Yeah, I’m not talking about acting like a diva, I’m talking Diva Cup, TM, aka menstrual cup.
Yup, I understand if you need to now close this link. However, I encourage you, especially if you are a man, to not look away. It’s the messiness/amazingness of the female experience that you, a man, need to try harder to understand. You won’t regret it. Okay, spiel over.
I’ve been a mainstream menstruator for a long time (I don’t think that’s a real thing, but if this goes viral, I came up with that first, okay?), meaning I’ve used pads and tampons my whole life, vaguely guilty about the garbage I alone was producing and putting out into the world.
Then, a couple of months back, I was at a work party ( I work for a business that only has females on staff [ not as a policy, but simply because no men seem interested in being barre/palates/yoga instructors, studio childcare or front desk staff. Hmmm.]) and naturally talk turned to our menstrual cycles. If you are rolling your eyes, you, like I shamefully at times, are part of the problem. There is no shame in feminine issues, our menstrual blood, after all, is the life blood of all humankind. Just sayin’.
I learned, from my wise, and perhaps more crunchy granola (only if gluten, soy and sugar free though) coworkers, that tampons were so yesterday (not to mention toxic) that the menstrual cup was THE SHIT, and that Thinx (menstrual underwear, if you’re wondering) were the revolution in panties we’ve been waiting for.
Armed with a new found inspiration to do right by the environment and my body, enthused to shift my approach, I hit the aisle of my local store to try and find the Diva Cup I was now so ready to get my hands on.
After a bit of searching, I found, on the top shelf, the desired product. (Cool to note that no, I was not in a Whole Foods or any other kind of specialty store, but none other than Target, which suggests that the cup method of menstrual maintenance is more mainstream than I had thought). $34 seemed like a hefty price. But considering it might be the only menstrual product I’d need to purchase for the next decade, it seemed, actually, quite fair. After a bit more looking, I realized that the product had two sizes, Pre-baby and post-baby (aka, have you pushed a baby through your vagina? You have? Okay, you’re gonna be needing THIS one). I was about to have to walk away before I found the last post-baby sized Dive Cup, in a battered blue box that looked as though it had sat on the shelf for several years and then some (maybe even fallen and been kicked down the aisle a few times). Never the less, it deserved it’s time in the sun…er…in my vagina…
So I bought that puppy and I self consciously shoved in into a drawer in my bathroom (envisioning what horrors might occur if my kids found it and started to play with it- “look mommy, a little rubber hat!”), waiting for a moment when I could really take a look at that manual and learn exactly what it was I had just purchased.
The time did come. I could feel my period brewing. I needed to learn the ways of the cup and quickly.
Okay, not the easiest read. There were quite a few paragraphs there, maybe not as simple as my co-workers had made it out to be. Turns out there are a few possible ways to insert what initially appears to be a GIGANTIC rubber cup. So, I’d have to choose my approach, decide, with no experience, what looked like the best folding method (yes, folding method. Like origami, okay? You don’t think I can fit a cup in their without folding, do you?!). Okay, and I’d have to clean, really clean my hands, cuz I was going to be in there. Okay…and really clean that cup, 20 seconds with soap and hot water. Oh geez, that looked like a big cup…but I did push two babies out this vaginal opening…so…it’s feasible.
The time arrived to really use the thing. I’d read the instructions over twice. I didn’t know how much I’d absorbed, but really, I’d always done better with doing, so here I was doing it.
The door was locked (no unexpected visitors walking in with me crouched, hands between my legs jammed up my vj), I’d taken a shower, in fact, polished my hands so that no germs dare invade.
I flexed the structure of the thing a couple of time in my hand, bendy and soft. I was told it takes a while before it really relaxes its fit to your own body. I was to expect some glitches. It’s okay, I’m a brave, brave…bravebravebravebrave woman.
First attempt was a bit fumbly. I mean, I thought I knew about my body, the basic structure, what it can handle. Where was this going exactly? How far in? I was astonished that this massive, folded rubber thing, eventually slipped into it’s alotted slot. The hard part, then, was the required rotation so that it can fully unfurl in it’s loving vaginal canal, find it’s home, sealing the outside world from menstrual flow, graciously catching the blood of a happy shedding womb.
Er…lucky I had a conventional pad lining my unders, as the initial fitting was far from perfect and leakage occurred (here, I think, is where the Thinx undies are supposed to step in and fill the other piece of the puzzle, eliminating the need for conventional pads entirely- but they too come with a hefty price, so that part is going to have to wait).
But I ain’t no quitter, and so I tried again. The second time was better. I even felt confident enough with it that, I thought, what the hay, I’m going to keep it in over night. The beauty of the cup, is no fear of toxic shock syndrome, as well as a larger capacity, so, here we go! I was feeling confident, a pad check showed no leakage. Nice. Feelin’ good.
At 4 in the morning my eyes flew open. Slightly disoriented I wondered “what if the cup is full? Have I left it in too long? I have no idea how often I need to change this thing; after all, this is my first go round. Go back to sleep, it’s fine.”
I jumped out of bed.
I needed to find out what was going on in there.
This would be my first time trying to remove the cup after hours of it settled in it’s cozy cave. I’d also been lying down, gravity having a different effect aka inward migration.
I reached in. I couldn’t feel it. What did I read about leaving the little nub not too far in?
I was still groggy. I hunched over the toilet, crouched, legs wide, panties around my ankles, deep breathing.
Try again.
I couldn’t feel it. “Where the f*&ck is it?” I think I was panting slightly.
Reached, fingers wiggling up in there. Nothing. Cold sweats.
I’d been crouched long enough that my legs had started to shake.
I tried again, somehow it would seem, the dimensions of my arm length to torso length make it so that I didn’t have much reach up inside. Oh god, how long could I go without taking it out? I couldn’t go to emergency. Who could I call? Who would be willing, after all, to assist with this (funny, I never once thought of my husband), my midwives of course! YES! MY BELOVED MIDWIVES! They know my vagina SO well. We could laugh about this.
That thought calmed me enough that the cold sweats and shaking eased.
I sat on the toilet. I thought. Think, think, think.
Vaguely a part of the instructions swam lazily to the surface: bear down.
Duh.
I did just that, and like a small, slippery miracle, that little rubber nubbin, that small grip, appeared to my finger tips and I pulled that vessel out. I noted, that it was not yet full. Good info.
I laughed, silently and with relief.
I rinsed the cup, grinning. What had I thought? That the cup would migrate all the way from vagina, through my cervix into the immense cavern of my uterous? That like some horrific alien horror flick I would start coughing and the cup would emerge, slowly and grotesquely from my throat, via my gaping mouth, eyes wide, the people around me reeling back in horror, chairs scraping floors, tables toppling in their hast to escape the horror?
I rinsed my hands.
I put on my thick as F nighttime, conventional pad, and went back to sleep.
There’s always next month.
Yes, a month. I can surely rebuild my courage in a month.
If I were to review this Diva Cup, I think I’d have to say something like: Liberating and terrifying all at once. This chikita’s verdict is still out, check back later.
5 Go Rounds the Menstrual Cycle, Final Review:
In those 5 months, I only missed using the cup once- during the evac and subsequent turmoil caused by the Northern California fires. I had it with me, but I just couldn’t deal. Had I been a more seasoned menstrual cup warrior, I may have used it.
I still have fit issues, I have not yet had a leak free menstrual cycle run. The solution is a conventional panty liner- so no, I have not been able to entirely break free of all products, though have greatly decreased the consumption (no, I don’t actually EAT them. Duh.) Here’s where the Thinx would come in, but at $34 per pair…I’d be looking at an initial investment of at least $120 so I’d have enough to change them out and clean them once a day. Honestly, as a mom of a potty trainer and a diaper wearer, taking care of my soiled undies is not a thing I wish to deal with right now.
Putting the thing in has gotten easier. Though in all honesty, each time I origami fold the thing, I think about the dream I used to have as a kid of flying towards a keyhole, only faith keeping me at a steady course towards it, and right as I approach it, I slip magically through that keyhole. I just had to believe unwaveringly. Inserting the cup, it’s like that, it is an act of faith, every time. Oh, and the instructions tell you to turn it 360 degrees after insertion to help open the cup…I’m sorry, but once it’s in, that little remaining nubbin is not enough to help turn that thing. I just sort of pull it in and out slightly, wiggle it and hope it’s good. Maybe one of these days I’ll have an aha moment, figure out I’ve not been doing it quite right and then after that will have fail safe insertion that leads to no leakage at all. I dunno.
I still have no idea how one would do this in a public bathroom. Heck even in a large bathroom. I like being right near a sink where I can first remove the full cup, dump it in the toilet, then rinse it clean- from my squatting postion- in the sink. If that sink is too far away, then what? “Oh no, Sharolyn, you don’t have to rinse it every time, just reinsert.” Okay, I can’t do that. It’s just too messy…and slippery. Yeah, I actually managed to drop my cup in the toilet this last go round. I literally fumbled the ball and dropped it directly in toilet water…oh and another time it shot out of my hands and landed on the floor of my bathroom (thank god it was MY bathroom). If you are in a public bathroom, what then?!? And even if you were to just reinsert (Provided, OF COURSE, that you hadn’t also dropped it!!)…the blood on your fingers as you exit that public stall?
Anyway, not to scare anyone. This is still revolutionary. If you are ready to persist- and I recommend that you do, because “persisting” is all the rage now (yay women power!)- you will be pleasantly surprise. I’m sold. I will use this cup always…yes there are glitches to overcome, but I’m willing and able to deal with it.
Oh, and yeah, my four year old found my cup in my messenger bag, in it’s sweet purple fabric bag and asked loudly, in front of inlaws, what it was. I told her it was a secret and I’d tell her later.
Maybe one day I’ll even let her be present while I insert that thing- like I let her while inserting tampons ( I want her to not be afraid of these things)…but for now, it’s still a “me only” event as I work out the kinks. I’ll share when I’m an expert.
Final Verdict: Go for it!
Ruminations on Motherhood 