we envisioned it so I pintested ideas and stalked my hairdressers page for a few months for inspiration.

One afternoon in late April I was on the sofa running my fingers through my hair to see if it was fully dry when something stopped me in my tracks. Something that made my heart drop and my eyes fill up. A baby bum smooth bald patch. I snuck upstairs and positioned myself in between two mirrors, kind of how they do it at the hairdressers but with a lot less glamourous reveal. Sure enough, there it was, my first glimpse of alopecia.

I don’t think you can ever be mentally prepared for a moment like that, but for me it came at the worst possible time, twelve weeks before my wedding day. Somehow I knew straight away it was alopecia. (I did the thing you aren’t meant to do and googled it). I booked a doctors appointment and given my circumstances, was referred for an emergency dermatologist appointment. Little did I know  this would be five/six weeks later, because the usual appointments can take as much as twelve months.

In the meantime I joined a group on Facebook. And whilst I didn’t post or interact much, the people on there were so inspirational. I had no idea what level my alopecia would get to. Before my patch was the size of a two pence piece, now resembled the base of a coke can. The thought of losing all my hair terrified me. How would I walk down the aisle? I wanted Craig to think I looked the most beautiful on my wedding day, at that moment the thought of him seeing me like this fetched the most pain.

My appointment came around and the consultant was hopeful. She said she could see the hair follicles starting to do their thing again, and I left with a few medications to help things along, and her ensuring me I was going to be a lovely bride regardless.

Soon the wedding day was here, I purposely positioned myself at an angle where our lovely photographer wouldn't have to capture any of my baldness. My hairdresser did the most amazing job at concealing my patch. And my hair looked fuller and thicker than ever.

Fast forward to two year later. My hair has now grown back but there isn't a day where I don't run my fingers through it anticipating alopecia's return, for I know all too well how lucky I was. But mainly I am grateful, so so grateful.

Life since the wedding

It's now 2019 and 24 weeks since we got married. I did mean to blog again sooner but I had a major case of post wedding blues. Dreaming of our wedding had occupied my thoughts for two years so for it to be suddenly over left me feeling surprisingly awful. Originally I had planned to start up a little chalk board wedding business but as time went on, so did the urge to do that. Everyday life as a family of four took back over and our wedding, as fabulous and flawed as it was, is now just another memory..albeit a great one!

So what has happened since the 'I do's'? (Which were actually 'I wills')

The family-moon

We hired somewhere in Devon and 'staycationed', the week after the wedding, opting to take the boys with us. It was the first week of the summer holidays, and a scorcher at that. A holiday abroad follows this year, as will hopefully a long weekend just the two of us. (A girl can dream right?)

We spent the mornings  BBQing full English breakfast on the balcony, the days down at the beach, the afternoons playing badminton and the evenings curled up on the sofa, doors open wide watching the wild rabbits hop around the garden below. It was perfect, but the rain marked the end of our week away and we had to head home.

The next 5 months

Over the last five months things have pretty much continued as they did before. We've had countless days out adventuring, albeit less documented on the gram, worked and had talks with the bank about buying another house over the next few years.

Maybe now's the time to start changing my name on things?

Our wedding day

I woke up on the morning of the 21st July 2018 with a sore throat. I say 'woke up', I'm not sure that I actually slept. I headed down for a cuppa and a strepsil in an attempt to feel human. And actually microfibred my windows at 6:30am. The boys woke up, the sun was shining and Craig's mum arrived swapping the boys for flowers and a card from Craig. My sister and the makeup artist arrived in union and the nervous sicky feeling hit me for the first time, of what would be many, that day.

My sister went home, my mum arrived for her turn in the pamper chairs. And my maid of honour and  flower girls arrived along with the hairdresser. I stomached a yoghurt. I can remember greeting them at the door, spoon in hand, thinking I was too calm. Mccaullie the make up artist assured me it would change and boy was she right.

Next to arrive was the photographer. Is it weird to say he was my comfort blanket for the day? He calmed me down when I needed it the most. And seemed so in tune with my every emotion. I'm pretty sure every single one of my guests commented on him to me throughout the day, and I think that says more than my words ever will.

I can remember becoming aware of the time. It suddenly felt like it had run away with us. I was still having my hair done, nibbling a cheese sarni at the point where I should of been in my dress, sending the photographer to Craig at the church.

The car was outside as I dived head first into my dress. This for me is where I lost control. This is the bit I'd do again if I could.  I went from sitting in my kitchen to being outside the church in 30 minutes. I wanted to be on time, I wasn't going to be late. I told them to skip fastening my buttons, using the crotchet hook would take too much time, but by the time I walked down stairs the zip was undone. So Josh (the photographer) fastened them and by this point  I was overwhelmed. I was so hot and scared I was sure I was going to faint. I cried when my neighbour waved from the window. I cried to my boss outside the church because I couldn't walk in my underskirt (the stitching I had done to alter the waist had loosened making it slip down).  I cried up the aisle. They say walk slow, take it in, but I needed to get up there (which, let me tell you, didn't make my posture/face on my mid aisle photos great).

I needed to get through the ceremony as fast as I could without fainting. The church was a blur. The church id also love to do again, its such an important part. I remember Craig saying "you look stunning", and us showing each other our matching terrified hands. I blasphemed at one point too.

I'm going to hell.

We were pronounced husband and wife.

Confetti was thrown.

The church bells rang, they rang for me..a moment I've dreamt of my whole life but I still didn't fully take it in. I just wanted the underskirt off. It was the car driver that told me to actually. And I can honestly say it saved me from fainting.

On the run up to the wedding I loved the effect of the underskirt, I imagined myself spreading my dress and veil out for every shot. I didn't. I didn't care. My make up, my hair, how did it look? I didn't care. When they say on the day the small things won't matter they are right. During my photos I was absorbing alone time with my new husband. The ring on Craig's finger is what mattered. A week later, writing this on the drive home from our familymoon in Devon, I tear up every time I see it. So yes there are bits I'd like to redo again. But I now have the same last name as my boys and that's all that matters.

We did speeches, I cried some more. The cake was beautiful.

We had an awkward cake cut.

Followed by an even awkwarder first dance.

Then I got into my harry potter pjs , ate pizza delivery and stopped caring. The atmosphere changed and we had a fabulous night!


With thanks to all our venders/supplies, and to Josh for these photo's and generally being awesome!

 

 

Bridlington beach

There was a time where I really didn't enjoy the beach. A short visit was bearable (provided fish and chips were on the menu), but anything longer than an hour or so sat on the sand would bore me. My love was, and still is, walking in the peak district..but recently something has changed.

Since making a conscious decision to embrace every second of family time, the beach has been a happy place. I smile inwardly watching my family race around. I watch them splash in the sea, build sandcastles, chase each other with crabs/seaweed and there isn't a part of me that is bored. Fish and chips however, is still mandatory.

 

A childs grief

Yesterday when we were about to leave the cemetry (known to the boys as 'Grandads garden '), Rio cuddled the headstone and started sobbing. I saw his eyes start to fill moments before it happened and beelined for him. Through his sobs I could hear "I want my grandad", and I started crying with him, because I want him too. Time isn't a healer. Time is another day without him here. Rio may of only been three when he passed away but we had lived with him from birth up until that point. Losing his Grandad was like losing myself or Craig for him, an every day figure. I think the physical action of hugging the headstone to say bye made him realise he hasn't had contact with his Grandad for over a year because its impossible. He isn't just somewhere else in the country, he is gone.

There were tears at bedtime. And again I couldn't control my own. It just goes to show that like us, children grieve in their own time too.

 

Life Lately

2017 hasn't been the best year so far for us, I'm hoping that it will redeem itself because we all know that 2016 didn't start that well either, and overall that was a great year for my little family. Over the past month or so we have been struck with lergy after lergy and in turn that has left us pretty housebound. We haven't had that many adventures lately, but thankfully we have our annual passes so sometimes we've managed to 'pop' out at least.


I'm hoping for nice enough weather to get a walk in this weekend but in the meantime, here's a little of what we have been up to in photos.