In Loving Memory Of My Fruit Loop

Everyone knows that, unless you’re Katie Holmes, Kate Hudson or Jennifer Garner, or any of the other stars with a million dietitians, physical trainers and yogis working on you, once you pop out a sprog there is no going back to your previous body. Your arse is automatically bigger, your boobs are heading towards your belly button and your gut is a flap of skin that you have to lift out of the way if you ever get the spare time to do some downstairs maintenance and tend to your bits.

Of course, no one likes to bring up the topic of post-partum girly bits, whereas it’s not that big a deal to mention around the family table that after your first baby you struggled to get back into shape, it’s more than a slight faux pax to announce just to what extent pushing five kilos of baby out of your fruit loop does to your vag. The conversations are barely whispers around the world, and only with your closest friends or your gyno. Sure, your vulva may not be the prettiest body part, but childbirth certainly doesn’t help its cause at all.

Now I’m taking it back. My first birth, due to a combination of a baby ridiculously eager to get out, it being my midwife’s first EVER delivery and my son having a head similar in cicumfrance to a beach ball, lead to a five way tear ranging between 2nd and 3rd degree. As the doctor stitched me up she cheerfully remarked that tears tears made my vagina look like an upside down starfish. Just what I always wanted!!! It’s now getting on for three years and one completely tear free birth later, and I’m still having “issues” relating to the exit of my son.

One of these will destroy your vag, the other will destroy the couch, pick wisely.

I’m not here to scare people off having children, or giving birth vaginally, I would have exactly that same torturous birth over a c-section anyday, but somebody needs to come out and say just how traumatic it can be. Let the people like me with the completely butchered snatches be able to talk about them just as other mothers compare their stretch marks and boob growth. I’m sure I’m not alone in this, billions of other women have given birth, but no one ever mentions this part of it, and it’s about time someone did. I’m taking it back, putting it out there and possibly even use the sentiment to develop and new line of Mother’s day cards, Dear Mum, Thank you for being so loving, caring, and I’m sorry I fucked up your Vag.

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