the problem with pelvic floors

If there is anything to take your mind off the main event at a funeral, it is needing to go do wee. Really badly. Really REALLY badly.

Unfortunately this is what happened to me yesterday. Getting myself ready and the kids off to a sitter before heading to Fremantle Cemetary took extreme military precision. Sleeps, showers and getting dressed was all timed to perfection so that I could make it on time.

Unfortunately, while I was very organised at getting the little one in a new nappy and the boy to do a wee before we left home, I somehow forgot to go myself. But I didn't forget to scull down two coffees and an orange juice.

I noticed that I really needed to go as I headed as quickly up South Street as I could manage in my little car. I was not quite late, but I wouldn't be early. Don't think about it - don't think about water, dont think at all. Yes hard as I tried, it got worse and worse.
Then I sat there listening to loving and kind words - grief and tears - and thinking terrible thoughts.

"Oh yeah, yeah, get on with it"

"Yes okay, good man, loved by all, we get it."

Now I am not a heartless person and I shed a couple of tears myself. But really, the risk of wetting myself right there in the chapel did take my mind off the sadness of the occasion. In a way it was a blessing. Kind of.

Bloody kids - not only have they stretched my belly to buggery, it seems that the two heavy little buggers have loosened up my innards as well. It is times like these that I wish I had've listened to my obstetrician. I should have done those exercises, but they were just so boring.

Instead I went to a women's health physio (on advice from my doctor who said my pelvic floor was 'non-existent') hoping for a miracle cure. She gave me more damn exercises. Oh sure I was good for a week or so, but I never have time to shower let alone sit there squeezing my fanny in an attempt to strengthen my 'P.F.'

Unfortunately, the weather has been lovely and I had a mild case of hayfever. As we were having a polite cuppa after the funeral I felt it coming.....a sneeze.

I clenched, I tried - I really did. But I didnt quite hold on tight enough. No I didn't do it there and then all over the floor, but I did have to change my daks when I got home.

Yuk, 30 years old and incontinent. And pregnant looking. What on earth is happening to me?

So I am off now to do some squeezes on my fit-ball. Because I can live with a fat gut. I can live with bad hair and spotty skin. I can live with hairy legs and bad clothes. But I cannot live with the risk of doing a wee wee every time I cough or sneeze.