The confession: haircut chronicles

My confession admits to my depression.
I used to ignore it.
Treat it more like an apparition.
It was just there, sorta like your hair.
But now it's gone and all I'm left with is fear.
Fear and shame every time you call my name.
I turn my head because you don't look the same.
The voice it matches and I close my eyes to smile.
The memories all flood back, my beautiful little child.
"But mama, it's still me. I'm still the same. Why, oh why would you turn your head in shame?"
Because I've let my anxiety and society let me think that hair could define me or you or our relationship.
I could never love you less and even though I couldn't imagine loving you more, i do.
Every day I wake up, I'm glad it's with you.
My son, you're the best and you make me better.
You've embraced this cut even when I ran from it.
Your tiny frame enjoyed this transition with a joy that I have never endured.
I'm grateful your smile is contagious.
One that last for ages. Thank you for forgiving me and all my insecurities.
I love you and your cut and your feet and your tiny, little butt.
I love your dimple and everything about you. It's oh soo simple.
Your wisdom will get me through and the knowledge that I hope to share with you.
You've shown me the way.
There is no shame. No anxiety.
No depression.
None of society's impressions.
My beautiful baby has made me proud.
As a mama, I'll say it loud.
I'll love you unconditionally if you promise, my baby to always be......💗