I am Tamiya…

…the conversation almost always turns to sex!

For the last 6 years or so, that’s been one conversation that I couldn’t exactly partake in – despite having two kids under 4 years old…

I suffer from a condition called Vaginismus. Let me just state here that its not an STD, its not contagious, I don’t smell funny, look ill or eat any differently than you do – I just experience rather painful sex. There are no visible symptoms and therefore diagnosis of vaginismus is rather difficult.

Wikipedia (and numerous other sites) describe vaginismus as the following:
“Vaginismus, sometimes anglicized vaginism is the German name for a condition which affects a woman’s ability to engage in any form of vaginal penetration, includingsexual intercourse, insertion of tampons, and the penetration involved in gynecological examinations. This is the result of a conditioned reflex of the pubococcygeus muscle, which is sometimes referred to as the “PC muscle”. The reflex causes the muscles in the vagina to tense suddenly, which makes any kind of vaginal penetration—including sexual intercourse—painful or impossible.”

Due to the nature of the condition, its location and its lack of visible symptoms, diagnosis of vaginismus seldom occurs early on, and most doctors overlook the possibility of vaginismus as the cause of discomfort. An example: The first doctor I went to for ‘The pain I feel when we have sex – I was in a stable, long term relationship, and happy at the time – which feels like a burning/tearing sensation just on the inside of the vaginal opening’, the good doctor suggested we cut into the perineum slightly and thereby enlarging the opening, which should fix the problem. Nevermind the fact that for a couple of years before that, since the start of my sexual activeness, I hadn’t experience any symptoms like these. Even with the guy I was with at the time, our sexlife started out great, and then suddenly one day, there the pain was.

Nevertheless, not knowing any better, I agreed to the operation and my perineum was cut. It wasn’t a particularly painful operation and after the 6 week recovery period, it seemed like there was a slight change in the levels of pain. However, at the 6 month follow up consultation, it was back to the way it was before having had the operation. The good doctor then kindly informed me it was ‘all in my head’…

“A vaginismic woman does not consciously control the spasm. The vaginismic reflex can be compared to the response of the eye shutting when an object comes towards it. The severity of vaginismus and the pain during penetration, including sexual penetration, varies from woman to woman.”

So ‘No, doc, seems it’s NOT all in my head!’ I never went back to that doctor.

Then I plodded along through life, had break ups and started new relationships, yet sex remained painful for me. I started believing I was a freak of nature and/or the people who claim to have constant amazing sex, MUST be lying! No one can have such good sex all the time! And if they can, why can’t I?! And it also crossed my mind that perhaps the good doctor was right and it is all in my head and I’m a sexual looney bin…

The time came to see a gynae again, I found a new doctor and eventually told him of my problem. ‘Aahhh, you suffer from vaginal dryness, and that’s the cause of all your discomfort!’ He gave me a prescription for some thrush cream and a female lubricant that I had to apply internally once a week. I have to admit, that made a bigger difference than the operation had, but medical aid didn’t pay for the lubricant, and it was quite expensive to buy on a monthly basis, so eventually we just stopped buying and using it. The pain returned in full force!

By this time, I had resigned myself to a very meagre sex life (even though I was in my sexual prime!) and that I would HAVE to make a plan to just grin and bear it now and again for TD’s sake! Shame, the poor man can’t be blamed for this, and I can’t deny him this intimacy because of MY sexual hang ups! But I really and truly have to commend TD for his patience and understanding and support and love throught our time together where this is concerned. I’m sure I’ve frustrated him on more than one occassion. And to make up for it, every now and then I’d give in, we’d do the deed – in the dark or from behind, so he couldn’t see the pain on my face – which resulted in us falling pregnant twice and having two gorgeous little boys!

I had resigned myself to this fate, until a couple of months ago. While doing some arb research on Google, I came across a site that actually described my symptoms and experiences in such a way, that I couldve written them all myself! FINALLY, I had a term for what was wrong with me! And I wasn’t the only one! And its more common than you think! AND I wasn’t a nutcase!!

Based on what I’ve read on the topic so far, it would seem I have Stage 2 vaginismus. Its bad, but apparently, it could’ve been worse…

AND, there are possible treatments for this condition!!! BOTOX!! Who woulda thunk it?

“Botox is a relatively new treatment for vaginismus, first described in 1997 [8]. Ghazizadeh and Nikzad reported on the use of botulinum toxin in the treatment of refractory vaginismus in 24 patients. In this study, Dysport (a type of Botox) 150-400 mIU (Ipsen Ltd, United Kingdom) was used. 23 patients were able to have vaginal examinations one week post procedure showing little or no vaginismus. One patient refused vaginal examination and did not attempt coitus. Of the 23 patients, 18 (75%) achieved satisfactory intercourse, 4 (17%) had mild pain and one patient was unable to have intercourse because of her husband’s impotence. A second dose of Dysport was needed on one patient. There were no recurrences during the 2-24 month follow-up period.[9]A controlled study using Botox for one group of patients was compared to saline in another. 8 women treated with the Botox were able to achieve satisfactory intercourse whereas 5 women who were injected with saline controls showed no response. None of the 8 women who had Botox required any further treatment. The procedure is simple, easy, cost-effective, not time-consuming and can be achieved on an outpatient basis. No complications were reported.[10]Pacik reported the use of intravaginal Botox, and progressive dilation under sedation in 20 patients. 12 of these patients were a Lamont level 4 primary vaginismus, the most severe form of vaginismus. He reports a 90%+ success rate of patients achieving intercourse in 2 weeks to 3 months. In this series there were no complications and no recurrences. [3]“

I found a doctor who specialises in Vaginal Rejuvenation, and practices at Linksfield Clinic. He’s been in the field for a good number of years. Even though his website doesn’t specifically state Vaginal Botox, it won’t hurt to ask him about it, or perhaps get a referral to a specialist that can help me.

Unfortunately, he’s out of the country until the 5th of October, so I have to wait until then before I can be sure of anything. Until then, I’ll live in hope – I can be fixed and have a happy sex life!!

Much love x 3

**Please note I am in no way an expert in this field nor am I a medical practitioner. Everything you’ve read here are based on my own research and is my own opinion. If you feel you suffer from vaginismus, please consult your own doctor for a proper diagnosis**

…finally arrived: 24 August 2010, 14:01

You know when you go to your Ob/Gyn, and you get to the waiting room, and it’s choc-a-bloc full of people and you realise the doc is running late and you hear those dreaded words ‘…pulled away to an emergency ceasarean…’ and you get pissed off because it now means you’re looking at about a 2 hour wait just to actually have your 5-minute consultation? Yeah, well on 24 August, *I* was that emergency ceasarean :/

Let me start at the beginning of the sequence of events:
On Monday night, the 23rd at about 9-ish, I started experiencing these fairly regular FOAD pains! Even worse than the ones I blogged about earlier. I haltingly suggested to TD that perhaps we should get a suitcase down, so that I can start packing our hospital bags. And perhaps we should look at timing the pains, cos I’m damned sure they ARE contractions and NOT your run of the mill Braxton Hicks… Also, our bags weren’t packed yet, because I was supposed to go in for my *Scheduled* C-section on the Thursday, so technically, I had 2 and a half more days to do all these last minute things. The doc even said at our previous visit the Friday before that the chances of AWeSome arriving any sooner than the Thursday were marginal at most. Not impossible, but quite improbable. Yeah, right?!

TD gets down a suitcase, and in between heaving and puffing, we try and time these pains as best we know how. Which isn’t really saying much, because we don’t actually know how because we didn’t think it necessary to know how because I was going in for a scheduled ceasarean, remember? It seems like they’re about 5 minutes or so apart, but we’re not quite sure whether its a constant 5 minutes, because in between I’m also trying to pack and remembering everything that needs to go in the bags and having a BBM chat with Bananaramagirl who’s helping me remember everything, that I forgot to let TD know when the pains stop or start…

Eventually, it seems as though the pains subside, and we all fall asleep. I change my mind about them from being actual contractions, to just being BH again – albeit very painful ones. That is, until 4:30 the following morning, when I actually get woken up by some sharp, extremely painful jabs in what seems to be my lower abdomen, right there where contractions are s’posed to be. Seeing as its so early, and I’ve already packed the bags, I actually try to focus on the pains and time them myself. They’re 4 minutes apart. I lie there, timing them, until 6:10 when TD’s alarm goes off. The first thing I say, ‘I think we might need to go to the hospital… They can always send us home, right?’ So he gets ready in 5 minutes flat, arranges with his folks to come down to our house and check on a sleeping Boobah, and I make my waddling way to the car in my PJs.

On the way to the hospital, I phone my Moederloef and hit a slight wobbly. I think just saying it out loud, made the possibility all the more of a reality. That may have also been the first time I tweeted about the happenings. (I was a bit more cautious this time, because last time I thought I was in labour, and sent everyone into a panic, it turned out to be a false alarm…) We also phoned the hospital while we were on our way, so they knew to expect me when I got there.

We arrived at the hospital just as the nurses were due for a shift change. Good thing or bad thing, I don’t know, but fortunately, the main nurse that tended to me the most, was a real sweetheart, and I felt very comfortable with her. But also, true’s Bob and Murphy’s Law and such, the contractions have sort of subsided to an almost gone state just as we reach the maternity ward and I ended up feeling like a fake for being there…
Nevertheless, they take me through to a room and strap that monitor on my belly and we are left alone for a while so that I can be monitored. TD and I make stupid, nonsensical jokes at and about each other to pass the time and I also spend some time on Twitter and BBM giving updates and such.

While we were waiting, the nurses arranged for my admission forms to be brought through and I again needed to answer a gajilion questions and sign at least half that many forms. When that was done, they came to check my printout, and apparently I was still having mild contractions (even though I wasn’t particularly feeling anything). Wasn’t labour-worthy ones, but they were there, and quite regular if the printout is to be believed. Except the bits where I flatlined, because I coughed and moved the sensor block… Oops :/

Last examination required though – the internal one, where they check to see if and/or how far you’ve dilated etc. Oh.My.FUCK did THAT hurt!!! But I grinned and beared it (because what else was I s’posed to do?) And lo and behold, I’m 1cm dilated! Wait, whaaaaaat?? Yip, I was actually in active labour. That really helped me not feel entirely like the over-active-imagination, panicky fraud from earlier. I was in labour, and not imagining it, and deserved to be there…

So my nursie goes to phone the doctor and update him on my status. At that same moment, I let my Moederloef know, and also the whole of Twitter. The tons of good wishes and support and kind words and thumbs being held was overwhelming, and REALLY helped to make me feel extra special on that very momentous day! Thank, friends in my phone! For loving us and supporting us!

Anyhoodle, eveeeeeeentually, my nurse comes back to tell me that the doc reckons we’ll sommer do the c-section that day, at 12. Instead of risking me going into full blown labour, we’ll do it and get it over with in a calm and relaxed fashion.

Aww, crapperpoodle! I *didn’t* shave my koek!? I still had 2 days in which to do it! I could already feel my face flush red with the thought of one of the nurses being extremely up close and personal with my very shy lady bits! At least I washed her really well before we went to the hospital, so that sort of helped me save face. But luckily, it seems the hospital got with the times, and these days they use Veet, instead of the cheapest disposable razors on the block!

When the time came, the one nurse came in, gave me my hospital gown, and once I dressed, just smeared a line of Veet where the doctor was going to make the cut. 15 minutes later, she came back and wiped it clean and I was ready for the doctor.

Right, it was almost 12 o’clock. We wait, and wait, and wait some more in nervous anticipation. The minute hand on the clock seems to be ticking slower and slower. Eventually, at 12:45 a nurse reappears and I can ask her when the hell I’m actually going in now! My nerves were frazzled enough already! “Oh, didn’t they tell you? The doctor is running a bit late, so you’ll be going in at 13:00 instead.” What the hell? No, no one said anything and it *would’ve* been nice to be kept informed. But anyhoodle, if that’s the way its gonna be, so be it.

13:00 rolls by and passes with a faint wiff trailing behind… Aggenee, are we going to do this again? Fortunately, about 15 minutes later, the porter arrives to wheel me to theatre. Lovely gentleman. In the theatre holding area, where you have to wait before they actually take you into the operating room, we meet the anesthetist. Young guy, very pleasant. He proceeds to explain the details of what he’s going to do to me, which basically entails him stabbing me in the back with a needle to numb my lower body within an inch of its life. Sounds charming, right? But I’ve been there before, so I know its not quite that scary.

Have I mentioned that this time I refused them putting in the catheter tube before they did my spinal? Well, I did. Caused some drama with this particular request, but I won in the end! There was NO way in hell that I was gonna sit bent over for 5 minutes while they try to stab my back with a needle, with a tube bending inside of a most-sensitive bit again. Like last time! It hurts more than you can imagine. And a good thing I won this battle, cos I had to sit bent over for a very loooooong time again while the anesthetist got ready before doing his thing.

They wheeled me into the actual operating room, while TD was whisked away to go put on some daddy-scrubs and made to wait outside while they prepped me for surgery. It felt like forever till I was ready and they let him in to hold my hand.

They put up a screen again, so I couldn’t actually see what the hell was happening on the surgery side. I got injected with some wonderful drugs, got given an oxygen pipe and TD held my hand. I clung to his as if it were the last thing on earth.

The doctor started cutting. I could feel it. I could *actually* feel him cutting me and it hurt, a lot! I said something about it, but because I was so high on drugs, I don’t think they totally got what I meant… They thought I was talking about the fact that you can actually feel what the doc is doing, without the pain, but I wasn’t. I *could* feel a lot of it, *with* the pain! I was even crying, but again they thought it was due to the drugs. Wasn’t the most pleasant experience of my life! So I just shut up, cried my tears silently and let them get on with it so they could get it over with!

But the pain was worth it in the end! At 14:01, I layed eyes on the most beautiful baby I have ever seen! He was just gorgeous and the only other time I’ve EVER felt so proud in my entire life, was the day of Boobah’s birth.

Alexander William Stone, known on Twitter as #AWeSome, clocked in at 2.93kg and 48cm. His 1 minute APGAR score was 9/10 and at 5 minutes he scored 10/10. And he had hair. Long ones too! And dark, so you couldn’t miss it.

World, meet my newest, littlest man:

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First picture of #AWeSome