Sneezing. Laughing. Coughing. Exercising. Cooking. Standing in the dining room with the mail in hand.
What do all of these activities have in common? They are all activities in which I’ve peed myself with no warning. I imagine there will be more examples to provide for your enjoyment in the future.
I have a history of bladder problems. UTIs all throughout my childhood, bladder surgery when I was 7, wore pull-ups until I was 9, developed the systems of a condition called Interstitial Cystitis when I was 17, bladder distention surgery a short time later, and I’ve never had the ability to exercise without leaking like a sieve. I remember discussing the leaking extensively with That Husband before we were married because I wanted to make sure he wasn’t disgusted by a wife who had a habit of shedding dribbled in undies after removing her running shoes.
I’ve reached a point where a little Poise is always necessary…
Planting one of these bad boys in my panties doesn’t help my pride any, but the assurance that I won’t be publicly humiliating myself anytime soon is worth it. If this has happened to you as well, I just want you to know that you are not alone.
I’ve been working to try to hit 3 instances of 30 minutes of exercise each week, but the farther I move into my pregnancy the more difficult that has become. Any activity above a walking pace puts excessive pressure (sometimes almost to the point of pain) on my bladder. 3 minutes after getting on the treadmill I find myself feeling like I need to hop back off again and visit the ladies room. A few weeks go I was wearing a pad stuffed in my yoga pants while at the gym , trying to hit the target amount of time on the treadmill when I realized I had to go to the bathroom. Again. I had already been twice during this one session, both times had been just a little dribble, so I figured there couldn’t be much more left inside, right? I would relax, dribble in my panties a bit, and continue on like nothing happened. Wrong. Once the stream started it didn’t stop and I found myself feeling like a naughty toddler, hoping the pad had been absorbent enough to keep my little secret safe from the other gym goers present. One of the less appealing symptoms of pregnancy I think.
At 30 weeks I stopped leaving the house at all without a pad in my underpants and a backup tucked away in my purse. I’m hoping to avoid an embarrassing scene like the one my friend Dumpling/OMG Mom experienced in a Las Vegas grocery store during her last trimester of pregnancy.
Are you wanting to avoid being a devoted Depends wearer like me? Get on those kegels. I should have been much more diligent about them from the beginning.