I think that you should know that the postpartum period hasn’t been all rainbows and fairy unicorn princesses.
In addition to wobbly mommy-tummy, stretch-marks and boobs that go up and down two or three cup sizes on a daily basis, I’ve had mind-crushing fatigue and vicious mood swings.
It’s taken three months for my perineum to resorb the stiches used to repair a tear and remodel the scar tissue so that normal recreational activities are somewhat enjoyable again.
I wander around covered in fresh (leakage) and curdled (spit-up) boob milk.
I’ve only just been able to readjust my skin care regimine to get rid of both dry flakes and acne at the same time.
I’m. Loosing. My. Hair.
In large gobs.
You know in the movies or on TV when someone starts chemotherapy and there is a required shot of them in the shower enjoying the hot water and steam and then they pull their hand away from their head and the camera zooms in on the clump of hair in their hand and then pans up to show the expression on their face?
Okay, I know I’m not on chemotherapy and my problems are more joys than problems and I don’t mean to belittle the courage shown by people who actually have cancer…
But my hair is coming out in large gobs. My hair, that was never thick or luxurious in any shape or form but baby fine and limp. My hair, that maybe, if you squinted, might have looked marginally thicker when I was pregnant.
I mean, I love you hormones. You allowed me to ovulate and carry a baby and produce milk for him…but did you have to tease me with this hair thing? Having my hair fall out in gobs is really screwing with my already shaky-in-the-light-of-post-partum-body-losing-my-career-for-the-moment self-image. Hormones, please give me a break before my husband makes me done rubber gloves and excavate the shower drain.
The Adequate Mother