I staggered out of the den and ran upstairs. There, my usually calm and collected non-panicking husband was holding my youngest who was indeed having trouble breathing. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. The operator answered quickly, got my information, and stayed on the phone with me until the police arrived.

They arrived in 3 minutes and 38 seconds. Or less, really. (I know this because I looked at my cell phone log on the way home and that was the call duration.) I waved them in and they ran upstairs to assess my little girl. The paramedics arrived soon after. The first one into the room called it: “She’s got croup.” He told us she would be okay, but that since she was having problems breathing we’d be taking a ride in the ambulance to the local hospital.

My husband grabbed my socks and sneakers. I put slippers on the baby, and we went to the hospital. I went with the baby in the rig. My husband followed in the car once my sister got to our house to stay with Big Girl. Throughout the entire process, the entire ride, all the questions and answers and during the time I held the oxygen mask over my poor sweetheart’s face, I kept praying. Hoping it was croup, while at the same time sitting there in disbelief. How could this be happening? Babies get croup. Toddlers get croup. Children who are going on four do not get croup. Not unless they’ve been getting it since they were babies or toddlers. And yet as soon as we got to the hospital the doctor made the same diagnosis as the EMT. Croup.

Once they got us in a room the doctor continued the moist oxygen treatment and gave her an oral dose of steroids. We stayed at the hospital until her breathing was stable and she could talk. (When my husband went in to check on her, he told me on the way home, he got hysterical not only because she couldn’t breathe, but because she couldn’t speak, either.)

She’s sleeping in our bed right now. My husband, who has never, ever allowed our children to sleep in our bed, was the one to suggest it. I’m exhausted so I am going to join them. But I still can’t believe it. Little Girl has croup. Thank goodness. I hope she sleeps better than I do tonight.

The sign that sealed my fate.

Running. It’s never been a favorite activity. I have always preferred group fitness classes with music, people, camaraderie, and energy that inspire me to do my best. Running, in my opinion, is monotonous, boring, and hard. And yet this February I embarked on a new running program — something I never thought I would do.

The signs went up at the end of January. I was already in a funk, upset about a March due date that would remind me of the baby we lost. I needed a goal. I needed something that would take me out of my head completely. I needed to give birth to something, even if that something was the idea of me crossing a finish line.

There were two events to train for: a half marathon or 10k. Although I thought I could handle the half aerobically, I wanted to be kind to myself. I didn’t want to be pushing so hard for a goal. (Been there, done that birthing Big Girl.) I wanted it to be as joyful and simple as my labor with Little Girl. It was decided. I would train for the 10k.

The first day I ran was tough. I went outside all by myself and just started running. It was not pretty. I sucked wind. I hated it. I questioned my ability to run two miles much less 6.2. I couldn’t understand why it was so hard given my daily exercise regimen. And yet I decided to reserve judgment until my first group run. Maybe I was doing something wrong. I’m so glad I did.

It was a beautiful 48 degrees on that March morning. I got to the local preserve and was happy to see that the 10k group was comprised of eight people of different ages, sizes, abilities, and shapes. Our trainer told us to start out easy, so we started running the same way a baby starts walking: one step at a time nice and slow. Still, I was really nervous. Was it going to be too hard? Would I be sucking wind, counting the minutes until we hit our goal that day? (A two mile run in the preserve.) I didn’t and wasn’t. Running with a group meant we were moving at a slower pace than what I had done on my own. It was relaxing and surprisingly fun. I got a rush of adrenaline when we hit the one mile marker and turned around. I was completely glowing by the time we got back to our starting mark.

In the months that have followed I have run farther and faster than I ever expected to run. I went out and bought gear — new sneakers, a water belt, and a new hat. I have been sore in places I never expected to hurt. (Why didn’t anyone tell me my obliques would hurt after running?) I have surprised myself, too. My legs don’t ache as much as I expected, and I’m stronger than I expected. So far, running isn’t living up to any of my preconceived notions about it.

My original due date passed in March. I was very sad. I cried. I still cry every once in a while when I see a swelling belly or a newborn sitting in a carriage. But the promise of my new due date — the date that I will cross that 10k finish line — pulls me back from the brink of despair. I remember my strength. I remember the joy I feel as my body moves through the air. I picture myself crossing that finish line in May. And since everyone can use a new goal in life, I signed up for another race. It’s a November half marathon.

During the summer we got sunburned and bug-bitten and drank out of the hose when we were thirsty. In the winter we played outside until our noses were pink and our mittens were covered in mini snowballs. In short, we had a lot of fun without spending a dime. My mother, I’m sure, didn’t realize she was following the American Academy of Pediatrics recommendation to encourage children to play outside as much as possible. She didn’t know she was helping to battle childhood obesity. She just thought that kids should run and play.

A new study from the Seattle Children’s Research Institute found that — if I was a child today — my mother would be in the minority. According to the study, “nearly half of preschoolers in a sample representing four million U.S. children did not have even one parent-supervised outdoor play opportunity per day.” The study, “The frequency of parent-supervised outdoor play of U.S. preschool age children,” was published last week in the Archives of Pediatric & Adolescent Medicine.

There were a few interesting stats in the study. For instance, girls were less likely to spend time outdoors playing. Also, when kids do go outside it’s mostly mothers that are taking them. According to researchers, 44 percent of mothers report taking kids outside daily compared to only about a quarter (24 percent) of dads. Really scary: 15 percent of moms and 30 percent of dads didn’t take their kids outside even a few times per week. Kids of gym rats are luckier than the rest since their parents make outdoor play a priority. Mothers who exercised regularly (more than four times a week) were 50 percent more likely to take their child outside daily than those who never hit the gym.

One of the authors of the study, Pooja S. Tandon, M.D., wrote an excellent blog post about the research and about her own children. In the post, Resurrecting Outdoor Play Time, she explains that kids in many European countries spend three or four hours outside daily, which sounds a lot like my childhood. She also provides a few ideas to get kids outside more often. Here’s one thing she didn’t include: Don’t worry about having an activity or “something to do.” Kids, when given the chance, will find something to do.

Yesterday, while I worked my babysitter took the kids outside. The kids decided to go on a rock hunt, finding 20 different rocks in the backyard. Then they played a spy game, lurking behind trees while talking into pretend walkie talkies. Finally, they had running races, which my Big Girl won every time. I heard about it all when we were eating dinner together. (Another old fashioned habit that needs a revival!) Even though I wasn’t with them today, I know they made some memories that they will always remember. And that’s a good thing — body, mind, and soul.

We went into our first eye exam with the hopes that her eyes would be big enough to accommodate contact lenses. (Yes, the kid’s eyeball actually needs to be big enough to wear a lens.) My child has a big head and big brains and eyes to match, so we were good. The big issue, said the eye doctor, was going to be if Big Girl could touch her eye without freaking out. Good or bad, that put the success squarely in my daughter’s hands. Big Girl realized immediately that she needed to get her lens — she only needs vision correction in one of her eyes — in and out several times before she could take them home. The first tries were rough, to say the least.

Big Girl was shaking — literally. She couldn’t figure out how to keep her eye open. Once she did, she couldn’t get her finger with the lens on it close enough to her eye to get it in. We spent a good two hours at the doctor’s office before she had success, getting the lens in and out. Several times during those two hours, the woman working with Big Girl tried to get her to give up on lenses. I was fine with trying again in the future, but Big Girl was being stubborn. She was going to do it, she said. She just needed more practice. Okay, I said, we’d come back the next day to try again.

The next day was a little easier, but we still spent more than an hour at the office. Big Girl was able to get the lens in and out once or twice, but she was still shaking, and her eye was red. Again, the woman working with her we could wait six months and try again in the fall. I agreed, telling her there was no shame in waiting a while. Again, Big Girl told me no, she was going to do it. Since she still wasn’t comfortable enough with insertion and removal we set up another appointment two days later. When that morning came I was scheduled to be out on a training run, so my husband brought both girls to the eye doctor’s office. This time, I was told, Big Girl got her lens in on the first try and took it out pretty quickly, too. I got there just in time to see the smiles and hear the actual cheers all around — lots of them. She did it, and was thrilled. So was I. Big Girl was proficient enough with her lens to wear it home.

We weren’t out of the woods yet, though. The next day my husband and I had to attend a family member’s wake, so Big Girl put her lens in alone. Immediately after, we all jumped into the car, dropping Big Girl at a friend’s house while we went to a funeral home in the Bronx. A few hours later we picked her up and went to my brother’s house to celebrate his birthday. Around 6 p.m. it was time for Big Girl to take her lens out. (During the first week kids wear their lenses on a shortened schedule, adding an hour of wear every day.) She couldn’t do it, she said, after trying for more than 45 minutes. I won’t go through all the upsetting details (Big Girl crying, my mother screaming at me, the fight that ensued between me and my mother, my daughter’s extremely red eye). Instead, I’ll jump to the chase: Big Girl didn’t have a lens in her eye at all. She thought she put it in, but she didn’t. Sigh.

That night I told Big Girl she had to wait until she was nine to wear contact lenses. She was crushed, crying herself to sleep. My husband wisely intervened, telling me that by taking away her chance to try again, I was damaging her confidence. Okay, I said, we’ll try again with one rule in place: Big Girl had to let me check her eye every morning to make sure the lens was actually in there. She agreed.

That Friday we went to the eye doctor again for a re-check. We got a new trial lens — the old one dried out after she dropped it on my kitchen table — and started the process again. That was almost ten days ago. Since then Big Girl has been a contact lens whiz, putting them in and taking them out like a pro. She’s super-meticulous about washing her hands and storing her lenses. The best part is she’s bursting with new-found confidence. She is a girl on a mission. I am very impressed. Oh, and she can finally see now, which is also pretty important, right?

From the University’s press release: “Adults who consumed chocolate more frequently had a lower BMI than those who consumed chocolate less often.” This finding was especially interesting because the chocolate-eaters did not exercise more and actually took in more calories. Chocoholics like me (meaning people who ate at least five servings of chocolate weekly) weighed between five to seven pounds less than those who ate none, according to the study author, Beatrice A. Golomb, M.D., Ph.D.

The fact that chocolate is healthy isn’t surprising to me — or to researchers. Last year different researchers found that “high levels of chocolate consumption might be associated with a one third reduction in the risk of developing heart disease,” according to a study published on bmj.com. A March 2010 study in the European Heart Journal found that “just one small square of chocolate a day can lower your blood pressure and reduce your risk of heart disease.”

Researchers point to the multitude of antioxidants, polyphenols, and flavanols in the cocoa plant, which is a fruit in case you were wondering! So for anyone out there who is reading this and dreaming about chocolate: Go ahead, in moderation. Good news for all of us.

I got contact lenses when I was 12. I can still remember how excited I was to be rid of my coke-bottle glasses. (My eyesight is atrocious. My vision is 800/20 in the left eye and 750/20 in the right.) I was a diligent kid, and quickly learned how to put them in, take them out, and carefully disinfect them. Still, I was 12. On the cusp of being a teenager. There’s a big difference between eight and 12.

The reason I’m even contemplating such a move is that Big Girl is terrible about wearing her glasses. Her vision is 20/20 in her left eye. Her right eye is 20/60 — not terrible, but just bad enough that she says her vision is “blurry.” And yet she forgets to wear the glasses all the time. When she does wear them she will leave them places. I just found one of her three pairs — the new one that I paid $150 for, I might add — inside the couch. They had been missing for two months.

Recently, I came across a study out of Ohio State University that found “8- to 11-year-olds can handle the responsibility of contact lenses just as well as their older peers.” The study appeared in the journal, Optometry and Vision Science.

More details from the study: “Children wore their lenses an average of 11 hours a day by the end of the study. By the third month, nine of the 10 children reported that their vision was “pretty good” or “perfect”; all children but one said their eyes were “always comfortable” or “usually comfortable”; eight children said they had little to no problem putting in their contact lenses; and all children reported that they had little to no problem with taking the lenses out.”

Sounds good, right? But would my little girl, who is tightly-wound, sensitive, and a daydreamer be able to handle putting in and taking out lenses? And, as a parent, shouldn’t I just be more forceful about her wearing her glasses? Should I just give up without trying to get glasses-wearing compliance? I’m really not sure, which is why I’m taking to my blog to ask: What do you think about contacts for a child? Does your child wear lenses? How has it worked out? I’d like to know.

Cons: Contains seven grams of sugar, which is on the high side for something marketed as a “healthier” cereal.

My Big Girl is in an anti-cereal phase. She won’t eat her Joe’s Os anymore. She doesn’t like Puffins, she says. I like her to eat something in the morning, so I’ve been on a quest for a new cereal, buying anything I think she might like. I saw Crunchy Vanilla Sunrise during my last trip to Whole Foods and picked it up. I was wrangling Little Girl at the time, so I only gave the box a quick look, but I liked what I saw. The front clearly stated it was organic and contained three grams of fiber, two grams of protein, and 11 percent of the daily recommended allowance of omega-3s. I also liked what was missing: preservatives and artificial colors and flavors. Its sodium content wasn’t too bad, either. Just 130 milligrams.

When we got home, I showed Big Girl my find, offering her a bowl of the stuff. She was skeptical. It doesn’t look like other cereals, she said. She’s right. It’s not uniform in size, shape, or color. In fact, it’s what I’d call a fun mix of shapes and textures. (Thanks to the ancient grains like quinoa and amaranth.) Big Girl, however, wouldn’t try it.

The cereal has puffs and flakes and pieces.

Not wanting to waste a box of cereal, I poured myself a bowl for lunch the next day. It was quite yummy. The cereal has a nice crunch to it, and all those different shapes and sizes make for a different experience in every spoonful. As for the taste: The vanilla is very subtle, but it is pretty sweet overall. So sweet, in fact, that after I took a second bite I had to give the label another look. That’s when I saw that sugar (evaporated cane juice to be exact) was the second ingredient. Here’s the full list of ingredients:

Whole corn meal, evaporated cane juice, brown rice flour, yellow corn flour, inulin, quinoa puffs, flax seeds, natural vanilla flavor, buckwheat flour, quinoa, sea salt, amaranth, molasses, tocopherols (natural vitamin E)

When you consider that four grams of sugar equals about a teaspoon of sugar, that means every bowl of Organic Crunchy Vanilla Sunrise has almost two teaspoons of the stuff. While it’s not a deal-breaker for me, I do wish it had a little less sugar. On the plus side — and what’s frightening — is that the sugar content is relatively low when you compare it with other cereals.

This past December the Environmental Working Group (EWG) assessed breakfast cereals and found some were 55.6, 51.9, and 48.3 percent sugar by weight. (The offending cereals were Kellogg’s Honey Smacks, Post Golden Crisp, and Kellogg’s Froot Loops Marshmallow, respectively. Organic Crunchy Vanilla Sunrise, by comparison, is 23.3 percent sugar by weight.) You can look at the rest of the 10 Worst Children’s Cereals here.

There are a few issues when you add sugar to breakfast cereal. Littler kids especially have issues when sugar content creeps up. From an EWG press release:

“Studies suggest that children who eat breakfasts that are high in sugar have more problems at school. They become more frustrated and have a harder time working independently than kids who eat lower-sugar breakfasts. By lunchtime they have less energy, are hungrier, show attention deficits and make more mistakes on their work.”

I have digressed completely. Again, this cereal falls below the suggested eight grams of sugar per bowl, so since I’m eating it — and loving it, I might add — I’ll keep buying it. Will I give it to my 3-year-old? Probably not, but if Big Girl, who is eight wanted to try it, I’d probably happily pour her a bowl. And since I do like this cereal, I’m definitely checking out some of the other Nature’s Path offerings, which made it on to the EWG’s list of best cereals (meaning they are lower in sugar) including Optimum Cranberry Ginger, Corn Puffs, Kamut Puffs, Millet Puffs, and Rice Puffs.

How does your breakfast cereal stack up? Take a look at the EWG’s analysis of 84 popular cereal offerings if you’re not sure.

First thing: If you feel nauseous and are experiencing vomiting, watery non-bloody diarrhea, and abdominal pain, you’ve probably got norovirus, which is the second most frequent cause of illness after the common cold. (Other symptoms may include low-grade fever, headache, chills, muscle aches, and fatigue.) Symptoms start between 24 and 48 hours after exposure, but can occur in as little as 12 hours after exposure.

You get it by eating or drinking something that’s been contaminated with stool or vomit of an infected person. For instance, the person making your bagel had the disease last week, went to the bathroom, and didn’t wash up carefully enough, transferring the germ onto your bagel. You can also get it by touching something contaminated (a coffee pot at a convenience store, your child’s blankie, a door handle, a gas pump, an ATM) and then putting your hands or fingers in your mouth. Heck, you can even get it by sharing a drink or food with someone who is contagious or just being around someone who is sick since the norovirus can — albeit less frequently — go airborne. The worst part: You can get the disease more than once. Unlike certain bacterial diseases, you don’t create long-term antibodies against the stomach flu. Antibodies last between two and six months, according to the CDC, which is why some people get the norovirus every fall or winter when the disease is most active.

From the Centers for Disease Control: “The CDC estimates that each year more than 20 million cases of acute gastroenteritis are caused by noroviruses. That means about 1 in every 15 Americans will get norovirus illness each year. Norovirus is also estimated to cause over 70,000 hospitalizations and 800 deaths each year in the United States.”

While catching this annoying, painful disease is easy, it’s just as easy to avoid catching it. Want to stay healthy? Follow these tips:

1. Wash, wash, and then wash some more: Every expert out there says the best way to avoid getting sick is to wash your hands frequently and keep them out of your mouth. Suds up using plain old soap and sing the “Happy Birthday” song twice. Help little ones wash up religiously so they don’t wipe in the bathroom and then wipe the germs all over your hands and house and TV remotes. (One thing to note: The CDC reports that antibacterial soaps containing triclosan and quarternary ammonium compounds have not been found to be effective against the stomach virus, another reason to avoid them.) If you’re not near a sink, use alcohol-based hand sanitizers containing at least 60 percent alcohol. Personally, I have Purell in my car, in my bag, on the kitchen counter, and in my gym bag. (Did I mention how bad I get the bug when I get sick???)
2. Clean with bleach: This is one of those “natural-as-possible” moments. Greenies hate chlorine bleach, but it’s the best thing to use if you or someone in your home has the bug because it actually kills the virus. Make a bleach solution using 5 to 25 tablespoons household bleach and a gallon of water, and use it to disinfect all hard surfaces. Don’t forget “frequent touch” spots such as door knobs, hand rails on stairs, light switches, refrigerator and toaster handles, your PC mouse and keyboard, touchscreens, and your telephones. Of course, take care not to get bleach into your electronics. Wipe screens and remotes with a rag or paper towel dampened with the bleach solution; Don’t spray it directly onto your devices.
3. Practice good food safety. According to the CDC, an estimated five million cases of food-borne norovirus infections happen each year via food contamination.  That said, carefully wash raw fruits and veggies before eating them, and be aware of how people are preparing your food. (Me? I avoid all prepared food during stomach virus season.) Don’t knowingly eat food that’s been prepared by someone who was sick recently, either.
4. Disinfect laundry — especially sheets and towels: My mom used to strip the beds after we were sick, wash our sheets in bleach, and hang them out to dry in the sun — even in the winter. Seems like she had the right idea. The norovirus can spread really easily via contaminated pillowcases and towels. Makes sense, right? Disinfect laundry by (again, this is not exactly a green practice) washing with hot water and drying on “high.” Use bleach if you’re dealing with poopy or vomited-on items such as sheets and towels. Don’t forget to disinfect your washer afterward by running it empty with bleach and soap. Another tip: Make sure you wash your hands after transferring wet laundry from the washer to the dryer.
5. Keep sick kids and adults quarantined:  This is a no-brainer. Keep sickies in their bedrooms, and, if you have more than one bathroom, assign them their own commode that’s off-limits to the rest of the family. Bleach-bomb it before you let anyone use it again.
6. Follow the two-week rule. The stomach bug sheds from your intestines for up to two weeks after the last symptoms end. This means you and your kids are contagious long after your last stomach cramp. Don’t get lax about washing, disinfecting, or sharing food during the shedding phase.
7. Do a home sweep.  Aside from TV remotes, the virus can and does live on hard surfaces as well as on carpeting and floors for up to a week. Don’t forget to disinfect things that you touch all the time but rarely clean like steering wheels and your child’s well-loved toys. If you have babies or toddlers make sure binkies, diaper pails, bottles, and crib rails are disinfected, too.  (We actually used the stomach virus to wean my oldest –then 13 months — off her binky since she didn’t take it when sick, and didn’t remember it once she got better.)

This is a lot of information, but hopefully — with a little luck and a lot of Purell and bleach solution — you’ll avoid getting the bug. And one final word of warning: While most people recover very quickly from the stomach virus, make sure you stay hydrated and call your doctor if you have any questions, especially if you or a family member fall into a high risk group: the elderly, ill, or very young. Dehydration can happen very quickly, and can be very dangerous. Here’s a link to the CDC’s guidelines for management of acute diarrhea.

Did you get the stomach bug this year? If so, how did you manage? Please feel free to post any tips you’ve discovered for managing the disease.

This week, The Alliance for a Clean and Healthy Maine Mainely Moms and Dads confirmed the chemical is still out there, and it can be found in many of the foods we’re giving our babies and toddlers. From the organization’s news release:

“The Alliance for a Clean and Healthy Maine sent fifteen containers of food to Anresco Laboratories for analysis in January and released the results today. BPA was found in 11 of the 12 sampled containers of baby food manufactured by Beech-Nut, Gerber, Earth’s Best Organic and Shaw’s Wild Harvest brand. It was also found in all three of the canned foods sampled including Campbell’s Disney Princess SpaghettiOs, Dora the Explorer soup, and Chef Boyardee macaroni and cheese.”

This is pretty scary. In case you haven’t seen the data: Teams of independent researchers have found that BPA isn’t as safe as once though. The reason: It acts as an endocrine disruptor, mimicking human hormones like estrogen. People have linked it to increased risk of breast cancer, thyroid issues, lowered male fertility rates, decreased birth weight, and wheezing, among other ailments and issues. Another October 2011 Harvard School of Public Health study found BPA exposure in the womb is linked to behavioral and emotional difficulties in girls. Of course the folks who bring us this plastic and resin say it’s perfectly fine. Me? I’m thinking that all those researchers can’t be wrong, which is why I limit my family’s BPA exposure as much as possible.

The smart folks in Maine are asking manufacturers of food intentionally marketed or sold to children under three to replace BPA or disclose how much BPA is in their packaging. They say a second phase will ask for a complete ban of the substance. It’s a start, I guess, but I’d rather see our governments come out and ban BPA in all food containers as well as anything that might be ingested by kids or adults. What do you think?

I’ve been a freelance writer for about a dozen years and have written for pretty much every women’s magazine out there. Before kids, I used to write a lot for Marie Claire. I pitched every one of my stories — that is, I came up with the idea, wrote it up, and it was approved and assigned by the editors. One of the ideas came about after a friend had her first baby. Afterward, she confided, she was having problems. Any time she laughed, coughed, or ran, she leaked urine. I did research for her and realized that her pelvic floor muscles were probably stretched out or damaged from pushing for more than three hours. It was a story, I decided, and I pitched it to my Marie Claire editor. Here’s an excerpt from the letter (yes, an actual snail mail letter since my editor wanted to see clips, too) I wrote:

Thank you for taking a look at my pitch on vaginal strength and gynecological physical therapy, which I sent to you today via e-mail. As I mentioned in my e-mailed pitch, the researchers I’ve spoken to such as Dr. Lauri Romanzi, a uro-gynecologist at Cornell University-New York Presbyterian Hospital say American women are missing out because few know that their vaginal problems can be solved using directed Kegels, biofeedback, and other physical therapy methodologies. This leads to needless suffering just because doctors and most media outlets are squeamish about the topic. I’d love to be the one that breaks down these barriers and helps let Marie Claire readers in on the secret.

Completely crappy letter, but hey, I was just a wet-behind-the-ears kid. But I digress as usual. The story was assigned, but not exactly in the way I envisioned. The title of my story morphed from “Get a Stronger Pelvic Floor,” to “Best Orgasm Ever!” You can read it here. There’s still advice and info that stands the test of time. The testers were two of my karate pals and me, of course. And I got to go into Dr. Glazer’s New York City office, get uro-dynamic testing, and take home a vaginal biofeedback machine. It was fairly awesome. (I remember being very offended that I was “strong” but lacked “endurance.” In layman terms, my pelvic floor muscles were strong, but got tired quickly.)

Anyway, fast forward a half a dozen years and I was pregnant with my second child — you know, after my first child that weighed in at 8 pounds, 5 ounces at birth and who has a giant head. I got the flu. Twice. I had HUGE issues. Every time I coughed, I leaked. (Sorry for that TMI.) I blogged about it. Anyone who is having similar issues should definitely read that post, Whiz Bang, You’re Wet (Or How Not to Pee Your Pants).

As my story and the book, The Bathroom Key, show, there are millions of women suffering with urinary incontinence but they don’t have to be. There are treatments and exercises and help available. You just have to be willing to talk about a problem that could seem a little embarrassing. In this case I think we as women need to take a page from men. They are more than willing to go into their doctors’ offices and tell them about weak urine streams and erectile dysfunction. Why should we be afraid of talking about a little leaky urine?

Have you ever had a problem with bladder incontinence or any other pelvic floor issues? Did you seek help? How did that go for you? I’d like to know.