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I’m Grateful I Waited Until Motherhood to Get My First Tattoo
Updated: April 22, 2021
Originally Published: Sep. 28, 2015
The year my close friend and I hit the big 4-0, we found ourselves in a quaint little town that required GPS coordinates to locate. Like many small towns today, it had a bar, a convenience store, and even a Chinese restaurant. To mark this milestone, we ventured half an hour to the nearest tattoo parlor in Ennis, Ireland—somewhere between Feakle and Tulla. At a place called Clown Town, we decided to get our noses pierced, and honestly, the limited options made picking our studs pretty straightforward. By the time I got to Spain two weeks later, my piercing was already infected, while my friend spent over a year trying to find the perfect nose ring to replace the cheap one from Clown Town.
Fast forward a few years, and I became a mother to twins. After what felt like an eternity of sleepless nights and constant baby care, I finally emerged from the chaos. No more little ones nursing or clinging to me 24/7. With regular childcare support, I began to enjoy my freedom again. I rediscovered the joy of sleep—it felt like a rebirth!
With my newfound time, I craved a wardrobe update and wanted to toss out all my stretchy pants. But since I hadn’t lost the weight from carrying twins yet, I looked for other ways to celebrate my freedom. I refreshed my hairstyle with vibrant blue and purple extensions, planned a getaway with my best friend, and even added another earring to my collection.
Then, one by one, friends and family started facing health challenges. Reminders to live life to the fullest echoed around me. I’ve always aimed to live without regrets, but this string of illnesses made me realize that I couldn’t postpone my bucket list any longer. There truly is no time like the present.
An itch I hadn’t addressed for 25 years suddenly surged to the forefront of my mind. I had always wanted a tattoo but had been intimidated by its permanence. In my 20s, I opted for body piercings instead—those could be taken out, right? (I’ve since removed most of mine.) So, it was crucial that I chose a tattoo that truly resonated with me. After browsing countless designs online, one particular image kept drawing me back. I knew I had to make this decision count.
When it came to placement, I didn’t want to hide it away. That would defeat the purpose! But I also wanted to avoid a location that would distort the tattoo as my body changes with time. Eventually, I found the perfect spot.
I braced myself for the pain. For 15 minutes, I sat still while the permanent design slowly took shape on my skin. It hurt, but not as much as I had anticipated. More than anything, it felt rewarding to see my vision come to life. I knew I had made the right choice.
Now, on the inside of my left foot, there’s a beautiful branch with three birds symbolizing my children. I find myself looking at and touching it frequently. Had I gotten a tattoo when I was younger, I likely would have regretted it, as I hadn’t experienced enough life to choose something so meaningful. Nothing is as precious as my children.
My 4-year-old, being quite observant, noticed my tattoo right away. Unsure how to explain what a tattoo was, I told him it was a boo-boo. He looked at me and said, “Mama, that doesn’t look like a boo-boo. It looks like a tattoo!” After I recovered from laughing and praised him for his cleverness, I explained its significance. His response? “Mommy, that isn’t right. You are missing two birds—You and Daddy.” Once again, I found it hard to argue with the innocent wisdom of a child. I had been hesitant about getting a tattoo, but now I can’t wait for the next one.
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In summary, my journey to getting my first tattoo was not just about the ink; it was a celebration of my identity as a mother and a reminder of what truly matters in life. Waiting until I became a mother allowed me to choose a design that holds deep significance, making the experience all the more rewarding.