Post-childbirth trampolining…
The last time I went to Sky Zone Trampoline Park – for Rissa’s 11th birthday – I was unprepared. Even though I had ’emptied’ my bladder twice before stepping onto the trampoline, my baby-stretched urethra gave up on the first bounce. (Not to say that I gave birth through my urethra – childbirth doesn’t work that way – contrary to what those who don’t get proper sex education think – it’s just all the pushing of large baby heads out that way messes with your pelvic floor muscles and your ability to hold your pee.)
I got to have one fucking bounce. Then I pathetically watched from the sidelines as my daughter and spouse gleefully experienced what appeared to be Trampoline Nirvana. David was like a fucking jackalope – bounding from tramp to tramp, bouncing off the walls – grinning manically the entire time.
I had done thousands of Kegels throughout my pregnancy (and long afterward) and I got one fucking bounce?
So, when Rissa decided that for her 16th birthday she wanted to go back to Sky Zone, I was all…
“Yay – that’ll be so much… fun.”
Not that I should have even been concerned with fun, I mean, it wasn’t my party, but David was already vibrating in anticipation of all the bouncing, looking like Wallace about to get some Wensleydale.
But then? I had an epiphany. (Cue epiphany music. Holst’s Neptune the Mystic at about 4 1/2 minutes in will do.) I went to the pharmacy. I strode purposefully towards the incontinence aisle.
Many linear feet of incontinence care products met my gaze. Where did I start? What absorbency? Would a 2 be enough? With a 6, would I feel a failure if I didn’t fill all the available pad? I settled for a level 4. This was good. This was me being proactive. This was me taking a stand against incontinence. I sashayed my peri-menopausal ass towards the counter. I slammed those puppies on the cashier’s counter… On the counter of the attractive, young male cashier, who’d been giving my sashay and my boobs the eye as I walked triumphantly towards him. Yep, nothing says sexy like incontinence pads. Still like the look of these boobs, my young lad?
We got to Sky Zone and I suited up for the main event. I am pleased to report that in the intervening 5 years since my last trampoline adventure, I must have gained back some of my pelvic floor muscles. I got three good bounces in before I peed. I’ll be honest, the first couple of times I peed, I experienced minor panic, but with a surreptitious glance down and accompanying hand brush over the groin to make sure I wasn’t sporting a wet spot, I was good. I didn’t care because I was Poised. Bum drop? No problem! Wall bounce? More than doable. Leaping from one tramp to another? Yes I squirted a bit, but my miniature diaper totally caught it all. I bounced for twenty minutes before my middle-aged body told me ENOUGH, but my yoga pants were still dry. By the end of my bounce session I had not a care in the world. I was sweaty, exhilarated and full of bouncy joy! And my pad? Room to spare! Thank you Poise pads!
Sincerely,
A wet-spot-free and very satisfied customer.
