So long, Cookie Monster

So, where were we?  Well, I have finally replaced all of my vagina goodies since leaving them in the bible drawer in my hotel. And I have mostly gotten over the embarrassment of knowing that some poor housekeeping staff member will stumble upon them and be in complete shock.  It’s now actually a rather funny story. It would be a GREAT cocktail party story, except I’d have to explain why I travel with 3 giant dildos, tubes of lube and piles of condoms without sounding like a sex-crazed maniac.

Anyways, all the goodies have been replaced, and although it cost me over $150, I am back on track again.  Sadly, the Cookie Monster is no longer a part of my collection.  I now have Big Red instead (basically the same o’ dildo but in metallic red).  And I replaced my set of 7 accommodators, but – lucky me! – number 7 is even BIGGER in this set than in my last (even though they are apparently from the same molds). But it is definitely less tapered, so it will be interesting to use.  My back problems have also seemed to almost vanish, so that’s also good news.

Hubby and I saw the sex therapist this week.  Every time I go, I go into the appointment thinking, “What could we POSSIBLY talk about this time???”  And every time we leave, I am completely surprised.  I don’t know that I particularly like this woman, but she certainly knows how to get people talking about sex.  Hubby and I had some eye-opening revelations, and we both left feeling really positive.

I feel like there’s a lot to say in this post so maybe I’ll continue with more tomorrow.  But – long story short – things are still moving (slowly) forward.

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Two Minor Complications

#1 – I threw out my back.  I have no idea how, but for the last week or so, I’ve been waddling around like a cowboy because my lower back has been going into spasm.  Thankfully my pelvic physiotherapist can also work on this, so I’ve been focusing much of my attention on getting my mobility back.

Oddly enough, I am still able to do homework (sitting in a recline position, legs spread, is no problem!); however, I am finding there’s not a lot of room in there.  Although there is no pain, I can only get my dilators in about halfway.  My physio says this is because my lower back muscles are in spasm and taking up a lot of that space.  So, until things calm down, we’ll be doing a half-assed job with homework.

Which would be fine except that…..

#2 – I left my giant ziploc bag of dilators, lube and condoms in the drawer of my hotel room in middle-America yesterday, right next to the King James bible.  I realized this as I was going through security at the airport, and although I would have had enough time to take a cab BACK to the hotel, get said bag of goodies, and make a mad dash back to the airport, I would not have been able to get everything through security (and my bag had already been checked).  The dilators I use are wax, which apparently show up on the airport scanners as liquid and its a giant hassle, not to mention a huge embarrassment, to try to explain this to the security guards (yes, I’ve done it once before and it wasn’t pleasant).

So, I contemplated Fed-Ex-ing the bag back to myself, but since I was in a small airport, there was no Fed-Ex office or post office.  I also contemplated calling the hotel, asking the sure-to-be-shocked receptionist to locate the bag of goodies and then mail it to me, but because I live in Canada, it would have had to cross the border, which creates a whole other brilliant scenario of awkwardness. Not to mention – it’s expensive!

Long story short, I used my extra time at the airport to research dilators (since my original set had come from a gynecologist I no longer see), and dildos.  And today I am driving all over town replacing all my props.

*sigh* but kind of a humorous story, nonetheless, don’t you think?

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Back on Track

I really want to thank everyone for the support and encouragement I received through the comments and emails that folks sent in response to my last post.  It was a shitty, shitty few days, but I feel like I’m back on the upward swing again.

I know that when I get into those vagina-induced depressions all I can really do is just ride it out.  It doesn’t help to ignore it; it doesn’t help to smother it with happy thoughts; it doesn’t help to analyze it and figure out why it exists.  I just need to let it happen – tears, fears and all that good stuff – ’cause eventually I do come out the other side.

This time, I surrounded myself with good people.  I took a few days and went to visit my sister and my mom, since my hubby had to go away for work. I took care of myself – a day at the beach, some good food, and a nice pedicure – and it’s amazing how some good “self-love” can really make you feel better.

So, where am I now?  I’m actually kinda keen to see where my va-jay-jay’s at and give it another go.  I have an appointment with my physiotherapist tomorrow.  Not sure how that will go, but I’m prepared for whatever happens.


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It hurts…

Today….my heart hurts.

And I am loathe to write that because I have promised myself that this blog would be as positive as possible at all times.  But I can’t ignore it any longer today.  If I have learned one thing about myself over the past few years, is that the more I acknowledge and confront things through writing, the better I will feel.

So, I’m apologizing in advance for the lack of positivity in today’s post because I just don’t have it in me.

Last night, I had a panic attack.  While hubby and were doing homework. While I had a dilator inside me. I don’t really know what went wrong, but I suspect it’s because I allowed myself to move to far, too fast; I didn’t listen to myself.

We had an appointment with our sex therapist yesterday which actually went really well.  We spent a lot of time talking about “the plan” – more or less a timeline that I’ve had in my own head, which comfortably details the path to intercourse. Sometimes I forget that these plans are only in my own head, and I forget to verbalize them to hubby.

We also talked about a fear I’ve been having lately. I have pretty much completely avoided any sexual situations with hubby because I’m afraid.  I know that my body and my nervous reactions to sex have been changing because of the physio.  Things have been loosening up, as I become more comfortable.  But my biggest fear is getting into a sexual situation and then having “slippage” of some kind that would involve accidental penetration.  While I am confident that I could physically handle it (maybe with a bit of pain), I don’t know that I could emotionally. We’re learning that it’s very important that I have a choice when it comes to my sexuality and sexual encounters.

So, this is why I continue to follow my safe and comfortable path.  Because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I don’t want any surprises along the way.  I’m fearful that an accidental penetration might result in a major emotional set-back (aka. panic attacks), which, in turn, would result in a physical set-back. So, I continue along my safe path.

Last night, I got home from a yoga class and hubby (being a good and “dedicated to the plan” hubby) had set up our “homework station.” So, even though I was feeling exhausted and emotionally drained from a rather tiring and frustrating yoga class, I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers.  So, I bounded into homework, asking that we keep it short and sweet – we’d just do number 6 and the blue one and be done with it.

I think that might have been a bad attitude to start with. Number 6 went in ok, but I knew when we were done that I didn’t really want to move on to the blue one. I was tired and not doing it because I wanted to, but because I felt I  had to. But I also knew we would be out the next night and likely wouldn’t do homework at all.  So I pushed forward.  Onto the blue. About an inch or two in, I got a sharp, shooting pain in my vagina.

And it all went downhill from there.

I feel like I lose all semblance of control over my emotions when a panic attack hits.  All I am capable of doing is crying.  Long, choking, can’t-catch-my-breath crying. I can’t think straight.  I can’t rationalize my way out of it.  All I can do is succumb to it and hope that my surrender makes it all be over sooner.

I couldn’t look at my dilators.  I couldn’t stand the thought of being naked from the waist down. I didn’t even want to acknowledge what hubby and I had just been doing. It was painful and embarrassing and terrifying. I just wanted to curl up into a ball in warm, flannel pj’s and just be held while I cried it out.

I fell asleep and my heart hurt.  I woke up this morning and for the briefest instant, I felt fine.  And then the ache in my chest set in again, and for the better part of the day, I have pushed it down, refused to talk about it and ignored what happened.  I know I need to deal with it.  This is the first step.

I have no idea if/how this panic attack will affect our further progress. I just know that it’s weighing on my mind and my body and I need it not to be.

I don’t know how many regular readers I have out there, but if you’ve encountered this post today, please send your happy thoughts my way. Has anyone else had sex-related panic attacks? How have you handled them?

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Sorry Mom!

I’ve been quiet on the blogging front.  I feel like I say that more often than not when I post here. Truth is, things have been going really well in the wonderful world of dilating, and I haven’t really felt that I’ve had much to say.

That’s only partly true.

Yes, things have been going well in the wonderful world of dilating. But there’s another reason why I haven’t been posting.

I shared this blog with my mom and my sister.

And mom – I love you to bits, you know that. But I now feel somewhat embarrassed to post here.  It’s silly, I know.  But every time I think of something to write about, I think about mom reading it.  And even though I know you are SUPER supportive and amazing, I still hesitate a bit.

Anyways, I wanted to be honest and get that out there.  And let you (and everyone else) know that I’m deciding to ignore that (ha!) and trust that you (and my sister) are smart enough, and self-aware enough to know what your comfort levels are, in terms of reading this blog.

So, from now, I’m letting ‘er rip! (and maybe let’s avoid talking about some of the more personal stuff face-to-face because that might completely mortify me!)

That being said, I don’t really have anything earth-shattering to share with everyone today.  Been continuing to work with my physiotherapist using number 6, the Cookie Monster and number 7.  Number 6 is almost easy – yay! The blue cookie monster is still slightly painful (damn those bulbous tips!), but it’s getting better.  And yesterday, number 7 went in all the way.  Felt like my insides could not possible stretch any further (how in HELL does anyone ever push a BABY through there?!?!?!), but progress still!

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Number 7!

Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7!

(only halfway in but still….)

Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7! Number 7!

Major strides at pelvic physio yesterday, moving past the blue Cookie Monster to the dreaded, final, Number 7 dilator.  And yes, it was only halfway in, but there was celebrating last night with a bottle of wine and a Dairy Queen blizzard.


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Slow and Steady Wins the Race….Right?

So, I’m back on the dilating bandwagon.  Full force, I might add. My physio has tasked me with doing homework EVERY DAY (I think it might be because I cried at my last appointment when she mentioned having children – because, as I mentioned before, everybody’s makin’ babies).

But why did I fall off the wagon, you ask? A stinkin’ UTI (translation: urinary tract infection).  It’s the second one I’ve ever had, BUT the 1st one I ever had was only a few months prior.  So, not only was I in peeing hell, but I felt like I was on an emotional “you’re never meant to have sex, you moron” rollercoaster.  Add to that the fact that the antibiotics somehow made me unbearably tired, to the point where as soon as 4pm rolled around, I was out like a light most days. And then immediately after my UTI cleared up, I got my period.

So much for dilating and accommodating.

And I hate writing about all of that because it sounds like a whole bunch of excuses. Which, to be fair, it is. No one wants to be putting anything into their va-jay-jay when it burns when you pee.

But it was more than that for me….my vag pretty much went into shock.  And I turned into an emotional tortoise, pulled way back into my shell and moving at a snail’s pace. I was not in the mood for homework, both physically and mentally, and I honestly started thinking that maybe I’m just not cut out for this.  Maybe these UTI’s and vaginismus and panic attacks are all signs that I’m just not meant to enjoy a normal sex life.  And maybe I’m just not meant to be a mother.

But, y’see, that’s unacceptable to me.  I am meant to be a mother.  And although it’s harder for me to convince myself of this – I know that I deserve to have a normal sex life.

So, big deal….I’m an emotional tortoise.  But slow and steady wins the race, right?

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Toys in my Purse

I have become *that* girl….you know, the one that carries 4 dildos in her purse?

What? You mean, you don’t know people like that?  Weird….

Anyways, I realized the other day that I don’t really have anyone to share that ridiculous tidbit of information with in my real life.  And when did I realize this?  When I was standing in line at Subway, fishing my wallet out of my purse, and trying not to flash the cashier with my stash of 3 dilators and one giant blue Cookie Monster dildo.  I had just come from yet another appointment with my pelvic physiotherapist, and my purse is the most convenient place to stash my wares.

And I just find it funny! And I have no one to tell – except you fine people!

I don’t keep the toys in my purse at all times, but every now and then I giggle to myself as I’m standing in front of the teller at the bank, or going into a meeting, or having dinner with my 87-year-old aunt – because I’M CARRYING 4 DILDOS IN MY PURSE.

Oh, the secrets we keep.

P.S. Sorry for not writing lately.  I fell off the dilating wagon, ’cause regular life/chaos took over.  But I’m back!

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Everybody’s Makin’ Babies

I’ve been lacking in motivation lately.  And I’m trying to stay positive, but it can get difficult.

It seems like everyone I know is getting pregnant and popping out babies lately.  I remember a few years ago, it seemed like everyone was getting married.  I went to wedding, after wedding, after wedding, and spent gobs of money on bridal showers, stagettes, wedding gifts etc.

Now everyone has moved on to baby-making.  The baby shower invites are coming fast and furious. And I know that I’m getting closer myself, but sometimes, it just feels like I’ll never get there, y’know?

Last night, hubby and I finally did our pelvic floor homework, after literally weeks of us not making it a priority.  But as I mentioned in my last post, my physiotherapist has gotten ridiculously popular lately, and I’m not in to see her again for almost 3 weeks.  So, the work must be done on our own.

And although everything went well (we worked with the magnificent blue Cookie Monster, and hubby was impressed that I “took it like a champ” – ha!), I’m still feeling discouraged.  I know I still have many baby-makin’ years ahead of me, but I’m not gonna lie.  It unnerves me to think that I’m 32 years old, and I don’t have kids yet. And who’s to say that once we do start having intercourse, that we’ll be able to get pregnant easily?

It would be a cruel, cruel joke if the universe decided to make conception difficult. Y’hear that, universe?  I’d like at least some part of this to be easy please!

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Totally Tubular

My pelvic physiotherapist is rad. I love her to pieces.

But I need to stop telling people how awesome she is.  Because apparently she is now booked a month in advance.  And I couldn’t get my next appointment with her for another 3 weeks.


Looks like hubby and I have some homework to do. We’ve sort of fallen off the homework train lately. What with having houseguests, and my period, and trips away etc. etc. etc, we’ve literally not done homework together in weeks.  And it really does affect things.

I went to physio yesterday, having not done homework since my last appointment (the joyous Cookie Monster appointment, that I wrote about here), and things were definitely more difficult. Lesson learned.

But every time I got to physio, I learn something new and amazing about my vagina.  For example, yesterday, I learned that I am particularly sensitive on the lower left side of the entrance to my va-jay-jay because there is a small remnant of my hymen left there.  And anytime anything goes in/out of there, it rubs against it and gets irritated. Huh!

A few weeks ago, my physio was telling me about my amazing fallopian tubes.  Apparently fallopian tubes are note actually attached to your ovaries.  They are literally just floating around in there, and they are hormonally attracted to your ovaries when you release an egg.  Those crazy fallopian tubes free-float in space and move to wherever the egg is.  So, if you only release an egg out of one ovary, both fallopian tubes will float over to that egg. CRAZY!

Apparently the female reproduction system is pretty amazing. Even mine, with all it’s complications and quirks. Still learning to love that va-jay-jay :)

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