What About Fanny?

Gemma Walker - 18 Sep 16

My husband and I are trying for a baby.

I should probably point out that we already have one, and what I actually want to write about is my vagina.

My vagina and I have always been best mates. Previously I always kept her looking good with painful trips to the salon and dressed her in lovely frilly pants. She thanked me by ensuring that if I just concentrated and squeezed at the right time during sex, I could orgasm on demand.

Luckily for my husband we met at 20 when doing it three of four times a day was pretty standard. Over the years we slowed down of course but whenever we did it, it always worked a treat thank-you-very-much.

11 years later and on the day I was fortunate enough to deliver my beautiful baby girl, she inconveniently changed her mind about coming out at the last minute and was eventually delivered ‘episiotomy forceps’. Though I was blissfully 100% numb from the waist down, a quick glace at what was going on between my legs made me fear for my fanny.

After that, I didn’t let my husband anywhere near me for a good 6 months. When we did try, the pain was so severe we had to stop. I tried to power through for a few weeks with no success and decided the grown up thing to do would be to go to the GP. They would have the answers and would help get me back on top (sorry).

Sadly it wasn’t so. My first visit provided no explanation, a head tilt and what I suspect was meant to be a sympathetic expression. I was fobbed off and told to persist. I tried for a couple of weeks but after another night of tears and seeing my husband devastated that he was causing me such physical pain, I went back again. More head tilting but this time a numbing gel to stop me from feeling anything. Not ideal when one is having sex I thought but still, I’ll give it a go.

Of course it didn’t work. The pain was inside me and seemingly not in a specific area. Every time he tried to get it in it felt covered in shards of glass and no matter how much he pushed, my own biological Berlin Wall, (complete with rings of barbed wire on top) had seemingly sealed me up forever.

Clearly I’m not embarrassed to talk about this, but despite my willingness to ask questions I was offered little professional help. I was advised that if I was going to have more children I might as well leave sorting it until I was done. Nobody seemed to spot the glaring problem with that approach and I was furious no one seemed to think it was worth dealing with now. Worse, it made me feel like I was selfish for wanting it fixed at all.

As a well practiced nag I eventually managed to get to a clinic where a wonderful no nonsense consultant listened, nodded and asked me to drop my pants. 15 minutes later my legs were in stirrups and my lungs were full of delicious gas and air as she snipped out the episiotomy scar tissue that was causing me so so so much pain.

I’m not going to fib and say that everything down there is now as it was. If I’m honest it still hurts when we initially ‘get going’ and my ability to have as good a time as I used to has been dialed down a notch (or two). But being able to actually do it at all and be physically close to my husband again, not to mention my wish to get pregnant, mean I’m just relieved I can.

Overall I been left feeling sad that my wish to have a healthy and pain free sex life was seemingly perceived to be such an indulgence. That I was expected to write off such a large part of myself and grit my teeth, regardless of the effect it might have on my relationship, my confidence or my ability to grow our family.

I have read heart-breaking comments from women whose husbands think they are making this up and are consequently close to divorce. Women who haven’t been able to have their smear tests done because the pain was too severe. Woman who have absolutely no idea what to do.

So if your fanny friend is suffering and is scared to socialise again, if you’re keeping her in the giant M&S knickers you bought post partum and her hairdo is creeping southwards for fear of encounter, please don’t be embarrassed to stand up for her. Its what a real mate would do.

Gemma Walker

View profile for posts, events and more info