Emily Johnson Facebook ad: “What Nobody Told Me About My Pregnancy Hair”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

1272928981653429

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network, Messenger and Threads

Relaunches

0

Niche

Hair Care

How we count

Ad text

The rubber duck is my daughter's. The hair is mine... Every morning. Same shower. Same clump. Same knot in my stomach when I look down. But it wasn't always like this. During my first pregnancy, my hair was incredible. I'm not exaggerating. I have always had fine, thin, forgettable hair. The kind that falls flat by noon no matter what you do to it. The kind where you can see scalp if the light hits wrong. Then I got pregnant. And somewhere around month four, something changed. My hair got thick. Not just a little thicker. Thick. Like a different person's hair had been transplanted onto my head. Volume I'd never had. Shine I didn't know my hair was capable of. I could feel the weight of it when I turned my head. People noticed. "Your hair looks amazing." "Pregnancy looks so good on you." "What are you using? Whatever it is, I need it." I wasn't using anything. I was just pregnant. And for the first time in my life, I loved my hair. I took photos of it. I know that sounds ridiculous. But I took photos of my own hair because I genuinely couldn't believe it was mine. I wore it down every day. I stopped straightening it because it didn't need it. I stopped obsessing over volume products and root lifters and dry shampoo because my hair was just... doing the thing I'd always wanted it to do. I thought pregnancy had unlocked something. Like my body had finally figured out how to grow hair properly and this was my new normal. It wasn't my new normal. It was a loan. And after delivery, the bill came due. Month three postpartum, the shedding started. I noticed it in the shower first. More hair than usual in my hands when I rinsed out conditioner. I told myself it was normal. Everyone says you shed a little after baby. Then it got worse. Clumps. Actual clumps. I'd run my fingers through my hair and come away with what looked like a small animal. My shower drain clogged every three days. My husband stopped commenting on it because the first time he saw the drain he looked physically uncomfortable. My ponytail went from three wraps to five on the same hair tie. Then the ponytail started looking sad. Thin. Like a little girl's ponytail on a grown woman's head. My temples started showing scalp. My part line widened until I could see skin through it under overhead lighting. All that beautiful pregnancy hair was leaving. And it was taking more with it than what it brought. By month five, I didn't just have less hair than during pregnancy. I had less hair than before pregnancy. I looked worse than my starting point. Like my body had borrowed hair for nine months and then charged interest on the way out. I panicked. I bought biotin. I kept taking my prenatal. I added collagen to my coffee. I tried rosemary oil twice a week. I spent $88 on Nutrafol Postpartum because a woman in my Facebook mom group said it saved her hair. None of it did anything. The shedding continued. The thinning continued. The clumps in the drain continued. I went to my OB. She said: "It's normal. It'll grow back. Give it six to twelve months." I went to my mom. She said: "Same thing happened to me with all three of you kids. It comes back." I went to Reddit. They said: "Just wait it out. Nothing you can do." So I waited. Eight months. The shedding slowed eventually. Some baby hairs grew in. But my hair never came back to what it was before pregnancy. Not even close. It stayed thin. Flat. Fragile. I looked at photos of myself pregnant and they made me sad because I knew I'd never have that hair again. Then I got pregnant with my second baby. And I was terrified. Not of labor. Not of sleepless nights. Not of having two kids under three. I was terrified of the hair loss. I know how that sounds. I know a grown woman shouldn't dread pregnancy because of her hair. But I remember reading a comment on Reddit from a mom who said: "It wasn't pregnancy or birth or newborn tiredness that would put me off another baby. It was the hair loss." I felt that in my bones. Because I watched my hair fall out for eight months the first time. I watched it thin and recede and become something I didn't recognize. And the idea of going through that again, starting from an even worse baseline this time, made me feel sick. But I wanted another baby. So I got pregnant again. And just like the first time, my hair got thick and beautiful and I knew the whole time it wasn't real. This time I didn't take photos. This time I didn't fall for it. I knew what was coming. So this time, instead of waiting for the shedding to start and then scrambling to react, I decided to actually understand what was happening. Not "what can I take" but "why does this happen in the first place." And what I found made me furious. Because it's so simple. And nobody told me any of it the first time. Here's what's actually happening. When you're pregnant, estrogen is sky high. It keeps your follicles locked in growth phase. That's the thick, beautiful hair everyone compliments. It's not your hair getting better. It's estrogen holding onto hair that would normally shed. Then you deliver. Estrogen crashes. Drops up to 8x in a matter of days. And every single follicle that estrogen was holding onto suddenly loses the signal. They don't just let go of the extra hair. They go into shutdown. Full stop. Dormant. They stop producing entirely. The medical term is telogen effluvium. Your follicles aren't dead. They're not damaged. They didn't "fall out" because your body is broken. They went to sleep because the signal that was keeping them awake disappeared. And here's the part that made me want to throw my phone across the room. Every supplement I'd taken during my first postpartum was nutrition. Biotin. Collagen. Prenatals. Nutrafol. All of them are building materials for hair. But my follicles weren't hungry. They were asleep. I was making payments on a debt with the wrong currency. My follicles didn't need more raw materials. They needed a wake up call. I was sending groceries when they needed an alarm clock. All those months of supplements. All that money. I was delivering building materials to a construction site where the crew had gone home. The lumber was fine. Nobody was there to use it. My follicles needed a signal. Something that tells them: the crisis is over. Start producing again. Biotin can't do that. Collagen can't do that. No supplement swallowed in a pill and processed through your digestive system can do that. That's not what they're designed for. The one pharmaceutical that CAN send that signal is minoxidil. And minoxidil isn't safe while breastfeeding. There's a documented case of a baby developing abnormal hair growth because it transferred through breast milk. So with my first baby, I was stuck. The supplements couldn't wake up my follicles. The one thing that could was dangerous for my baby. And everyone's advice was "just wait." I wasn't going to do that again with my second. That's when I found out about growth factor peptides. Topical peptides that mimic the wake up signal your body is supposed to send after the hormone crash stabilizes. They go directly to the follicle at the scalp level. They don't enter your bloodstream. The molecules are too large to pass through the skin into systemic circulation. I verified this myself. I found the research on the 500 Dalton rule. Anything above 500 Daltons in molecular weight can't penetrate deep enough to reach the bloodstream. I looked up the molecular weights of the peptides used in follicle signaling serums. All above the threshold. They physically cannot reach your breast milk. They stay at the scalp. They reach the follicle. That's it. Safe while breastfeeding. I called my OB's office to confirm. The nurse I spoke to said she'd seen the research and the mechanism made sense. Topical application, large molecular weight, no systemic absorption. She said she'd feel comfortable recommending it to breastfeeding patients. I found Maven at 36 weeks pregnant with my second baby. What stopped me was one line on their page: "Designed specifically for postpartum hair shedding. 100% topical. Breastfeeding safe." That was the first time I'd seen any hair product actually acknowledge that breastfeeding moms need something designed for their situation. Not a disclaimer. Not a "consult your doctor" asterisk. Front and center. I ordered the three month supply before my due date. I started using it at two weeks postpartum. Before the shedding even began. Not because I'm impulsive. Because I went through eight months of hell the first time and I wasn't going to sit around waiting for it to happen again when I finally understood the mechanism. A few drops on my scalp every morning. Massage for a minute. Done. Here's what happened with baby number two. Shedding started month three. I expected it. But it was different this time. Less volume. Fewer clumps. The drain looked like a normal drain, not a crime scene. By month four, where my first baby's shedding had been peaking, my second baby's shedding was already slowing down. Month five with my first I was pulling clumps out of the drain every morning. Month five with my second my drain looked normal. I'm seven months postpartum now. I have baby hairs at my temples that are already two inches long. With my first baby, I didn't see temple regrowth until month twelve. My ponytail is at four wraps. With my first baby at seven months, it was barely holding at five. My part line is narrow. My hair has volume. Not pregnancy volume. But real, normal, my-hair-before-everything volume. My sister came over last week and said, "Your hair looks better after this baby than it did after your first." She didn't know about Maven. She didn't know I was doing anything differently. She just noticed. I told her everything. The mechanism. The peptide signaling. The difference between nutrition and a wake up signal. She's pregnant with her first baby right now. She ordered Maven that night. And here's what I want to be clear about. Maven didn't prevent the shedding entirely. I still shed. Postpartum shedding is a hormonal event. You can't stop estrogen from crashing. You can't keep your follicles in growth phase forever. But there is a difference between follicles that go dormant and get no signal to come back, and follicles that go dormant and immediately start receiving a wake up call. The first time, my follicles went to sleep and nobody knocked on the door for eight months. The second time, Maven started knocking the day I came home from the hospital. Same body. Same hormones. Same pregnancy. Different outcome. Because this time I wasn't feeding a sleeping follicle. I was waking it up. If you're pregnant right now and you've heard the horror stories about postpartum hair loss, or if you're postpartum and watching the shedding start and dreading what comes next, or if you went through it with your first baby and you're terrified of going through it again... You don't have to just wait. Your follicles aren't going to die. They're going to go dormant. That's biology. That's what happens after the estrogen crash. But dormant doesn't mean helpless. It means they're waiting for a signal. Maven sends that signal. Topically. Without entering your bloodstream. Without touching your breast milk. 100 day money back guarantee. The best hair of your life during pregnancy wasn't magic. It was estrogen keeping your follicles awake. You can't get the estrogen back. But you can send the signal yourself. Nobody told me that with my first baby. I'm telling you now.

Where the ad sends people

mavenlabs.store

What Nobody Told Me About My Pregnancy Hair 👆

The Peptide Hair Serum is a powerful blend of bioactive compounds, including five peptides and natural botanical extracts, designed to provide superior cosmetic care for your hair. Peptides like sh-Polypeptide-1 and sh-Oligopeptide-10 help support the appearance of thicker, more voluminous hair, whi...