Let’s be real: things down south have seen better days. My va-jay-jay has definitely seen some wear and tear. What once felt like a cozy space has taken a turn for the chaotic. If you’ve ever seen that scene in Money Pit where Tom Hanks and Shelley Long peer through a gaping hole in the floor, that’s basically my pelvic floor right now. And yeah, I know that reference is a bit dated, but I’m sure you can Google it.
I thought I’d dodge the bullet when I had my daughter via C-section. You’d think that taking the “easy” route (insert sarcasm here) would spare my bits any drama, but nope! I was left swollen and sore in all the wrong places. Turns out, major abdominal surgery is no walk in the park. Once I finally managed to sneeze and poop without shedding tears, I discovered the delightful surprise of peeing a little when I laughed or sneezed. My pelvic floor was definitely on the decline.
Fast-forward to when it was time to welcome my son into the world old-school style (again, sarcasm). Let me tell you, my lady bits really took a beating. I pushed with everything I had, and after what felt like forever (and several interventions), my son made his grand entrance—blood and all—complete with a suction cup on his head. One nurse even told me it was one of the messiest deliveries she’d ever witnessed.
The first shower post-birth was a revelation. There I was, delicately washing down there as per the nurse’s advice, only to discover a strange balloon-like shape trying to make a break for it through my vagina. Concerned? You bet! But since my doctor advised against any activity down there for at least six weeks due to stitches, I brushed it aside—like you do, right?
Eventually, I was back in the doctor’s office, legs akimbo, donning a flimsy paper gown. After a thorough examination, my OB delivered the news: I have a prolapsed bladder. Yes, you read that right—my bladder is literally falling out of my vagina.
But honestly, it’s not the end of the world. It can be uncomfortable, that’s for sure. You don’t know the true meaning of awkward until you’ve tried to sit down and accidentally pinched both your vagina and bladder at the same time. My kids are accustomed to hearing me shout, “Hold on! Mommy’s about to pee her pants!” as I rush to the bathroom. I mean, I’ve done my share of Kegels, but it still feels like a game of pelvic muscle roulette. Thankfully, it doesn’t impact my sex life, so I’m managing just fine.
In fact, having a prolapsed bladder has its perks. For one, when people say, “Leggings aren’t pants,” I’m quick to retort, “They sure are if your bladder is trying to escape!” From my belly button down, everything feels a bit like toothpaste being squeezed from the middle of the tube. While skinny jeans are cute, they don’t do me any favors. A real waistband feels like a vice, pushing everything into a pressure cooker situation, so I stick to leggings.
Sometimes, I just need my space. My kids love to snuggle, but some days, I can’t handle the constant touching. If my toddler is on my lap, my five-year-old will drape herself over me, and it becomes a chaotic game of human Tetris. So, I’ve started saying, “Mommy has a boo-boo!” as an excuse to take a breather. I’m not lying—my pelvic floor is squishy, and little feet can lead to very uncomfortable moments.
And here’s the kicker: I keep a guilt trip card tucked in my leggings pocket for those moments when family photos are on the horizon. When the kids inevitably decide their outfits are a disaster, I’ll whip out that card and remind them, “My bladder hasn’t been in the right place for years, and I’m a grown woman who’s had my fair share of public accidents—all for you. Now put on that perfectly coordinated outfit and smile like you mean it!”
Living with a prolapsed bladder certainly keeps life interesting. I’m getting the hang of using a menstrual cup and stealthily changing my underwear without anyone noticing. I can’t wait for the day when a skilled surgeon can fix my situation, but until then, it’s all about those Kegels!
If you’re navigating similar waters, consider checking out resources like IVF Babble, which offers excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination. Plus, for those looking into at-home insemination, Make A Mom provides a fantastic option, including their re-usable kits and a step-by-step guide on how it works. And for those seeking a reliable insemination kit, the intracervical insemination syringe kit is a great resource.
In summary, living with a prolapsed bladder is definitely no walk in the park, but I’m making it work, one Kegel at a time.
Leave a Reply