In a shocking twist during my annual check-up, my trusted OB/GYN—my go-to for all things feminine—revealed something that made my heart sink: she could actually see my bladder. Yes, you read that correctly.
“What?” I exclaimed, snapping upright, my moment of calm quickly vanishing and replaced by the stark reminder that turning forty—and all its associated joys—was looming. (Okay, I already hit the big 4-0, but let’s pretend I’m still in my thirties for the sake of this piece.)
“Definitely stage 2 prolapse,” she confirmed. “Want to take a look?”
“Absolutely not!” I shot back. Why would I want to witness the evidence of my body’s decline? “But what does this mean?”
“Are you finding yourself rushing to the bathroom frequently or straining?” she inquired.
“Hmm.” I hadn’t really thought about it much. I had noticed waking up every night and not making it through long car rides—sometimes even short ones. But I figured it was just a temporary phase, like the linea negra on my belly or the stubborn baby weight I was losing at a snail’s pace. “Is this a concern?”
“It’s not great at your age,” she said. “But don’t worry; you can always get it surgically lifted back into place.”
Wait, what? A lift? Wasn’t that the same procedure my mother-in-law had last year? How did I get to this point so quickly? Sensing my hesitation, she suggested pelvic floor therapy as an alternative.
“It’ll help strengthen the muscles,” she assured me. As she spoke, I felt a familiar urge to pee, but I ignored it. Why confront reality when denial is so much easier?
Parenthood had already taken a toll on me—my waistline (which was never tiny, but let’s pretend), my manicured nails, my ability to wear non-elastic pants, and maybe even my perky bosom (which was never really perky, either). I had accepted all those losses for the sake of my adorable kids. But my bladder? This was too much. I had always appreciated it—how well it could hold up on transatlantic flights and how quickly it emptied. I’d even received compliments about my swift bathroom visits.
And now, it felt like I was watching it slip away, a clear sign that I was entering middle age. I wasn’t ready to accept this new reality. I resolved to fix the damage caused by my three pregnancies to my loyal bladder, which had been a faithful companion for so many years. So, after devouring half a box of Oreos, I signed up for pelvic floor therapy.
Upon entering the facility, I was greeted by an atmosphere of calm—lavender-scented air and a waterfall cascading behind the receptionist. She whispered as she handed me paperwork, urging me to take my time. The pamphlet promised a journey of exercises designed to strengthen my pelvic floor muscles, allowing me to run without having to stop and pee (and I’m not talking about basketball).
After returning the forms, a petite woman named Ms. Lee appeared to escort me. She seemed to float in her Skechers, chatting away as we walked—which made me a bit uneasy.
“So, I’m Ms. Lee! Are you excited to begin?” she asked.
“Well, that depends, Ms. Lee. Depends,” I replied, trying to make a joke that fell flat. She proceeded to ask about my concerns, and when I mentioned my diagnosis, she asked, “Are you experiencing incontinence?”
“Like my grandma?” I shot back, feeling embarrassed. The term felt shameful, as if I had done something wrong. Perhaps having a third child was indeed the tipping point for my bladder.
“It’s okay to admit it,” she reassured me.
I could have admitted that I often wet myself and woke up frequently at night, but it felt too private, too shameful to say out loud.
“Well, let me explain pelvic floor therapy,” she began. “We aim to strengthen the muscles that support your bladder.” She then pulled out a rubber chicken. “Over time and after childbirth, these muscles weaken, and gravity takes its toll.” She squeezed the chicken until a pouch appeared at the bottom. “That’s what’s happening to your bladder.”
She guided me through some exercises, instructing me to lie on my back with my knees bent. “Tilt your pelvis and squeeze those muscles. Inhale, raise your pelvis, squeeze for five seconds while exhaling, then release.”
“Got it,” I lied, trying to keep up with the instructions.
“Now, imagine your vagina is a straw trying to suck up a milkshake,” she said, resting her tiny hand on my arm.
I’ve pretended my vagina was many things, but never a straw. I tried my best to suck, but the pressure was overwhelming—my pelvic floor felt like it was experiencing performance anxiety. Defeat washed over me, and I wanted to give up. Did I really need this?
After the session, I called my husband for support. “The lesson is always don’t have kids,” he replied. “How serious could this really be?” It was clear he couldn’t relate, his bladder still functioning perfectly. But it was a big deal. I’m 40 and wake up at least once, sometimes twice, at night to pee. I can only run around my cul-de-sac because I need to stop and pee within ten minutes. I know every gas station within a ten-mile radius of my home.
“I’m incontinent, and it’s impacting my quality of life,” I confessed, finally proud to admit the truth. “Can I hang up now?” he asked, seemingly unaffected. “Whatever,” I said, and treated myself to the other half of the Oreos. I took a deep breath and thought, “I can do this: Tilt. Inhale. Raise. Squeeze. Release.” Though I’ve had to switch from milkshakes to ice cream cones.
For more insights into navigating parenthood and related topics, check out this post and explore this resource for expert guidance on home insemination. If you’re looking for comprehensive information, check out this Wikipedia article on in vitro fertilization.
Summary
Parenthood can bring unexpected challenges, including health issues like bladder prolapse, which women often face after childbirth. This humorous account details one woman’s journey to address her bladder concerns through pelvic floor therapy, while also reflecting on the sacrifices made during motherhood. The narrative emphasizes the importance of addressing health issues openly and seeking help when needed.
Search queries related to the topic:
- What are the signs of bladder prolapse?
- How can pelvic floor therapy help?
- What to expect during pelvic floor therapy sessions?
- Incontinence after childbirth: What to know
- How to strengthen your pelvic floor muscles?
SEO Metadata
Keyphrase: bladder prolapse and pelvic floor therapy
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]