Part 2 👇
The surgery took eight hours.
When I woke up, my head was wrapped in thick white bandages.
My face was so swollen I could barely open my eyes.
Every sound felt too loud.
Brian was there, holding my hand.
“They got it,” he whispered. “The doctor said they got all of it.”
I cried. And it hurt to cry.
Five days later, my mom brought Evie to the hospital.
I almost asked them to wait. To come back when the swelling went down.
But I missed her too much.
She walked in holding her pink hairbrush. The same one she uses every night.
Then she stopped.
She looked at the bandages. She looked at my swollen face.
Her little lip started to tremble.
I held my breath.
Then she walked to my bed, climbed up very carefully, and looked at the bandage for a long time.
“Mommy,” she said, “where’s your hair?”
“It’s gone for now, baby,” I said. “It will grow back. Slowly.”
She thought about it.
Then she put her hairbrush in my hand and said,
“Okay. Then you can brush MY hair until yours comes back.”
Brian walked out to the hallway. My mom covered her mouth.
And I brushed my daughter’s hair with shaking hands, crying the whole time.
The months after were hard.
Radiation. Steroids. Days when I was too tired to stand.
My scar is long. My hair came back short and curly. Nothing like before.
Some days, I still miss my old face.
But every night, Evie climbs onto my lap with her pink brush.
Last night, she ran her tiny fingers through my short curls and said,
“Princess Mommy, I like your new hair.”
To everyone who prayed for me that night… thank you.
She still calls me pretty.
If you believe a mother’s love is more than a face, please send Jessica a ❤️