Updated: April 22, 2021
Originally Published: September 28, 2015
When my best friend and I hit the big 4-0, we found ourselves in a remote location that only GPS could pinpoint. Yet, like many small towns, ours boasted a bar, a convenience store, and a Chinese restaurant. To mark this milestone, we embarked on a half-hour journey to the nearest tattoo shop in Ennis, Ireland, nestled somewhere between Feakle and Tulla. We both decided to get our noses pierced at a quirky spot called Clown Town. With limited jewelry options available, the choice of studs was straightforward. However, my piercing quickly became infected during a trip to Spain two weeks later, while my friend spent a year searching for the perfect replacement for her original Cracker Jack stud.
Fast forward a few years—I welcomed twins into my life. After what felt like an eternity navigating the challenges of motherhood, I finally emerged from the haze of sleepless nights and constant caregiving. With no little ones constantly attached to me, I began to experience the joys of regular childcare and the ability to step out of the house. Sleep became a reality again, and it felt like a rebirth.
Eager to revamp my wardrobe and ditch the stretchy pants, I still hadn’t shed the weight gained from carrying twins. So, in lieu of shopping, I celebrated my newfound freedom by refreshing my hairstyle with blue and purple extensions, planning a getaway with my best friend, and adding another piercing to my ear.
But then, one by one, family and friends began to face serious health challenges. Their struggles served as poignant reminders to seize each day and live life without regrets. This string of events reminded me that I couldn’t postpone my dreams for some vague future. The time for action was now.
A long-buried desire from my younger years surged back into my mind—I had always wanted a tattoo but hesitated due to its permanence. In my 20s, I opted for body piercings instead, knowing they could be removed. Now, I needed to ensure I chose something meaningful for my tattoo, as I didn’t want to look back with regret. After scouring thousands of designs online, one particular tattoo kept calling out to me. I finally decided on a location that felt right; I wanted my tattoo visible, not hidden away, but also mindful of the natural changes my body would undergo over time.
As I sat down for the tattooing process, I braced myself for the pain. But as the needle danced across my skin for 15 minutes, I didn’t flinch. While it hurt, it was far less than I had anticipated. The experience was satisfying and felt like a tangible manifestation of my personal journey. I knew I had made the right choice.
Now, etched on the inside of my left foot is a delicate branch with three birds, symbolizing my children. I find myself frequently admiring and touching it, a constant reminder of their importance in my life. Had I gotten a tattoo in my youth, I likely would have regretted it; I simply hadn’t experienced enough to choose something so significant.
My inquisitive 4-year-old noticed my tattoo right away. Unsure of how to describe it, I told him it was a boo-boo. He looked back at me, puzzled, saying, “Mama, that doesn’t look like a boo-boo. It looks like a tattoo.” After a good laugh and a moment of pride over his cleverness, I explained its meaning. He then chimed in, “Mommy, that’s not right. You’re missing two birds. You and Daddy!” Once again, I was struck by the innocent wisdom of a child. Despite my previous doubts about getting inked, I now find myself excited for my next tattoo adventure.
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In summary, waiting until I became a mother to get my first tattoo has allowed me to choose something truly meaningful. It’s not only a representation of my journey but also a symbol of my children. The experience has been liberating, and I look forward to what comes next.
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