What happens to your HooHah after having a Baby

Disclaimer: This post contains graphic words which may invoke graphic images in your mind of what can happen to someone’s hoohah after having a baby. If you are sensitive about certain things, don’t read this post.

The mention of natural birth isn’t very scary, it’s the after-thought that scares you the most. That image of actually pushing out a living, breathing human being. That’s the scary part.

For me, there wasn’t a question. I was going to have my baby naturally (as long as there weren’t any complications) Everyone said“ Go watch some videos to prepare your mind for it.” Ahh. Nooope.

I couldn’t bring myself to it. To begin with, I was scared of being too scared. It wouldn’t have been a good idea to put myself through that knowing I was actually going to be in the same situation soon.

I couldn’t bring myself to watching a baby come out of another woman’s hoohah if I wasn’t even prepared to think about a baby coming out of mine.

So, throughout my entire pregnancy, I ignored all thoughts of what it meant to have a natural birth. I focused only on the fact that at the end of it all, I would have my baby in my arms. I opted not to worry about the ‘how’ or more specifically, through what medium.

You see, people tell you what to expect, but they never REALLY tell you what to expect. 

When I went into labour (which is a whole other story), I was focused on only one thing, getting my baby girl out. By any means necessary. 

I pushed and pushed and pooped a little (TMI) and pushed again. At that point, the nurse said, “You’re going to tear, I’m going to have cut you.” After she made the cut, I pushed again and there she was, staring up at me with her daddy’s eyes. I can’t describe that feeling.

That moment when they placed her on my chest, I forgot, just for a few seconds that my vajajay had been torn open. Literally.

No one hinted at how big that cut was, but I felt it.

I did receive a lot of stitches, I don’t know how much. They never told me and I never asked. The stitches themselves were painful. Even the numbing shot they gave was painful. At one point, the numbing shot had worn off and the doctor told me that it didn’t make sense giving me the numbing shot again. So, I had to endure the remainder of the procedure (the stitching) without being numbed. (WTF??)

That was an experience. It hurt like a mother effer.

I didn’t have the strength or energy to shower. Neither did I have the help. It was, after all, sometime after 12 in the morning, visiting hours had ended a long time ago.

The next morning was brutal. Physically. My lower body felt like I had done 100 squats, burpees, longes and whatever other lower body workout that you can think of. I could hardly stand, much less walk.

My hoohah hurt. A lot.

I waited until my mother came to see to take a shower. Why? Because I couldn’t manage to do it on my own. She was the one who bathed me. 

Everything grossed me out. The blood, oh the blood. It shouldn’t have been a big deal seeing as I am accustomed to periods. Then again, I never liked periods anyway, no woman does. Unless you were worried you were pregnant, then that’s the only time a woman is ever happy to see her period.

I had to wear pads that were more like diapers than anything else. I don’t exactly remember what a diaper feels like, but I imagine that those come pretty close. 

They told me to soak myself in hot (as hot as I can stand) salted water twice a day, for at least half an hour, for at least six weeks or until the stitches fell out.

I did. Initially, it was quite painful getting into the bath. Sitting that low was the most brutal part of it. However, after a while, it became very soothing and each day I began to look forward to my bath times. 

Each bath I had I would tell myself that when I felt stronger and in less pain, I would get a mirror and look. I didn’t.

Then when I saw the stitches starting to fall out, I would again encourage myself to get a mirror and look. I didn’t.

I never looked. How could I? I didn’t know the type of reaction that would come by looking at the horror show that was possibly happening in my panties. I was too scared of finding out.

My imagination was my best friend then, because, at least it showed me the pretty-ish version of what had happened down there. I was better off not knowing the real truth.

I prayed (not really) that my husband never wanted to touch me again. How was he going to react to it? 

So, I hid. For a long time. Poor thing.

I believe I bled for approximately 4-8 weeks. I didn’t feel fully healed until around week 12 and even then, I still worried about tearing. Note, I’m not saying this is how long it takes for everyone, for me it was just when I felt physically better about my hoohah.

After the bleeding had ended and everything had healed enough, I began to feel really happy about one thing. Want to guess what?

Let me give you a second.

Well, for a while, my period wouldn’t be showing its ugly big head. For how long? I didn’t care. Like every other woman, I hated periods, especially because of the fact that I used to have very painful periods. Let me reiterate, VERY painful periods. Now, my periods just come and go without so much as even a twinge of pain. If nothing else, I am definitely happy about that. More so grateful.

Side note, I didn’t see my period until July 2019. So technically, I hadn’t seen my period for approximately 18 months. That was pretty awesome.

So, after all that drama with my below area, some good things had come out of it. For one, the most important; my daughter and the other, I don’t have painful periods anymore.

I still haven’t taken a look to this day.

So, to answer the question “What happens to your hoohah after a baby and how it looks?” I really can’t say.

If you want to hear the full details of my delivery story, stay tuned.

Also, don’t be shy. Comment below your thoughts or share your story to me personally.