Take it from me.

One lesson that I learned while pregnant is NEVER, and I mean NEVER cut your hair short when you're only a few weeks shy of your baby's due date. As everyone knows, the hormones in pregnant women are different than those in "regular" women. This is what I blame my extreme reaction on.

First-off, it always seems to take my hair a long time to grow to the length that I want it. When I was just a month away from Chelsea's due date, Andrew's grandma said that I should go do something for myself and I said, "Well gee. Maybe I'll go get my hair cut." I had it all planned out. I knew EXACTLY how I wanted it cut and how it would look when it was done. I walked into the new, but familiar salon, with wash basins, the salon-ists, and the mixture of nail polish and hair product smells unique to salons. I was confident in my decision, but as it always happens, I was nervous. I hadn't had anyone but Tanille from my home town touch my hair since I was 18 years old (and I happen to LOVE my hair every time she does it!) and I was nervous, but Kara was nice and seemed to know exactly what I wanted. I closed my eyes and she began to work her magic.

Before I knew it, five, maybe six inches were gone and my hair was styled. I opened my eyes to behold my new do... My lips froze in a tight smile. Horror threatened to take my composure's place as the once familiar weight of hair had been chopped off and there was nothing more than air where the beautiful brown locks had once been. I tried to lie by saying that it was exactly what I had wanted, but settled for nodding and saying thank you instead as I paid the salon and awkwardly scrambled into my car, the way that only a pregnant woman would. The entire drive home I sobbed and grabbed at the empty space where my hair had once been and lamented that she had cut it far too short. I dreaded the grande promenade that I knew Andrew's grandma would make me endure when I walked in the door and I knew I couldn't bear it! I was torn between racing home to call my mother and driving as slowly as possible to avoid the encounter with Grandma, so I chose somewhere in-between.

When I finally pulled into the garage and grabbed my things, I knew what I had to do. Before Grandma saw or said anything, I raced down the stairs into our room and shut the door. Hardly a second had passed before I threw myself onto the king-sized bed that Andrew and I shared (which is amazing when you're pregnant, by-the-way) and the tears started streaming down my face accompanied by violent sobs.

I could go on, but the point I'm trying to make here is DO NOT CUT YOUR HAIR WHEN YOU'RE PREGNANT! Not if you've had a history of emotional breakdowns after big cuts, anyway. Curious to see how my hair really looked?

Before:

After:

Hormones, friends. Hormones.