“I despise myself,” I wrote in a moment of vulnerability. “For the past two weeks, my hair has been my only focus. It’s consuming me. Much like my hair loss, I feel overwhelmed by self-pity. I feel like a monster to my children. Sleep eludes me. I’ve lost my appetite. Hours slip by as I stand before the mirror, fixated on my bald patches—obsessing over what went wrong, what I could have done differently. I want to break free from this cycle of despair, yet I feel trapped in an all-consuming force. Control over my thoughts and feelings seems impossible, and I fear this misery will never fade.”
My struggle with hair loss began the summer following the first birthday of my second child. As a busy working mom, I hadn’t even noticed the changes until one morning in June, while straightening my hair, I caught a glimpse of a bald spot forming on the crown of my head. A wave of shock washed over me, and I felt faint.
They say postpartum hair loss is gradual and that you won’t lose all your hair, but no one mentions bald spots. Panic set in as I frantically searched for answers—what vitamins was I lacking? Were my iron levels low? Did I have a thyroid issue?
I visited a dermatologist who quickly diagnosed me with “alopecia areata.” He was baffled by the cause and offered steroid injections along with a recommendation for Rogaine, advising me to return in four weeks. I was heartbroken. I had done enough online research to learn that alopecia areata is an autoimmune condition that can be lifelong. I read horror stories of people who never regained their hair or lost it all. Why was this happening to me?
Although I had never boasted thick hair, I had never faced hair loss like this before. After my first daughter, I experienced a slight shedding, but nothing like this. The pregnancy-induced thickness of my hair had lingered until I weaned my children.
This new reality felt like a nightmare. I found myself yearning for the thin hair I used to complain about. The shedding continued, not just in my bald spots but all over, for months on end. I sought help from another dermatologist who was more compassionate. She prescribed topical steroids and additional injections, assuring me that my hair would eventually grow back. While still without answers, her support gave me a glimmer of hope.
After weaning my second baby—a process filled with tears—I began using Rogaine. I donned a hat almost every day that summer, relying heavily on French braids to conceal my increasingly visible bald spots. By the end of the season, I had three spots, the largest resembling a golf ball. I felt too ashamed to reveal my condition to anyone aside from my close family, despite having a strong support network with my mother, mother-in-law, and sisters-in-law.
That summer was challenging. However, by fall, I noticed small tufts of regrowth, and my shedding seemed to lessen. But come winter, I faced another wave of shedding, this time affecting my entire scalp.
The journey was devastating, leading me deeper into depression, anxiety, and self-loathing. “Hair loss is demoralizing,” a friend once texted me. Many people don’t grasp just how debilitating it can be. “It’s just hair,” they say. “It will grow back.” But what if it doesn’t? That thought lingers at the back of my mind.
Throughout this experience, I’m learning to adapt to my reality. I remind myself daily that my two little girls care little about my hair. They will love their mom not because of her hair, but for her courage in not letting it define her.
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In summary, navigating hair loss is an emotional journey filled with challenges, self-discovery, and resilience. It’s a reminder that our worth is not tied to our appearance but to our strength and character.