Bladder Reflections

I always check in on Autumn one last time before I go to bed.  I’ll go in and stand over her crib and watch her sleep.  I imagine at some point it will start to freak her out.  I know it would freak me out to have this huge shadow standing over me while I tried to sleep.  If she’s really still, I’ll stroke her cheek or lightly poke her in the belly to get her to move.  I dont’ think I’ll ever get past being worried about SIDS, at least not until the girl can sit bolt upright and say, “Stop it Mom, you’re driving me nuts! Go to bed already!”

Last night she was on her back and looked very comfortable.  I thought how nice it must be to be able to sleep so soundly and not have to get up to go to the bathroom.  I looked at where her diaper bulged underneath her pajamas and envisioned the kind of peacful bliss that must accompany letting it all flow out whenever it needs to.

Last year at this time I was getting up at least once during the night to pee.  Towards the end it was two times or more.  I understand that’s not bad compared to what other women go through (hourly!) but it still sucked.  I inherited my mother’s bladder and pregnant or not, when I need a bathroom I need one stat.  My mother and I know where all the bathrooms are in every store, restaurant or business in town.  Target seems to have the pee pee affect on both of us because every time we go there we have to bolt to the bathroom before getting in line at the checkout.  I wonder if there’s a clinical term for that.  How about Retail Induced Urination?  That sounds about right.

When I was in the hospital about to give birth, the nurses were prepping me for the c-section and told me they were going to insert a catheter.  They said they usually save this procedure until after the patient has been given an epidural or a spinal block but since they were all there anyway…Well that right there should have been a clue that getting a plastic tube shoved up my urethra was not going to be a walk in the park.

Let me tell you though, that catheter was like a gift from God.  After weeks, nay months, of being a slave to my bladder, that little plastic tube was worth every second of excruciating pain I went through to have it inserted.  For nearly thirty-six hours I didn’t have the urge to pee at all.  The nurses would come in and change my bag and I was very happy to let them.  When it was time for me to get up and start moving around I was told the catheter needed to come out.  It was like saying goodbye to a maid or a babysitter or some other laborer who does all the hard work for you while you go out and cavort in the Land of No Bathrooms.

So in my dream world I’d be in front of the TV on a comfortable couch.  “Law and Order” would be on every channel and they’d never show repeats.  I’d have an endless supply of Snackwell’s cookies and Costco cake and a catheter so that I wouldn’t have to miss a second of Jack McCoy’s riveting closing arguments.