“Is everything okay in here?” my husband asked softly from behind the cracked bathroom door. I was on the other side, hiding behind the shower curtain, my face burning red from embarrassment and hidden from view.
He was checking on me because he had heard me crying. Even with the sound of the shower running and the door closed, he could hear me sobbing from our living room. Later he confessed to me that he was afraid that I had slipped and that I had gotten hurt in the shower.
We were only just home from the hospital; I had just given birth to our first child two weeks prior. There had been some complications during and after the delivery, so a fall wasn’t out of the question.
I almost wish I had fallen, or that I was crying out in pain—which after a third-degree tear, was considerable. Neither was the case. I was crying out of shock, a touch of shame, and a whole lot of embarrassment.
“I pooped in the shower,” I finally managed to say between sobs. My husband, not one to mince words, laughed. It wasn’t a cruel laugh, or even a laugh at my expense. He laughed because he was relieved that the only thing I had hurt was my pride. That didn’t make me feel any better though. I was standing in my shower of shame, afraid that I’d be pooping and peeing my pants forever, afraid that this was my new normal.
Later, after that shower, when everything was cleaned up and I was clothed and alone with my new baby, I did a quick Google search. I discovered that some urinary incontinence after childbirth was indeed completely normal. With Kegel exercises and some pelvic floor strengthening, most women saw significant improvement over time. I felt momentarily bolstered by that information, and secure in the knowledge that I could flex and stretch my way back to a tight seal in no time.
Ah, hubris…
Thankfully, I haven’t had another shower like that one. Unfortunately, I still have frequent accidents of the urinary variety. I am lucky as a stay-at-home mom that most of my bladder control problems are only witnessed by my children, which is convenient because, with both of them still in diapers, they have no room to laugh at me. It’s also appropriate that they bear witness to all of this, since it’s really all because of them.
I leak when I pick them up off the ground or squat to get down to their level, or I don’t run to the bathroom when I have to go because I have a million other things to do first. But on the bright side, children make easy scapegoats for any strange smells or patches of wetness I may encounter.
My toddler has just begun potty training. Yesterday she squatted down to play with her toy while we were outside on the deck and peed through her underwear. I quickly ran over to scoop her up and put her on the training potty that was outside with us, and I felt a gush of pee myself. Instead of immediately becoming frustrated, I laughed.
The two of us made quite a pair, peeing our pants while playing outside on the last real day of summer. She got upset, and a little embarrassed, as I quickly plopped her down on the potty and encourage her to try and finish.
“It’s OK,” I told her. “Everyone has accidents. Mommy still has them too!” I leave out the part where I think it’s all her fault.
I’ve made peace with my pee-pee pants, for the most part. If parenting has taught me anything, it’s that everything is temporary. And even if this is permanent, it’s a small price to pay for all of the labor (no pun intended) my body endured bringing these kids into this world and the joy I experience raising them.