The Only Part Of Your Pre-Baby Body Worth Missing Is Your Bladder
As I’ve said here before, the current version of my body and I have made our peace. We’ve forgiven each other over the stretch marks, the broadened hips, the weird saggy-tummy-skin thing going on around the top of my jeans these days. We’ve figured out ways to hide what’s going on in the general abdominal region, we’ve gone the one-piece swimsuit route, and we’ve acknowledged that “stretch mark fading creams” are not a good use of money. But there’s one thing I have to admit I’m not quite over, and one thing that cannot be hidden with any bold fabric or stiff denim yet invented. And that thing is my perfect, youthful, innocent pre-baby bladder.
I understand there’s no possible way for my lower abdominal region to fully bounce back from nine months of double occupancy. I just wish there was. Or that at least I could somehow train myself to never sneeze again. (That finger under the nose routine they do in cartoons, by the way? That works approximately zero percent of the time. Maybe less.) There is simply no regimen of kegels that can turn back the clock to my bladder of two or more years ago. There is only crossing the legs, squeezing the knees, and hoping for the best. Also, there is peeing my pants. There is in fact quite a depressingly large amount of that.
Of course the havoc wreaked on my bodily functions was worth it. Despite the nine-month war waged against my ability to maintain control of my urethral sphincter, I came out of it with two kids who are beautiful and funny and sweet. Even if they do currently take after me in terms of potty training. I have zero regrets. Well … almost zero regrets.
Bladder, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t appreciate my ability to do jumping jacks and pop squats more back in my pre-pregnancy days. I’m sorry that I never used to thank you properly after a serious sneeze. I’m sorry that I never told you how much I was obliged to you for containing yourself even during the longest coughing fits, the hardest fits of laughter, and the most surprising times I tripped over the dog. I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge you until it was too late. Bladder, please come back?Â I miss you, baby. Things will be different this time. I swear. For one thing, I promise to appreciate you more. For another, I promise never to be pregnant with twins again.
(Image: Piotr Marcinski/Shutterstock)