30 May 2011
[I pee my pants.]
The first time it happened
I was appalled.
I was running my usual three-mile stretch
when I sneezed.
I'm one of those people
who looks at the sun for two seconds
It's called Photic Sneeze Reflex.
And since I live in Florida,
I sneeze all the time.
I actually (used to) enjoy it.
I found it refreshing.
until I got pregnant
and started pissing myself.
Let me preface this by saying
it's been a long time since I peed my pants.
Well, except for that one time in high school
when my friend Sarah cracked a joke
that had me rolling.
I suppose in a sense,
it's reminded me of what it feels like
to be a baby
with soggy drawers.
No wonder kids cry when their diapers are wet.
I stopped running.
I threw my hands to my hips
and sneered at my bulging belly. Damn you!
hoping the remark wouldn't cross the placenta.
I wasn't cursing my fetus.
He couldn't help that his apartment
came with leaky plumbing.
I was cursing his LANDLORD,
or whoever it is that lords over
the land of pregnant bodies.
I cursed That Guy.
(A woman would never design the uterus so that
it sits on top of the bladder.)
I cursed the small trickle of urine that
had undoubtedly seeped through my underpants
and onto my Nike running shorts.
If this is how it's going to be for five more months,
so be it.
I'm a pregnant pants pisser now.
And in damp underwear, off I ran
covering the rest of my three miles
in long, gallant strides,
sneezing twice more
and pissing twice more.
I tried to brace for the tinkles.
I crossed my legs and did my Kegels.
I held my stomach
and envisioned a faucet at the base of my urethra.
A stainless steel Kohler faucet
with ornate handles
and an eco-friendly, airtight flow-restricting valve.
The attempt proved futile.
My once-Herculean pelvic floor muscles
were buckling under pressure.
So I made peace with the inevitable
and appreciated the fact that my shorts were black.
I suppose even if they weren't,
I would have kept running.
As any former preg will tell you,
being with child means
learning to live without ego.
You adapt to the situation
by wearing maxi pads to funny movies.
This is Confession No. 9.
I'm just about 40 weeks pregnant
and I piddle my pants in small amounts.
Luckily, I have many pairs of underwear
and a husband who thinks poor bladder control
is borderline cute.
So much so that he even invented a song about it
to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
I can't remember all the lyrics,
but I can tell you
the first time I heard it
I laughed so hard
... I peed my pants.