The Journey of Postpartum Baldness

Getting my annual haircut a few weeks ago, my hairdresser Shelby inquired about my rather unique hairline. She pointed to a patch of baby hairs and said, “What’s the deal with these?”

I paused, unsure how to proceed. How much to tell her.

I took a deep breath, and started in with my story.

“Settle in, Shelbs. I’m going to take you on a journey that started 9 months ago, after the birth of my sweet baby. It’s a story full of difficulty. Of injustice. Of perseverance. It’s a story of….postpartum hair loss.”

I didn’t realize I was a victim for quite some time.

My newborn was projectile vomiting, my toddler was acting out, my dog was eating couches (and/or getting his tail cut off). There was enough happening to distract me from the storm brewing on my scalp.

It wasn’t until I saw some pictures my dad posted on Facebook that I began to notice.

As I scrolled I thought, “Man I look weird. Why do I look so weird there? Is this one of those things where I have post-baby body image issues? Like, I think I look weird but really I look normal?”

But then an invisible neon arrow lit up and pointed to the evidence.

It wasn’t just my imagination.

It was…male pattern baldness.

My hair was missing. Gone.

Goodbye. Sayonara. See ya never.

How. HOW did this fact escape me?

AND – FOR THE LOVE – WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME???!

I could’ve Rogained that crap months ago but, instead, I walked around like I owned the place with a MCDONALD’S ARCH ON MY FOREHEAD.

I’m mad at all of you.

But I won’t hold it against you (for long). I’ll turn this around to help others. I’m a giver like that. (Remember that time I gave my laptop to someone along the highway? Proof. Hopefully they found my missing hair, too.)

So for you, girlfriend, also suffering from postpartum hair loss, there are stages in this journey: Denial, Anger, Bargai…just kidding.

But for real.

Stage 1: baldness.

Definitely the worst.

I mean, what. Where. How. When.

At least Beckett thought it was funny.

Stage 2: sproutlings.

Better. A little camouflage can really help a sister out.

Stage 3: toddler hairs. 

I’m not gonna lie…this is pretty bad again.

The wall of 1 inch hairs that refuse to do anything but stand at full attention is distracting, to say the least.

Stage 4: rejuvenation.

A whole new head of hair. So amazing.

Just kidding.

I’m still rocking stage 3 pretty hard.

But I’m owning it now.

Ain’t nothing gonna keep me or those awkward hairs down. (Literally. Literally nothing keeps them down.)

If you find a product that might help, grab one for me and one for the giant duckling who started it all.

Here’s to hoping we both hit the rejuvenation stage soon.