Healthy Babies ARE NOT All That Matters!

Most people who read this blog know that I developed Intrahepatic Cholestasis of Pregnancy (ICP or sometimes just called CP) near the end of my last pregnancy.  That diagnosis, along with the bleeding I experienced throughout each trimester, effectively made it my last pregnancy as my husband & I are not willing to experience another roller coaster ride of a pregnancy.  Besides, we're old and it was time to stop cheering for Team Babyworks.

I mention ICP because early delivery is the standard practice with those pregnancies.  That is, delivery no later than 38-weeks.  The reason is that fetal outcomes are not as favorable with longer gestation.  That's a very delicate way of saying the one thing that strikes fear in the heart of every single pregnant mother:  longer gestation in an ICP pregnancy is linked to increased chance of stillbirth.

There is a broad swing in what is considered a full-term pregnancy - anything between 38- and 42-weeks.  Generally speaking, baby is better off baking in your uterine oven as long as possible.  That means that delivery (via induction or, as is a fairly common outcome for induction, a c-section) that is scheduled just for the sake of not being pregnant anymore, to choose your baby's birthday, or because your OB is going on vacation near your actual estimated due date are generally agreed upon to not be good reasons to evict your fetal stowaway.

Regardless of the reasons why your baby is born early, you might second guess your decision to deliver so soon.  You may well do this if your baby is perfectly healthy and it's nearly guaranteed that you will if your baby does not fit your mental picture of healthy perfection.  Mother's Guilt is strong, whether it's warranted or not.  Frankly, it seems to me that the ones who have the least to feel guilty about are the ones who agonize the worst.

Witnessing a loved one or a fellow mother beat herself up emotionally over decisions that can't be undone is hard.  Well-meaning people may say things like, "Well, your baby is healthy and that's all that matters."  Or, "Baby was born and his here now and that's all that matters." 

These lines, and those like them, have always bothered me.  I don't think most people are trying to be hurtful when they say things like this, but it is hurtful.  These statements are dismissive and demeaning.  These statements completely invalidate the mother's feelings.  It's like saying that not only is she wrong for feeling uneasy about her decisions, but it's also saying she's wrong for having the feelings in the first place because having the baby here now is all that matters. 

I struggled with years to make peace with my first son's c-section.  My feelings of inadequacy and outright maternal fraud were surprising to me, but they were very real and very painful.  My baby was healthy and I still ached over making the wrong choice.  Was it the wrong choice?  I don't know, but it's the one I made.  I can't undo it.  It took years, but I no longer feel an intense longing when I think of his birth.  I made the best decision I could with the information I had.  Would I make the same choice today?  It doesn't matter, but I would.

Hearing nearly everyone I know and love tell me that, "You're okay and he's okay so it all worked out and that's all that matters," did not help me.  Being told that I'm just as much a mother as any other mother didn't help.  Listening to one c-section story after another didn't make mine feel any more "normal."  Time was probably the greatest source of healing.  Well, that's not entirely true.  It was time and having an experience that made my body feel even more broken.  Having my last baby (high-risk pregnancy, advanced maternal age, early delivery and all), restored me in more ways than I could have possibly imagined.

Healthy babies are the ultimate goal, but they are not all that matters.  Healthy mother matters too. . .physically, emotionally, and mentally.  If she's wounded in any of those areas, it matters - and don't try to tell her otherwise.

Have you struggled to make peace with your birthing experience?  What helped?  What didn't?  Please share in the comments if you'd like and accept a big ol' virtual hug from me.  I know it's hard and I'm sorry that you're struggling.  {{{hug}}}

My Vagina Hates Me

Okay, that title isn't exactly true.  My vagina is freaking wonderful and I love it.  My vulva is nice so no complaints there.  I have a hate-hate relationship with my cervix, but I don't usually have to monkey around with the gatekeeper of my innermost ladyparts so we have an unspoken understanding that it won't mess with me if I don't mess with it.  But my uterus. . .oh, man, I swear that my uterus actively plots against me.

As if on cue, some wonderfully fantastic cue, I suddenly stopped bleeding four weeks after having the Mirena IUD inserted.  Four friggin' weeks of bleeding was finally over!  Yee-haw!  I was ecstatic.  Not surprisingly, I stopped feeling like I was slowly bleeding to death and felt energized.  My mood improved almost overnight and all was looking right in my world.

Then I started spotting.  Then I stopped the very next day.  Then I started again the day after that.  Oh, yes, you're reading this right.  I'm in a daily loop of on-again, off-again spotting.  Whoop-de-freaking-do!

If I weren't gripped by vomit-inducing fear at the thought of having my cervix meet with any implements or unnatural pressure any time soon, I'm pretty sure that I would demand to have this IUD removed.  I am trying to keep in mind that my doctor said it's not uncommon for irregular bleeding to potentially persist for a couple of months after having an IUD inserted, but this is really getting old.  The upside is that I would have had two periods by now and they would have no doubt included a couple of days of the ridiculous bleeding/gushing/flooding that prompted me to seek this option in the first place so it's nice that I've been spared that experience.  Of course, I'm just having "normal" bleeding and/or spotting nearly non-stop instead so I'm not sure that I'm exactly better off at this point.

Stay turned for the next installment of As the Womb Turns. . .

I Think My Period is the Kobayashi Maru

Does the title of this make sense to you?  Congratulations, you're a dork!  Just like me.

For those of you who spent your youth doing things like getting laid and making friends, the Kobayashi Maru is a test at Starfleet academy.  It is unbeatable unless you change the rules of the test.  That is, the only way to beat it is to cheat it.  In case you're wondering, I just felt any measure of coolness that I might have totally disappear by writing this paragraph.

Enough with the Star Trek nerdiness, on to my favorite topic!

So I had the Mirena IUD inserted two weeks ago.  I've detailed my awful experience with insertion and in the immediate aftermath.   I've also detailed some welcome side effects.  All that is very good and interesting, but at the moment I'm concerned that I have been bleeding nearly every single day for two weeks.  I had three days of sweet freedom - three glorious days!  Once I started spotting again, the bleeding resumed in short order.

At this point I'm starting to feel like my period is the Kobayashi Maru.  It can't be beat!  I have a message in with my doctor because I'm unsure if this is normal, but it's definitely not typical for me. 

IUD users - write anonymously if you'd like, but do chime in:  I know some of you have indicated a total absence of menses, but did you bleed after insertion?  If so, how long?

Everybody Poops. . .Sometimes

My husband and I were talking about my blog yesterday and I think that it's read by so many (even if not officially "liked" or "followed") because I don't shy away from talking about topics that people may want to know about though they are too embarrassed to ask questions about.  That said, I feel very awkward writing this blog post and that's strange since I've detailed some terrifically disgusting things in this blog.  Dearest readers. . .brace yourselves. . .I'm getting scatological tonight.

My strange confession is that I didn't poop for days on end since having the Mirena IUD inserted early this week.  Five days, to be exact.  It's not that I couldn't, but more that I wouldn't. 

I'm not usually a poop-machine or anything, but I can usually count on my colon to deliver the goods every other day or so.  More than four days without dropping a deuce is pretty unusual for me.  I finally realized early today that I'm going to have to poop at some point.  And that terrified me.

Why was I so spazzy about relaxing my sphincter?  Well, I guess because I was afraid that the IUD would somehow fall out and then I'd have gone through all the pain of insertion for absolutely nothing.  Worse is that I figured that I wouldn't even know that it fell out since I'm not accustomed to sifting through my crap for tiny contraceptives.

I know some of you smartasses are thinking, "Where in the world did her doctor put her IUD???"  Relax, wiseguys, it's firmly ensconced in my uterus.  But I still feel that I had valid fears that were logical so hear me out.

I was concerned because a little pushing is sometimes necessary to get the poop out.  Pushing is also required to get a baby out.  Babies are in the uterus, an IUD is in the uterus.  I gather that pushing a baby out is kinda like the similar to pushing out poop.  If a turd were like ten times bigger.  Except the whole thing about one being a human being coming out of your vagina and the other being biological waste coming out of your butthole, it made perfect sense to me that I should be concerned.

I probably wouldn't have pooped today, but my body said, "Enough of this crap!"  Have you ever pooped while kinda-sorta trying to hold it back in?  Yeah, I have now and I can assure you that it doesn't work.  There's just no stopping a freight train. . .certainly no stopping a freight train of poop!

Did I poop out my IUD?  I don't think so. . .considering the pain that I felt while inserting it (I knew I never should have done those Cervix of Steel workout videos!), I'm fairly certain that I'd have felt immediate pain if something was poking around my os.  That's a fancy name for the opening of the cervix.  And here I'll bet you thought you couldn't possibly learn anything in this post! 

Remember kids, everybody poops.  Not everybody worries needlessly about pooping out their IUD.  That's my special neurosis.

The Big O

I've had the Mirena IUD since Tuesday afternoon.  It sucked epic levels of ass for the first 36-hours and then the cramping started easing up quite a bit.  Tylenol helped a lot and having help with my kids was necessary so I'm very thankful to the friends & family who stepped up to help me out while I was busy crying about my snatch.

My period abruptly ended late Friday morning.  This was entirely unexpected as I can't recall the last time I had such a short period.  I was like, "Uh-uh, I know this game," and I wore a liner all day today because I fully expected another downpour of blood because that's what my body normally deals me.  It never happened so :::thumbsup::: to a super-short period.  I'm hopeful that it's a sign of things to come. 

Speaking of coming. . .

I woke up having an orgasm today!!! 

What's that, you say?  I woke up having an orgasm today!!  I don't customarily have spontaneous Os and I've only had what can only be called wet dreams in pregnancy so I can't help but wonder if the IUD is to blame.  Or, more accurately, to thank. 

I have often suspected that the hormones of pregnancy are why my libido spikes to the stratosphere while I'm PG and this teenaged boy sex drive yields the occasional orgasmic wake up call.  Pregnancy orgasms are the best anyway - something about the uterus being so much larger, I suppose - and getting one without even trying is like a special gift.  If having the best wake up call ever is a side effect of having the IUD, I'm pretty sure that I will insist on having one in my uterus until the day I die. 

Doctor:  But, Mrs. My-Name-Here, you're 75-years old and went through menopause decades ago.  There is no reason why you need an IUD.
Me:  Oh, yes, there is!!

Tenaculum - Useful Instrument or Torture Device?

It has been just shy of one year since I touched my blog.  Plenty of interesting, exciting, heartwarming, and heartbreaking things have happened in that year.  I mentally began outlining at least two dozen blog posts in this last year, but nothing could prompt me to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) until now. 

What is so important to write down for the readership - all that might be left after a one-year absence?!  Is it the Benghazi assassinations, the exploitation of Sandy Hook to push a political agenda, or the hot mess and herp-a-derp that was my Facebook feed during the entire election season?  Is it the milestones reached by my sweet baby and my preschooler?  Is it a helpful post detailing normal behavior of a breastfed newborn, infant, and toddler?  Is it a PSA about how to properly adjust side-mirrors on a vehicle?  What could possibly awake my writing spirit from such a deep slumber?  My vagina, of course!

Are you new here?  If so, consider this a fair warning:  I get very graphic and descriptive and this is a post about menstruation and female genitalia.  That sounds really nice, but it's too polite and some of you might not understand. . .I'm going to talk about how it feels to have a faucet of blood running from between your legs and what I'm trying in order to not be held hostage by my bleeding snatch for two days out of every twenty.

Anyone left?  Let's proceed!

***

Though I am still breastfeeding my 13-month old, my period resumed in mid-September.  I could tell it was coming because I had some weird cramping and backaches for a couple of weeks leading up to it.  It was, predictably, quite heavy and I chalked it up to my uterus making up for lost time. 

By the new year, I had experienced seven periods.  I can handle heavy and, since having 20- to 22-day cycles (or shorter!) for so long, I can also handle frequency.  It's the volume that I can't handle. 

How heavy is heavy?  So heavy that I have to use pads I'd purchased to be used immediately postpartum, but never needed since the lochia wasn't nearly that bad.  So heavy that I couldn't get my menstrual cup (it was the Diva, though I bought a Keeper to try and couldn't bring myself to deal with it) to actually form a seal.  So heavy that I would experience a laundry problem no matter what I was using to try to manage my menses.  So heavy that I was unable to leave my house and unable to do more than sit on the toilet or lie down during those days.  So heavy that I would soak a pad (couldn't use tampons) within minutes.  Blood would gush out with such force that it made me feel weak when it happened.

I finally had enough when I realized that I was planning my entire life around my period and when I figured I'd be experiencing menstrual flooding.  The OB/Gyn nurse I spoke with was alarmed and asked why I had never gone to the ER.  Call me silly, but it seems a bit ridiculous to show up to the ER and announce that you're there because you're bleeding to death. . .out of your vadge.  She disagreed and said that losing that volume of blood in such a short period (hah!) could be dangerous and that they'd want to evaluate me the next time it happened.  I agreed to go to the ER the next time, but I ended up getting my next period ten days late.  This is distressing enough, but it was even more distressing that my period started two hours before my gynecologist appointment.  Crap! 

As it turns out, that actually wasn't such a bad thing.  Yes, I know, no one wants to be in stirrups when they are bleeding.  Heck, I don't want to be in stirrups period! 

My gynecologist agreed that it was utter bullshit that I was being held hostage by my menstrual cycle.  I just love my doctor and respect that he's not an arrogant douche, but I was still expecting to have to argue my case that this period was not normal and that living like this wasn't acceptable.  I almost wanted to cry when he empathized and said that it sounds awful and that he was glad I was seeking help.

Of the options presented, inserting a hormone-infused IUD (Mirena) was the least invasive so that's what I decided to try first.  Friends and family are aware that my husband had a vasectomy less than a month ago.  And I just had an IUD inserted.  Yeah, I think my hubs is just totally thrilled with the way I chose to handle my problem.  The timing, it boggles.

I've never had an IUD before and it sounded just horrible to me.  A device that stays in your body - in your uterus! - for years at a time?!  No thanks, that sounds horrible. 

After inspecting one and having a lengthy discussion about what hormone is released by Mirena (and which are not), I agreed to go ahead and do it right then.  I know some of you are like, "WTF?  ON YOUR PERIOD??  ZOMG!!!"  Please realize that I wasn't thrilled at the prospect either.  I'm apparently not the only one who likes my doctor and his schedule is pretty full so I didn't want to wait for another cycle or two before coming back.  Also, he indicated that it was pretty well as good a time as it gets to insert an IUD based on the position of my cervix during menses.  My husband wasn't there to give his opinion (odd since he usually attends all appointments with me - I have issues with doctors), but I made a spur of the moment decision to just do it.

He talked to me through the entire procedure and always let me know what he was going to do before moving ahead.  My old friend, the plastic speculum, was surprisingly comfortable.  I'm usually squeezed up tighter than a virgin at a whore convention so that it's almost impossible to get it in and hurts like a mofo to click-click-click that bad boy open.  He said he was going to swabbed the interior of my ladyparts with iodine.  I half-way sat up, "Inside?!"  Yes, inside.  No, freezing cold iodine up your cooch doesn't feel good at all.  Not even on a hot day.

Whatever, my vagina and my cervix was swabbed with iodine.  It's not the worst thing I've had up in there.  It wasn't that bad and I figured that would probably be the worst of the whole procedure.  My naivete. . .it is so precious.

"I'm going to clip your cervix up and this will feel like a hard pinching pressure.  One, two, three. . ."

OH. MY. CERVIX!!! 

HOLY CRAPOLA!!

Immediate thought:  MUST.  NOT.  KILL.  HIM!!!

I couldn't breathe for a moment or two and I immediately broke out in sweat.  "Fuck, Doc, that really hurts," is all that I could push out between my clenched teeth.  Yes, I cursed in front of my doctor and his nurse.  No, I don't care and I don't think they did either.

"I know.  We're almost done.  I'm going to measure now.  This might feel uncomfortable"  Actually, I was so hyper-aware that MY CERVIX HAD A FREAKING CLAMP ON IT that I hardly noticed this measuring.  If anything, it reminded me of getting a pap smear and was the least painful part of the entire procedure.

At some point, his nurse grabbed my hand and murmured that it was almost over.  I was covered in a thin film of sweat and trying like crazy to breathe and not freak out because THERE WAS A CLAMP ON MY FREAKING CERVIX! 

The IUD was inserted.  Again, not all that painful because all I could feel or think about was my cervix.  I know it was only a few minutes at the most because there was a clock on the wall, but it felt like eternity before my cervix was released from such torment.

I was lying on the table and slowly became aware that it was over.  I propped up on my elbows, feeling like I'd just been thrown for a loop.  He helped me out of the stirrups and told me to relax for a minute before getting up.  We all discussed when to schedule my re-check and then he helped pull me up to a sitting position.  I still felt weird, but wanted to get the heck out of there at that point.

While I was getting dressed, I was very aware that I didn't feel right.  There was something inside of me and it felt wrong.  My cervix was smarting something fierce and I felt almost lightheaded from the whole experience.  My world was rocked and not in a good way.

Why did this hurt so much?  I don't know.  Perhaps my cervix is just particularly sensitive.  My cervix has never dilated by itself.  It has been manually dilated twice and I was under general anaesthesia both times.  Now I recognize the odd ache that I felt after both procedure.

I went home and was unable to walk upright within a couple of hours.  I couldn't pick up my baby.  I couldn't get in the shower.  I couldn't do much of anything except lie down and curl up in the fetal position. 

I was tempted to use the pain meds I'd been given after my last c-section, but didn't want to be out of it when baby woke for middle of the night nursing sessions.  I stopped taking prescription pain meds within two weeks of that surgery, but my cervix hurt bad enough after inserting the IUD that I wanted that level of pain relief.  I was also experiencing horrible cramping.  I ended up taking Tylenol to manage the pain.  In retrospect, I should have taken something stronger because no one gets a shiny gold star for being a pain martyr. 

The pain finally began to subside 36-hours after insertion.  I am still very aware that there is something inside of me, but I'm hopeful that this sensation will diminish over time.  I'm still getting the odd twinge of a cramp, but nowhere near as bad as it was yesterday.

I have heard from many women who have had an IUD and it's a pretty even split.  The ones who love it LOOOOOVE it and the ones who hate it HAAAAATE it.  None of them indicated that they experienced anywhere near the level of pain that I have experienced.  Only time will tell if the IUD works in the way I hope it will and I will be ecstatic if I can reclaim my life.

Have you had an IUD?  Did you have a painful insertion?  Was it horribly painful after insertion?  Did you have any positive or negative side effects?  Comment anonymously if you'd like and share your experience.

***

Oh, yes, the title of this post may seem odd.  The instrument that was used to hold my cervix is called a tenaculum.  While it is certainly a useful instrument, it is also most definitely a torture device.  Do a GIS and be prepared to see the stuff of my nightmares.

What Exactly is "Normal" Down Below?

Have you missed my blog posts about sex in general or vagina in particular?  Well, then you're in luck!  Prudes need not read any further - you've been warned.

I've noticed for many years that most porn actresses sport nearly identical looking nether regions.  Not only is there a specific "look" in porn videos, but print photos apparently received the same memo and reveal much of the same predictable result.  What is the preferred look that our X-rated friends are hustling?  It is a snatch that is totally devoid of any hair and with an utter lack of any labia minora visible. 

From an aesthetic standpoint, I can see why the hairless look is more popular for men and women.  After all, one watches porn to see people screwing. . .not to see what looks like a woman giving birth to a baby bear.  Hair obscures the vision and porn is all about visual stimulation.  I get that and I'm okay with it.  Of course, this grooming style spilled over to the general public a long time ago and I'd wager that nearly all women under the age of 30 keep up a bald vulva.  Whether or not they realize that they were manipulated into doing so by the porn industry (either through a significant other suggesting it or them doing it on their own after seeing it represented) is debatable and it doesn't really matter.  Speaking for myself, I think variety is fun and see nothing wrong with a rotation between shag, hardwood, or Berber.

The absence of labia minora is more puzzling and, I think, it has far more damaging consequences for women in general.  After all, hair can grow back as pubic fashions change and removing hair is a much easier proposition than removing excess labia.  Depending on the media, there are a few options:  one can tuck in their labia minora, have their labia minora digitally altered to look smaller or disappear entirely, or one can have a labiaplasty.  Obviously, cutting away a sensitive part of your genitals is the most extreme example and it's the one that I see becoming the result of exercising the first two options. 

The more times that women see a tucked labia or a photoshopped vulva, the more times that she'll feel unusual or weird for not looking the same way.  Ultimately, she may well end up seeing a plastic surgeon to "fix" what was never broken in the first place.  She seeks to be "normal" when, in fact, she already was the normal one.

It's like breast implants.  Heavily padded bras are one thing, but getting a surgery to alter your body is an entirely different animal.  Once women and men began seeing the result of breast implants, more women sought them.  The motivation behind the surgery makes no difference because the result is the same.  As more women get big fake boobs, women without big boobs begin to feel increasingly bizarre.  The natural women probably realize that they are being manipulated to want something unnatural, but the fact is that the natural woman looks weird at a certain point (and in certain geographic areas or work industries) rather than the other way around. 

Breast augmentations have become very popular and quite common.  Is labiaplasty the next plastic surgery craze?  If so, where do we put down our foot and say "ENOUGH!" 

Natural is no longer necessarily "normal."  Our sense of normalcy is being changed by surgeons, one cut at a time.  I can't blame the surgeons for filling a need.  The surgery most often wouldn't even be considered if it weren't for the porn industry normalizing an unnatural look.

A designer snatch.  A customized c*nt.  A perfect p*ssy.  I respectfully submit that such things aren't worthy of pursuit.  As I say about most (certainly not all) cosmetic surgery, I think the money would be better spent with a psychiatrist to find out why you're so unhappy with your own self.  To find out why you feel the need to surgically alter (mutilate, enhance, or whatever you want to call it) your body in an effort to find peace and contentment.

I think my husband said it best when he said that no man is going to refuse to have sex with a woman because her p*ssy lips protrude.  Indeed, I'd suggest that having at least a little protrusion makes sex more pleasurable for both men and women because the labia are an extension of the vagina and the stroking friction feels good.  That said, there is a wide range of normal and warm & wet feels good no matter what the rest of the packaging looks like.

I write all of this knowing that I'm a hypocrite.  I've often thought that I'd like to do one specific thing to my snatch.  My husband, and every other man who I've mentioned this to, thinks I'm absolutely nuts.  I know I have a great little p*ssy and I logically realize that my emotions on the matter have been manipulated by the porn industry.  However, there is still that part of me that thinks it would be so much better if I just do this one little thing. 

Thank goodness I have the number of a good therapist!

My Ironic Nickname

Here's a real quick English lesson before the post:  Irony is the opposite of what most people think it means.  You'd expect a big guy to be called "Fatty" so that is not ironic, but calling him "Slim" fits the definition.  I've always been clumsy and accident prone and my parents bestowed upon me the ironic nickname "Grace" at an early age.  After my OB appointment yesterday, I think I have earned a new ironic nickname.  Just call me "Class" from now on.  It all started a couple of days ago. . .

I've written about how I primp before a doctor visit and, knowing that I had an upcoming appointment, I decided to get reacquainted with my razor.  All was going well until I got to the main attraction.  I'm pretty sure I've mentioned the dangers in shaving areas that you can't see after I cut my labia a month or two ago.  That sucked, but it was a clean slice and it healed quickly. 

So I've established that shaving by touch alone can be hazardous.  This time around I not only couldn't see because my belly obscures my line of sight, but also because I've been wearing my glasses and I obviously don't wear those in the shower.  Even if I could see my sn@tch around my belly, I wouldn't be able to see it without working eyes.  I was blind x 2 and using a sharp instrument on tender areas - what could possibly go wrong?

I passed my razor over what I thought were the edges of the hedges.  A rinse revealed to my fingers that I had instead cut a hole right around the middle of the turf up top.  How I so badly misjudged where my razor actually was, I have no idea.  I might add that things aren't so bushy down below that I could just fluff things up with a hair pick later to disguise the damage.  That's right; I may be a hippie, but I still don't sport a pubic 'fro.  Figuring that I was probably thinking it looked worse than it really did, I left well enough alone and put my razor away.  I actually went to bed and forgot about it.

As is customary, I surveyed the landscape the next morning as I was getting dressed and HOLY CRAP!  I had a giant freaking hole in the middle of my pubic hair.  I stared at it, wondering how to fix this horrible hair cut when the obvious solution came to me.  In for a penny, in for a pound.  Yep, I decided to shave it all off.

After I removed every last hair, I remembered why I had used the razor in the first place.  I had a dang doctor's appointment.  I might tell my doctor about my spontaneous orgasms, I might smile during breast exams, but I have NEVER presented a completely bald vulva for a pelvic exam and the very thought of someone other than my husband seeing EVERYTHING made me feel terribly uncomfortable. 

It's not that my vulva is weird or anything (well, any weirder than any of them look), but I just feel ultra-ultra naked when I go totally bare.  What woman wants to be ultra-ultra naked with a stranger fingering her in front of her husband?  Actually, that might fly in certain circumstances but not with a doctor who I like and trust.  Not only that, but friction tends to engorge the area when I don't have a little bit of hair up top to help buffer things and that leaves me feeling extremely turned on and/or looking extremely irritated.  I wouldn't care if I was all red and inflamed looking, but I sure as heck don't want the doctor to think that I'm presenting a wet & horny looking pu$$y because of the stupid pelvic exam.

I could have tried to reschedule the appointment, but his schedule is usually very full and I didn't want to risk losing the appointment I did have.  I was trying to think when the last time was that I had a pelvic exam and why.  All I could come up with was it was when I was still having significant bleeding problems in this pregnancy and I think the last one I had was right after I had completed my first trimester.  I decided that I probably wouldn't need another pelvic exam although I'd experienced another spotting episode over Labor Day so I kept my appointment.

You know, I did not have a pelvic exam yesterday so all my worries were for nothing.  That's not to say that I didn't do something so totally boneheaded that I still cringe to think of it.  Read on. . .

Yesterday was a hot day.  It may not have felt all that hot to the non-pregnant members of the population, but it was hot as the blazes to me.  When it's hot out, I prefer to nap wearing as little as possible.  With this in mind, I stripped off my clothes (including panties & bra) and slipped on a nightgown when it was naptime.  I've been sleeping poorly now for weeks upon weeks so I let naptime last as long as I possibly could before having to jam over to the doctor's office.

My hubs woke me up and said that I had to get dressed because we had to go.  He grabbed our son and, while getting ready to put our boy in the car, our dumb dog ran out of the house.  This happened as I was pulling a dress out of the closet.  The yelling, barking, and resulting mayhem caused me to slip the dress over my head and run outside.  I grabbed my son, fearing that our dog might become roadkill, and pulled him in the house while hubs dealt with the dog.  Hubs got the dog under control and put back in the house.  He put the kiddo in the car while I grabbed my shoes and hopped in the car. 

Observant readers may notice what I did not put on.  What was I not wearing?  Panties.

A bare vulva, no panties (bra was missing too, BTW), and a dress.  Class, man, pure class.  When did I notice my missing undergarments?  When we were half-way to the office and were already running late.  Wonderful, just wonderful.

I did not have a pelvic exam so one might think that my whorish attire wouldn't be noticed, right?  Wrong!  Remember that I was wearing a dress?  That means that I need to lift my dress to expose my abdomen so the Doppler can amplify the sound of my baby's heartbeat.  Generally, my doctor grabs a sheet and tucks it in the waistband of my skirt or pants while performing this part of his exam. 

Guess what?  There was nothing for him to tuck the sheet into yesterday.  Not only that, but he also took a fundal height measurement and that most definitely revealed that not only was I not wearing panties, but that I was ultra-ultra naked down below.

Ever the professional, even with who I assume is his nuttiest (and perhaps sluttiest) patient, he inquired if there was a reason I'd disrobed and if there was something I wanted him to check out.  Uh, no Doc, that's pretty f*cking far from what I'd like because now I feel ultra-ultra naked and hella embarrassed.  It was like I was the only one who showed up naked on the nude beach.  Sure that I could see my husband's smirk in my peripheral vision, I gave a dismissive wave of the hand and simply said, "No.  It's a long story."  The doctor wisely kept his mouth shut.

I'd say that I'm officially "that" patient and I have most definitely earned my new ironic nickname.  Have you ever had an embarrassing mishap while visiting the doctor?  Please share and help me feel like I might still have some tiny lingering shred of dignity left intact.

I'm Definitely Patient of the Year

I'm a little over 21-weeks along and I saw my OB last week.  He reviewed the big ultrasound results from a couple of weeks ago and everything looks, in his words, "excellent!"  He was very happy to hear that I haven't had any spotting episodes since the last appointment and the baby's heartbeat sounds great. 

He commented that my weight gain (6 pounds total) is "wonderful" and added that it would be a bit on the low side if I had been at an ideal weight prior to conception, but he was happy with my progress since I was a little overweight to start.  Ouch!  My husband patiently explained several times after the appointment that, no, the doctor did not say I was fat and I'm going to choose to not obsess on the matter.  I guess it could have been worse anyway since he could have told me to reign in my eating and stop stuffing so much food in my pie-hole. 

As it is, he told me to keep doing whatever it is that I'm doing.  Um, that would be basically living on Sonic burgers, Del Taco tacos, and those vile little tacos (that are oh-so-freaking delicious right now!) from Jack in the Box.  Oh, and lemonade.  Lots & lots of lemonade.

It really should have been a quick in and out appointment because we were done within around ten minutes.  Sensing I had an opportunity and feeling like there was no time like the present, I decided to ask him about a few things that have been rattling around in my noggin.  Yep, it was time to talk about childbirth and placentas.  I asked my hubs to leave the room since the poor guy turns green when I talk about my placenta plans.  I'm nearly certain that my doctor was thinking, "Uh-oh, it's so off-the-wall that she's sending her husband away. . .what in the world is about to come out of her mouth?"  If he did think such a thought, he was right to be wary.

I chose to tackle childbirth first.  Thanks to the way that my HMO staffs OBs at the hospital, my doctor has no interest - financial or otherwise - in seeing me have a c-section.  That's great and I think it would be wonderful if that were the standard because I believe it means the doctor will be more honest when discussing the risks v benefits and less likely to use bullsh*t scare tactics to push a c/s in order to line their own pockets or manage their own time effectively.

Though I'm well informed and have taken it upon myself to get educated on the matter, he detailed the risks involved with each method of delivery.  I tried to tell him that I know all that and he asked that I listen because informed consent isn't really informed consent unless the patient is actually informed.  The logic of the statement struck a chord so I did listen.  When he was finished, I still hadn't made a clear decision.  He shrugged and said that there was no need to decide anything yet and I could take another couple of months to come up with how I'd like to birth this baby.

He didn't bring up certain things that I specifically wanted to know about so I came right out with what has been bothering me.  I will not disclose the specifics of my questions and I won't share his exact answers.  Let's just say that decades of dealing with pregnant females and their kooky questions is probably the only thing that kept him from doing a total facepalm during this discussion.

At the end of it all, I said that I'd rather have an elective repeat c-section and I am not willing to experience a trial of labor.  No, he didn't use any scare tactics.  No, he didn't push another c/s.  He simply stated the obvious and pointed out something I already knew.  I was already leaning toward another c-section since last January so I feel confident in my decision.  Of course, that's not to say that my thoughts won't change in the coming months. . .

He stood up, ready to leave, when I mentioned that I had one last question.  I asked The Question.  I wanted to know if the hospital would release my placenta to me.  I wish that I'd had a camera handy because the look on his face was priceless.  I really do think that I shocked him. . .his jaw actually dropped!  He recovered quickly and explained that he'd never been asked that question and he wasn't sure, but that he'd inquire about it on my behalf and get back to me.  He made a quick note, stared at me for a moment and asked why I wanted to take my placenta home. 

My response?  "I'd rather not disclose that information."  Yeah, I'm pretty sure that shocked him too.  I mean, I'm the patient who is basically an open book about every gross & weird thing that goes on in my body and I'm totally silent on this so I'm certain that he would like to know why I'm mum on the matter.

My husband groaned and rolled his eyes when I told him that I'd discussed my placenta with the doctor.  He was certain that there would be no way they'd let me have it because it's, as he calls it, "biological waste."  Well, I received a message yesterday from my OB and guess what?  I can take that bad boy home!  Woo-hoo!

Poor hubs shuddered when I told him the good news and remarked that I probably wouldn't be allowed to take it if they knew about my plans.  I said that they don't so it doesn't matter.  Then I gagged the poor guy out even more by suggesting that I might just plant it in the garden because it's supposed to be an excellent soil amendment.  I don't know that he'll ever eat another bit of produce that I grow again. . .LOL!

So now I'm looking for recommendations for placenta encapsulation in the Orange County area.  I will know the birth date since I'm having the birth scheduled.  Does anyone know anyone who provides this service?  Any help or advice would be appreciated.

Do You Primp. . .

for pelvic exams?

While I did have a female physician for around ten years, it's true that I generally prefer male doctors because I've mostly had not-so-good experiences with female physicians.  I would think that females would be more understanding or more gentle and men would be, well, brutish men.  But I've universally found the opposite to be true; the male doctors I've had (save one) have been far more respectful and sensitive than their female counterparts.

My experiences as a patient lead me to prefer male physicians.  Yes, even when I'm looking for an OB/GYN.  Therefore, it might sound odd that I have a routine I follow to prepare for a visit to any doctor who might have to paw around my ladyparts. 

Some of you might think it sounds like I have a weird kink, but I look at is as more of a courtesy.  For example, I wouldn't think of going to the dentist without making sure my mouth is pristine with freshly brushed and flossed teeth.  So why would I expect a gynecologist to dig around in my vagina when I have a 5 o'clock shadow and haven't bathed that day?  Simply put, I think it would be rude and inconsiderate.  All this said, I've often thought it would be hilarious to eat a mouthful of Oreos and see the dentist immediately afterward with all those grainy chocolatey cookie bits up between me teeth. . .

What's my routine?  I do a few things, but my primary concern is to make sure that my legs, hedges, and undercarriage are freshly shaved which means that I've taken a shower the day of the exam.  I might trim the turf up top if I have the time though it's not something that I worry about since that's not the part that is being handled during a gynecological exam.  I make sure that the bottoms of my feet are clean since it would be grody to put dirty feet in the stirrups.  I also remember to shave my underarms and put on deodorant because no one wants to catch a stinky whiff while doing a breast exam. 

My husband seems amused that I have this prep involved before a pelvic exam and he understands the comparison to visiting the dentist.  In any event, I suppose that there's no real primping involved since I just practice what I think is good hygiene before a doctor visit.  I can't be the only woman who does this so do weigh in if you primp for pelvic exams. 

A Helpful Tip

It's generally not a good idea to shave your nether region
if you can't actually see it. 
Yes, I am now speaking from experience. 
OUCH!

So What Do You Call It?

I love words, but sometimes I'm unsure what words to use.  Case in point, what to call sexy parts when you have a toddler.  I'm on the fence on the issue and still not entirely comfortable with how I've chosen to handle the situation because I haven't exactly answered his question.

Penis and vagina may be technically correct terms, but they're so clinical-sounding and I'm not one to generally use such accurate language in everyday conversation.  My favorite names for genitals aren't appropriate for a toddler to use so I settled on calling my son's penis a "wiener" early on.  Wiener is such a fun word, totally neutral and almost universally liked.

I know that some parents will think I'm doing him a disservice by not using the proper term, but I don't care that he calls it a wiener.  I mean, we also call the lower abdomen a tummy or a belly when the stomach is not exactly in that area (it's more like intestines & reproductive organs) so it's not like we always use the most accurate term for human anatomy.  I don't see why I should a stickler for penis (hehe) if I'm not with other body parts.  And I'll bet that even the most penisy and vaginey parents are guilty not always using the correct term for every body part.  Specifically, most of them use the word vagina incorrectly whether they realize it or not. 

I have trouble with what to call girly bits.  As I stated above, my normal words for that part of my anatomy would probably cause some women to curl their toes.  Vulva is the obvious choice since it does, in fact, refer to the exterior area of a woman's nether regions.  I've thought about "vadge" as it is half of the name for the immediate interior of my lady parts and vagina is widely, though erroneously, used as the blanket term for the general vicinity. 

Why does this come up?  Well, because he still does occasionally see me undressed and he's asked, "What's that?"  My answer has been a simple, "It's Mama's."  Sometimes I'll just say, "Pubic hair," as that's technically what he's pointing at and, so far, that seems to satisfy his question. 

What do you call male and female genitalia when talking with toddlers?  Why did you choose the words you chose?

A Reminder to Myself

DO NOT HANDLE PEPPERS WITH BARE HANDS

WHEN YOU HAVE TO INSERT A

VAGINAL SUPPOSITORY LATER IN THE EVENING!!!

There's Fungus Among Us

I'm practically baking bread at the moment. . .WITH MY VAGINA!!  Yes, this is a follow up to the post I wrote around midnight in which I was soliciting a little feedback about vaginas from my female readers. 

I sent a message describing my freaky vaginal symptoms to a friend and she strongly suggested that I get a professional opinion right away.  So I bit the bullet and sent my doctor a message.  Thankfully, I never drink during the day so at least I won't cringe at anything I wrote to him. . .you all know exactly what I'm referring to! 

I kid you not, he responded in four minutes.  Four minutes!  I don't even respond that quickly to messages from my own family!  If anyone reading this is a Kaiser member and they are looking for an OB/GYN, I will totally give him a recommendation.  It's also important to note that he has a soft touch, if you know what I mean.

I'll spare the readership what I actually wrote, but I'm pretty good with words and I give disgustingly detailed descriptions so I didn't even have to come to the office.  Yeah, no kidding Doc, I wouldn't want to see this mess up close either - haha!  He replied that I gave an excellent description of a yeast infection and advised me to hightail it over to a pharmacy or drug store to pick up some Monistat.

He didn't give me any sex advice, but yeast infections aren't considered to be an STD.  However, I'm guessing it's not a good idea to sex up my husband at the moment.  And, honestly, why would he want to stick his dick in a minge that's making muffins?  Oh, Candida, you rascally wench, you've successfully staged a coup d'etat up in my fun zone and temporarily put my nether region out of commission.  Again with this no sex BS!  Grrr!

I've never had a yeast infection before and I have no idea why I suddenly developed one now.  Like I said in my previous post, I have been blessed with a remarkably low-maintenance vagina.  All I've had to do in my entire life is trim the hedges and keep the undercarriage clean and it took care of the rest.  If this is just a normal part of aging, I can confidently say that I prefer the alternative.

But I have heard from two women who experienced yeast infections soon after losing a baby.  I find that interesting and wonder if it has something to do with the cervix still being somewhat open or just being more prone to a fungal takeover due to shifting hormones or some other reason.  Of course, ignoring the doctor's sex advice to use rubbers probably wasn't the smartest move, but I had a logical reason.  Well, it seemed logical at the time anyway.

I was surprised to discover that a vagina afflicted with a yeast infection doesn't smell funky at all.  In fact, it smells remarkably normal.  I would have thought that it would have a bad odor or at least smell a little "off" down there.  I don't even have any terribly weird discharge or anything like that.  My point in mentioning these things is that it's possible to have a real infection without any really gross symptoms.  Uncomfortable symptoms, sure, but not horribly gross.

There you have it.  My husband's personal playground is shut down once again, meaning that the both of us will be grouchy for about a week.  So don't accuse me of having a sandy vagina because, as we now know, I have a yeasty vagina.

For the Ladies - HELP!

I have a very specific situation with my ladyparts and I want to get advice about it, but I don't want to send a message to my doctor because he probably already thinks I'm a hot mess. 

Curse you, Drunklestiltsken, for embarrassing me in front of my own damn doctor! 

My husband says that doctors are used to patients asking about grossness and we pay them to listen to our funky problems, but I am not prone to experiencing any freaky stuff downstairs and I totally don't want to describe my situation in much detail. . .let alone have someone pawing around down there when things aren't absolutely awesome.  I kinda pride myself on having a wonderfully fantastic vagina and I don't want anyone, even a doctor, seeing it and digging in if it's not as lovely as possible.  Yeah, I take extra care when trimming the hedges if I have a doctor's appointment the next day. . .just as I'd make the extra effort if I had a date with a sexy man!

What's a girl who is impossibly vain about her vagina to do?  Well, I put on my doctor's coat and hit the internet to self-diagnose what's going on at the Y. 

Aaaand the results are inconclusive.  Dammit! 

I'm leaning toward one thing, but I just don't know because I've never had a weird situation brewing down below.  I've never had an infection or disease or inflammation or anything out of the ordinary happen in my sexyparts so I'm mystified why I might have a problem now.  Seriously, I've had a remarkably blessed and resilient vagina for my entire life and this funny stuff that's going on isn't all that funny.  It's definitely funny queer v funny haha.  I'm sorely tempted to use some home remedies for the thing that I think I might be experiencing.  However, in the event that I'm wrong, I don't want to screw things up any more than they already seem to be down there.

I don't even want to indicate what my symptoms are because I'm so creeped out by the entire situation.  I realize now that I probably should have followed my OB's advice about both abstinence and rubbers, but I guess it's too late now.  I mean, you can't exactly put the cat bag in the bag.  Alternately, once you start going bareback, there's no point in going back. . .?

I told hubs that if the playground isn't back in working order in a day or so that I'd swallow my pride and contact my doctor.  Naturally, I'd like to avoid doing so because of the vanity I explained above.  I guess that I should bite the bullet at some point, but I so dread sharing this scene with anyone. . .even someone who is/should be used to see effd-up sh*t going on up in women.

Speaking anonymously, of course, have you ever had a weird situation down below?  What did you have?  What were your symptoms - please be as specific as possible?  How did you take care of it?  And do you think I'm being lame to not want to go to the doctor?

 * * *

Click here for the follow up to this post.

Sex, Childbirth, and Tight Vaginas

It's been raining for days on end here and, as a result, I've spent a fair amount of time goofing around on the internet while my son totally destroys my living room.  I came across a thread on a website I frequently check and it left me more than a little disgusted.  The article was about the alarming rise of unnecessary C-sections, unnecesareans if you will, that are being foisted upon American women.  The comments on the article were mainly about whether a woman should always opt for a Cesarean so she can keep a "perfect" and tight vagina.

* * *

Nearly 33% of babies are now born via C-section and that percentage has risen for the last 13-years.  If that doesn't alarm you, then you just don't understand why a Cesarean should only be used in a legitimate emergency situation and you don't realize that 32.9% of births are most certainly not emergency situations.  I wonder why no one brings up the incredibly high C-section rate in this country when discussing maternal mortality because it most certainly has an impact on that number.

I understand why Obstetricians may push for a C-section.  They do have prohibitively expensive malpractice insurance costs because parents want blood, or money, if their child is born with anything that can remotely be considered a "defect."  Doing something, even if it's a major abdominal surgery, is viewed as better than nothing; that is, letting a baby be born the way nature intended - through the vagina. 

A certain John Edwards, yes that John Edwards, and his lawsuits concerning cerebral palsy (basically he blamed vaginal birth and, though there is no real evidence to prove that, juries bought his argument) can certainly be thanked for a sharp rise in C-sections.  Practicing defensive Obstetrics and adopting the line of, "when in doubt, cut it out," absolutely has to do with bloodsucker attorneys.  It is interesting to note that the cerebral palsy rate is roughly the same though Cesareans have increased dramatically in the last several years.  But this really isn't about a womanizing failed political candidate who fathered a child while his wife was dying of cancer.  This is about how the medical & legal system, and society in general, is failing women and failing newborns.

* * *

A Cesarean isn't something to be chosen lightly.  It is a major abdominal surgery.  Major!  Understand that a mother who has experienced (in my opinion, suffered is the better word) a C-section will have to recover from a major abdominal surgery while caring for a newborn and any other children at home.  She is more likely to struggle while establishing a breastfeeding relationship because she probably didn't get to nurse her child for an hour or more after delivery and a six-inch scar across her lower abdomen doesn't particularly make it comfortable to have an 8-pound bundle of joy resting on the incision to nurse.  She is more likely to have complications while recovering from childbirth because, in addition to delivering a baby, she experienced a major abdominal surgery.  She is also more likely to die from childbirth (during and after) than a mother who delivers vaginally.  And that's just negative impact on the mom! 

The baby is more likely to have breathing difficulties because they didn't get the benefit of having their chest squeezed through the birth canal, thus helping to clear their lungs.  The baby doesn't get the benefit of the exposure to bacteria present in normal vaginal flora, which is thought to help reduce asthma, allergies, and various infections.  The benefits of breastfeeding for infants is well-documented and babies born via C-section are less likely than their vaginally delivered counterparts to enjoy these benefits for any length of time.  The baby, a newborn, is exposed to the analgesics and anesthesia required to perform a major abdominal surgery.  This one really gripes me because I lived a very clean life when I was pregnant and I believed that a spinal would not reach my son. . .guess what?  Regional anaesthesia does reach the baby.

Before I get a bunch of breastfeeding Cesarean survivors all up in my grill, let me be clear that I'm living proof that it's possible to establish a good nursing relationship - even if you had what is called an "elective" c-section, but it will be a more difficult endeavour than if you'd had a vaginal birth or at least experienced some labor.

I'm not against necessary Cesareans; they do absolutely have their place in Obstetrics.  They absolutely can save the lives of mothers and children.  But they are performed far too frequently in America and hopefully everyone understands why a vaginal birth is preferable to a Cesarean (in the absence of a true emergency) in terms of maternal and infant health.  Even the word "emergency" might be confusing because many women have been lied to about what is a true emergency.  For the record, "failure to progress" does not usually signify an emergency; it signifies that the OB wants to go home for the day.

I might add that the true disservice being done to the unnecesarean victim isn't even apparent until the woman wants another child.  In some areas and with some doctors, a woman who had one C-section will deliver all future children in the same fashion.  Kinda makes you question the motivation behind the actions of some "cutters, " doesn't it?  After all, Cesarean deliveries are billable for far larger amounts than a routine vaginal birth.

* * *

It's hard to argue with what I've written thus far because I haven't just been spouting my opinions today.  Note though that my position about Cesareans, vaginal births, and vaginal birth after Cesarean (VBAC) have only been strengthened by the facts that I've learned about childbirth in America while I researched this post.  Needless to say, I will absolutely prepare myself as much as possible to have a VBAC when it's time for this baby to be born and I'm thankful that our HMO does encourage women to have a VBAC if possible and if the woman so desires.

I've written how the medical and legal system fail women and now I want to focus on how society fails women on this issue.  The myth of the "perfect" vagina is just that - a myth.  The "perfect" vagina does not exist.  Unfortunately, a lot of women do strive to achieve vaginal perfection and they are disappointed when they realize that it is not realistic.

Outside of mainstream porn with their proliferation of vaginas that have clearly had vaginoplasty and labiaplasty, most vaginas are pretty damn weird looking.  It's a dark and mysterious place that looks funny inside and out.  But guess what?  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I'm willing to bet that the individual you have sex with thinks your vagina is freaking spectacular and they probably would love to get in it every single day.

Does vaginal birth "wreck" or "blow out" your vagina?  I don't know because I've never experienced a vaginal birth, but I'm inclined to say that it does not get ruined by childbirth.  If it did, no one would have more than one child.  Seriously, think about it.  If vaginas are left permanently floppy and sloppy after childbirth, why would it get penised enough to get the woman pregnant again?  The man would have a really difficult time ejaculating if his penis didn't get any friction from the vaginal walls and no ejaculation equals very slim chance of pregnancy.

I'd imagine that the first few times having sex after a vaginal birth aren't really all that great.  Perhaps it might still feel a little slack weeks later or maybe stitches (if she was cut or tore) are still irritating.  Well, women who have vaginal births aren't the lone rangers when it comes to awkward post-childbirth sex.  In my typical way of sharing way too much information, sex after a Cesarean isn't exactly awesome and it very nearly brought me to tears (and they weren't tears of joy) because my incision site was so damned painful more than six-weeks later.  And that's not even the entire story.  I know it makes no sense, but things somehow felt different on the inside to me too and not in a good way.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that I figure that post-childbirth sex isn't going to be the most mind-blowing sex ever experienced so get back in the habit and eventually it will be great again.

Have you (or your partner) experienced vaginal birth?  Were Kegels practiced prior to birth and afterward?  Long clenches, short & rapid clenches, or a mix of both?  What was the end result of the vagina?  Did it feel any different?  Was sex better, worse or about the same?  Am I crazy for throwing caution to the wind and risking the size of my tiny vaginey by deciding to have a VBAC?

* * *

I know that I've touched on some fairly controversial issues in this post today.  I hope that any comments can be respectful and that we can express ourselves without belittling or attacking each other.  Remember to fight the position, not the person.

Is a Merkin Next??

I've held off on writing this for a long time, but I found a grey eyelash in the last week and it prompted me to actually create this post.  There's no time like the present, so here goes. . .

I grew the first grey hairs on my head when I was around 16 or so.  I didn't look like Emmylou Harris or anything, but I had a few here and there.  I did what any mortified teenager would do:  I plucked them out until I began to regularly color my hair.

I discovered a grey eyebrow hair a few years ago.  Though I immediately plucked out the offending hair, that miserable little grey thread really bummed me out.  I mean, it's no big deal if I begin to sport a crowning glory of silver hair on my head, but grey body hair. . . well, that's something totally different.  I've spent enough time on nude beaches to know what was coming next.

Several months ago, it may have been a year, I discovered it.  Something that I had been dreading.  Something even more disturbing to me than that one damned grey eyebrow hair. 

I found a grey pubic hair.

For my younger readers, pubic hair is what is naturally grown on your "mound" or around your "junk."  You may well wax it all off, thereby ripping it from your flesh, but it has existed nonetheless.  I give props to those of you who go this route as there is no way that I'll commit to keeping a shiny & pristine p*ssy and waxing makes me bleed like a mo-fo.  I'm not saying that I'm a Sascrotch or anything, but for hirsute folks like myself, we just try to manage our pubic area effectively while not causing injury to any visitors or ourselves.  A controlled chaos, if you will.

Grey pubic hair.  Oh man, what a load of crap.  How am I possibly old enough to have grey pubes?  And what am I supposed to do about it?  Shall I begin to color it?  It wouldn't be too big of a deal, I suppose.  After all, when I used to keep up my hair color, I always made sure the carpet matched the drapes.  Perhaps I should just shave it all off and present a pre-pubescent illusion?  Not that I have anything against a bald vulva, mind you, it's just that I'm a little weirded out by keeping it that way all the time.  Besides, I don't have all day to spend in the shower while I shave my snatch.  Maybe I should just pretend it doesn't exist and pluck it out whenever I find one.

So I have grown grey pubic hair.  Good fucking grief!  What's next?  Will I begin to lose my body hair?  Actually, all those days spent on nude beaches has prepared me for that inevitability. . .and that leads me back to the title of this post. 

Will I be sporting a merkin next?

I Might be a Convert

WARNING - WARNING - WARNING: After taking a day off, I'm back to what has become my regularly scheduled postings about Aunt Flo. If you haven't been following my vagina's adventures with the Diva Cup, you should probably stop reading right now. I do believe this will be my last post in the series chronicling the battle.


I might have to rethink my desires about the birth of my next child. I think I would like a completely drug-free vaginal birth. I've thought about it so much that it is quite romanticized in my mind. The joy of letting my body take the lead in a natural delivery. The pleasure of allowing my newborn to suckle colostrum right after being welcomed into the world. The happiness I would feel if I can avoid another surgical delivery. Since I was denied my desires when my son was born, I imagine that a drug-free birth would be the very best experience I could ever hope to have.

But if I can hardly handle a 1" diameter silicone cup, how in the heck will I manage a head with a circumference of 14-centimeters? And I don't even know if that's considered a big head or not! For all I know, that might be considered tiny.

I'm on Day 4 with the Diva Cup. I wouldn't say that I love it, but I've definitely warmed up to it a little. I even forgot that I was on my period today. Insertion and removal aren't exactly easy, but they are easier than they were on Day 1. I think I'm figuring out which techniques I like best.

I smugly walked by the feminine aisle in the drugstore today. I got really excited when I realized that the Diva Cup will have paid for itself if I can manage to use it for five cycles. I love that I haven't had to frantically search for tampons this month. I have particularly enjoyed not having to fuss with my period at all with all the hours I've spent at the hospital these last few days.

I can't recommend this product to everyone because some women might be a little squeamish about how it's used. But if you can handle your own vagina and you hate throwing money away each month, this might be something you should consider. The Diva Cup - I'm not completely a fan yet, but I'm getting there.

Day 2 with the Diva

WARNING - WARNING - WARNING: This post is about as gross as yesterday's. See my disclaimer at the beginning of yesterday's post and decide if you're really prepared to continue reading. And, for pete's sake, if you are my brother, please stop reading now. I mean it, you big weirdo!



I think I have a tiny vaginey. I told you to quit reading, Big Brother!

Anyway, I'd love to claim authorship for that adorable-sounding turn of phrase, but the credit goes entirely to a crunchy mama friend. I broached the subject of Diva Cups while our little ones played at the park this morning. Yes, yes, I know that I'm a great conversationalist!

But really, who else would I be able to talk to about the Diva Cup? Crunchy mamas are the perfect choice because, between CDing and BFing, dealing with body functions in general don't bother them. Besides, I already knew that she uses the Diva and it was a good time to seek advice.

I explained the battle that has been on-going between my vadge and the Diva Cup. So far the Cup is winning, but only because I'm the muscle backing the Diva and my arms are much stronger than my vadge. At least, I'm assuming they are or my husband better keep a close watch on his wiener the next time we do some baby-dancing.

I bemoaned how difficult it is to insert and how exhausting it is to remove the damn thing. I explained the different ways I've folded it and the different ways I've attempted removal. It's painful no matter what I do and I think I've come to the conclusion that my Diva Cup is just too freaking big. She said, "You have a tiny vaginey." and I have to agree at this point. I always knew there was something my husband found absolutely irresistible about me!

I was given a choice between two sizes when ordering my Diva Cup. Size 1 is for the under-30 set who have never had children. Size 2 is for the over-30 set and women who have had children. Since I'm 29 (cough, cough) and I have had a child, I chose Size 2. It occurs to me now that, when given a choice between a large-sized vaginal product and a small-sized vaginal product, I always choose the smaller size.

On the plus side, I was finally able to get my Cup to spin tonight. I was so excited by this new development that I bent over, trying to see what was going on up there, but was unable to make visual identification. Of course, my vagina took advantage of my distraction and pulled the Cup further up so fast that I lost my hold on the stem. I want my vagina to have a victory, so I have decided to leave it alone for the rest of the evening.

Even with all the hassles, I'm not ready to give up on the Diva Cup. It's true that my downstairs aches and throbs after I've been fishing around in Aunt Flo's cozy cottage, but I suspect that even porn stars and chronic masturbators (two things I am not) would have trouble with this thing on the very first cycle. I'm willing to believe that this is just a very steep learning curve and that perhaps one day I'll find a way to manage insertion and removal without feeling like I've been violated. Please let tomorrow be that day!!

I'll Try Anything Once

WARNING - WARNING - WARNING: If you are of the male persuasion, this is not a post that you will want to read. Heck, most females I know are probably too squeamish to handle this one. This is not a post for those who are uncomfortable with frank descriptions of female anatomy, bodily functions, or profanity. I may have lost my entire readership after that disclaimer. In case there are still a few of you left, this post is a real doozy for you brave souls to digest.


I know this will not come as a surprise to any of you who are still reading this, but I have had things in my vagina from time to time. Not weird things, you freaks, normal things that might end up in a vagina. I'm not a virgin, so I've had a wiener in my hoo-haw. My doctor ruthlessly crams a speculum and his ham hands up there each year for a pelvic exam. I have used tampons for nearly the entire time that I've had periods - over 20 years. But I have something very strange in my vagina right now.

It started innocently enough. I was reading a message board and several members of this group were touting the awesomeness of menstrual cups. I'd first heard of reusable menstrual cups over 15-years ago when I was reading The Tightwad Gazette. The thought of using a little cup to hold your period drippings (and the subsequent washing of it) didn't appeal to me and I disregarded the idea as some kind of hippie horseshit. But within a couple of years, a friend gave me a box of Instead disposable menstrual cups that she didn't plan to use.

I'll try nearly anything once and I'm not afraid of my vagina, so I gamely used one of these Insteads on my next cycle. Insertion was remarkably easy and it was so comfortable that I nearly forgot that it was even in there. I thought these things were great. I was sold - no more tampons for me! Until it came time to remove and discard the cup.

Hooking my finger on the ridge of the cup was easy enough and I naively thought it was smooth sailing from that point on. Imagine my horror when this slimy little cup slipped out of my hand as I was about to dump an entire days-worth of blood. It looked like I had just killed someone in my bathroom. To make matters much, much worse - the bathroom was carpeted. Even worse than that? It was a light-champagne colored carpet.

I spent what seemed like forever cleaning up the scene of the crime. I muttered darkly about menstrual cups in general and vowed to never touch one of the slippery little sons-of-bitches again.


That was then. For several reasons, menstrual cups appeal more to me now than they did in my youth. I go through a box of tampons every month and the cost seems to increase with every freaking cycle. Seriously, is a little box of rolled cotton really worth more than $6? I guess it is because that's what I've been paying each month. And that's assuming that I can even find the ones that I use, which is often not the case. I can assure you that hunting the drugstore for tampons when you can tell that your pretty panties are getting destroyed is an impossibly frustrating feeling. I use tampons that don't have an applicator, so I'm already pretty comfortable having to put my fingers in my vadge while OTR. And, dang, those women on the message board made reusable menstrual cups sound so perfectly easy to use. Really, I'm a cheap little broad and the potential cost savings was reason enough to give menstrual cups another try.

So I began researching the dark & mysterious world of menstrual cups. You have two choices right off the bat: reusable or disposable. I decided to buy one of each. I know that using disposable cups would wipe out any potential cost savings, but I thought I'd give the Instead cup another shot anyway. There are many different varieties of reusable cups and I chose the Diva Cup because it seemed like the popular choice. I bought both on-line and even scored free shipping. Woo-hoo, I was feeling pretty happy with my decision.

Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how to change the shipping address, so the boxes ended up going to my husband's office. Ooops! He rolled his eyes when he handed me the box and sneered, "Your Diva Cup arrived at my office today."

Now, you'll have to bear with my fuzzy logic here, but part of me felt that I'd be guaranteed a pregnancy because I had just spent a lot of money on menstrual supplies. That wasn't the case (duh!) and my Aunt Flo made her monthly visit yesterday. I purposely didn't restock my tampons last month and I had only two choices: Run to the store with my panties stuffed with toilet paper and hunt for tampons or try a cup. I decided to try a cup.

The Instead cups are sort of like a diaphragm, small & flexible. The Diva Cup is ridiculously long and somewhat rigid. Seriously, it's a couple of inches long and, even all folded up for insertion, it is waaaay the heck bigger than any tampon I've ever used. I chickened out and grabbed an Instead. Just as a remembered, it was easy to insert and I couldn't even tell it was there. I even handled removal, emptying, and disposal like an old-pro. But, if I wanted to try to save some cash, I'd have to try the Diva Cup.

I took a warm shower to relax. Had my husband been home, I would have had a drink. I felt very intimidated by the Diva Cup. I realize that I've had much bigger things in my vadge, but it's usually after making out for a little bit. This stupid Cup wasn't even taking me out to dinner!

I couldn't even get it in at first. I had to try a few different ways to fold this beast before I could even get it in beyond my opening. I started pushing it in. And then it stopped. I kept trying to push it in further and it wouldn't budge. I wondered if it was possible to get it stuck. I tried to squeeze my fingers by to see if I could tell what the roadblock was, but there was no way I could feel that far without hooking my knees behind my ears. I was sweating at this point and wondered if I was making a huge mistake. I ultimately decided the positioning must be correct because there was nowhere else for it to go.

How'd I like it? I didn't. I have never suffered from cramps in my life, but holy smokes, this thing made my lady parts ache. I periodically (heh!) would check it to see if it had somehow moved. Nope, it was wedged up there pretty good. I went to bed, thinking that I'd have to find a way to deal with it in the morning.

I dreaded dealing with this thing this morning. What if I couldn't get it out? Would my husband be willing to pull the plug, so to speak? How would I explain this to the ER staff? Just when I started to really freak myself out, I flung the covers back and stomped into the bathroom to deal with the damned thing.

I sat on the toilet, doing the Larry Craig wide-stance. I took a deep breath and began my fishing expedition in the tight confines of Menstrual Lake. This cup has a handy little stem, which made finding it much easier than I anticipated. Removal was more painful than I expected, but it wasn't horrible. I pulled it out and emptied it in the toilet without even having to look at the contents. I felt so smart for my forethought.

And then I was left holding a bloodied cup in my hand. Remember, the Diva Cup is reusable. It lasts for a year. . .perhaps longer. But you're supposed to wash the cup prior to reinsertion. How was I supposed to clean this thing without dripping blood all over my bathroom floor? The idea of not washing it skeeved me out, so I decided on pulling the junior high move of stuffing toilet paper in my pants while walking to my sink to wash the cup.

Afterward, I folded it the way I had last night and insertion was much easier. It just doesn't seem like it's high enough up there. One other thing has been bothering me; you are supposed to spin this cup around while it's inside. Something about making sure that it's sealed. I don't know about anyone else, but I don't have room for it to spin. It's like my vagina has it in a death-grip or something. I've tried several times and it just won't work. I'm going to have to guess that all of this is normal for my body.

I've worn the Diva Cup for nearly 24-hours. I can't say that I'd recommend it to anyone at this point, but I understand that there can be a learning curve of sorts. For right now, this Diva's Cup is for Aunt Flo. If things don't get easier by the end of this cycle, I think I'll be hunting tampons again.