I’m So Happy I Waited Until Motherhood to Get My First Tattoo

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Updated: April 22, 2021
Originally Published: Sep. 28, 2015

When my best friend and I hit the big 4-0, we found ourselves in a little town that was so remote, you’d need GPS just to find it! But hey, every small town has its essentials—a local bar, a convenience store, and of course, a Chinese restaurant. To celebrate our milestone, we decided to make the half-hour journey to the nearest tattoo parlor in Ennis, Ireland, a spot nestled between Feakle and Tulla. We ended up getting our noses pierced at a quirky place called Clown Town, where the limited choices of studs made our decision pretty simple. Unfortunately, I managed to get mine infected by the time I made it to Spain two weeks later, while my friend spent more than a year hunting for the perfect replacement nose ring to swap out the one from Clown Town.

Fast forward a few years—I became a mom to twins! After what felt like an eternity, I finally emerged from the whirlwind of baby life. The days of having a little one attached to me 24/7 were behind me. With some regular help for childcare now, I began to enjoy life outside the house again. I rediscovered what it felt like to sleep, and it was nothing short of a rebirth.

I was itching to update my wardrobe and toss out all my stretchy pants, but the twin weight was still hanging on. Instead of shopping, I found other ways to celebrate my newfound freedom: I jazzed up my hair with some blue and purple extensions, booked a holiday with my best friend, and got another piercing in my ear.

Then, out of nowhere, family and friends started getting ill. I kept hearing reminders to live life fully every day. I’ve always tried not to have regrets, but these health scares made me realize that I couldn’t just assume I’d have forever to check off my bucket list. The time to act was now!

Suddenly, a desire that had been quietly simmering for 25 years exploded in my mind. I had always wanted a tattoo, but the idea of it being permanent had scared me off. In my 20s, I went for body piercings instead—at least those could be taken out, right? (Most of mine are gone now.) So when it came to getting a tattoo, I knew I had to pick something meaningful. I scoured thousands of designs online, but one kept calling to me. I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Next was the dilemma of where to place it. Hiding it felt pointless, but I didn’t want to choose a location that might distort the tattoo as I aged. After some thought, I settled on the perfect spot.

I braced myself for the pain. For 15 minutes, I held still as the tattoo took shape on my skin. It hurt, but honestly, not as much as I had feared. More than anything, it was fulfilling to see my vision come to life. I knew I’d made the right choice.

Now, on the inside of my left foot, there’s a lovely branch with three birds—each one symbolizes my kids. I catch sight of it often and love touching it. I would have regretted getting inked when I was younger; I hadn’t experienced enough to pick something truly significant—nothing as precious as my children.

My 4-year-old is quite observant and immediately spotted my tattoo. Unsure how to explain what a tattoo was, I told him it was a boo-boo. He looked at me, bewildered, and said, “Mama, that doesn’t look like a boo-boo. It looks like a tattoo.” After I stopped laughing and acknowledged his cleverness, I shared its meaning. He replied, “Mommy, that’s not right. You’re missing two birds—you and Daddy.” Once again, it was impossible to argue with the innocent logic of a 4-year-old. I had once doubted if I’d ever get a tattoo, but now I’m excited about my next one!

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In summary, waiting until I became a mother to get my first tattoo was a decision I cherish. It symbolizes my journey and my children, and I couldn’t be happier with it.