A Surprisingly Sane Blog

Alrighty, so… it’s been about a month since I started physical therapy for my va-jay-jay, and I know you’re all dying to hear about what’s been going on with that.

Admit it.  You know you do.

Vaginas are one of those things that are rarely spoken about candidly.  Even less spoken about is the post-vaginal birth va-jay-jay.

It’s like a dirty little secret or something.  No one wants to admit that childbirth completely reorganizes a woman’s most intimate area.

Well, I’m here to break that stereotype because, as you know, I’m not afraid to admit the unspeakable.

And in case you’ve missed the previous posts about my “woe is me” vagina stories, you can read about them here and here and here.

It’s fascinating to me to realize that when I read those in consecutive order, the progression from truly insane postpartum depression to a-little-more-with-it is incredibly clear.  That first entry is off the hook nuts.  The last one… not so crazy.

But once again, that’s not the point, so I’ll get to it.

Since that first vagina entry, where my self-proclaimed hate towards my vagina made it sound like the V was comparable to the San Andreas Fault, complete with the gaping hole towards the dark abyss of hell and scar lines stretching outward from my nether-region, I have grown a new sense of compassion toward my body.

I was certain at the time that I wrote that entry that I was completely broken, disgusting, and an abomination to the beautiful female genitalia.  My vagina was nothing but a sickening shadow of a barely fuckable hole.  Something that couldn’t even seem to bring my husband pleasure.

That was the pre-Prozac Tamra talking.

I was wrong.

My vagina most certainly is far from broken, and the physical therapy has helped me realize that.

Discovering that I have rectocele, cystocele, and uterine prolapse was a shocking and horrible discovery.  Normal functions like peeing and pooping were difficult for me, and sex just felt wrong.

Part of what makes my depression so severe is that, when left untreated, I struggle with a bit of obsessive-compulsive behavior, particularly related to thoughts.  In my paranoid and near-psychotic state, I had built the the prolapse and sexual problems into a mountain of unconquerable feats.

In my mind, my vagina had been through World War III, nuked, expoded, and guts escaping my body.

I felt like a pathetic excuse of a women.

After more than a month of Prozac, mental health therapy, marriage counseling, and physical therapy, I can finally admit that my fears, while not unwarranted, were blown completely out of proportion because of my mental illnesses.

My vagina is doing very well, and I no longer hate it.

And sex, which was a nightmare before, is officially better than I ever imagined it could be.

A huge part of the reason has to do with the physical therapy.  Dina, my therapist (and no, that’s not her real name), is amazing.  She has assured me that my prolapse is not at all uncommon and has taught me simple lifestyle changes to help strengthen my pelvic floor and make using the toilet much easier.  Posture, core awareness, holding urine for a certain amount of time to retrain my bladder, etc… has made a huge difference.

In addition, I do several different kinds of Kegel exercises a day while isolating different muscles and focusing on relaxation in between muscle contractions.  Learning how to relax my PC muscles was kind of a struggle.  I never realized how much tension I hold in that part of my body until she hooked me up to a biofeedback device.

The majority of what goes on during my 1-hour appointments with Dina involves a not-so-glamorous kind of soft tissue massage.  The goal being primarily to soften the scar tissue left all the way up my vaginal wall from my first birth, and to help relax the muscles up in the canal.

I have a lot of pain from all this tension and scar tissue.  I never even realized how tender it all was until I started this therapy.

Luckily, though, all of this has been so therapeutic for me in more ways than I imagined.  Dina has helped me regain confidence in my pelvic area, and I now truly believe her when she tells me I am not “broken” down there, as I originally believed.

I know you really want me to answer the unspoken question, so I’ll do it:  Does childbirth turn your vagina into a loose canon?

I’ll answer it, completely candidly.

After I gave birth the second time, my answer was absolutely.  I was wrong.  Yes, vaginal birth changes your vagina.  Yes, it is a little looser after pushing a little alien out of a very small hole.  Yes, it sucks to realize that.

But, that is not a bad thing.  And I really want to stress this.  It’s actually a GOOD thing, believe it or not.

While a post-baby vagina is not as tight as a pre-birth one, it is still a nice, snug fit.  However, the blood flow is a lot better, and sex is more enjoyable as a result.  For me, anyway, and I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one.  Everything down there feels softer in a good way, and it really is better for my husband as well.

You might be wondering why I am willing to be so open about the most intimate details of my life on the internet, where pretty much anyone and everyone has access to this potentially embarrassing “private” information.

It’s because I don’t want women to ever go through the mental pain of thinking they are broken or ruined after giving birth like I did.  I don’t want any woman to feel like less of a human being because her insides are prolapsing out of her vagina, or think sex is ruined because she no longer feels virgin-tight.

No woman I have ever met has willingly admitted to any of this.  Why is it a big damn secret?  It is nothing to be ashamed of, it is something to be celebrated.  Yes, your body goes through hell with pregnancy and giving birth, but why is this a bad thing?  We should feel empowered, more beautiful than before.

I wish every woman had access to an incredible physical therapist after giving birth, but more than this, I wish that what happens to your body after having a baby wasn’t a damn unspoken secret.

Speak up, ladies.  I’m not alone in my battle, and neither are you.  But how are we going to know that unless we are willing to be open about it?

Current Mood: Cool