My assumption is that the sitz bath is introduced only afterdeliver because it prompts such ghastly images of illness its certain to scareanyone into abstinence. “Your Body: Post Pregnancy” books aren’t best sellersfor a reason. I was sure my midwife was confusing me with another patient inthe geriatric wing when she asked how my sitzing was coming along.

Sitz was a mustard colored training toilet that proved to beuncomfortable, cold, and uninviting—with a companion bag that I mistook as aurine caddy. I soaked in room temperature water while my feet rested on tilesof ice—I even used a wheel chair on each journey to the john. The ‘urinal bag’ camewithout a perch so I had to continuously elevate it above the laws of physics forthe water to flow properly. When my perched arm became partially numb andtingly, I would then use my free arm to brace it, with my thigh acting as abase. My perched arm would eventually numb entirely. At that point, I would switchsides, and back and forth the ‘urinal bag’ would go until I had sitzedentirely.

I neglected Sitz at home until images of perineum deformity began to haunt me. One day out of fear,I kept my appointment. The baby began to cry during my meeting. Someone elsepicked her up. My friendship with Sitz began that day. I used my time with Sitzto social network and text without interruption—I became available. Ouralliance was strong. With Sitz I had both peace and solidarity—I was once againan individual. I became ambitious about being with Sitz—often ‘forgetting’ Ihad already spent my allowance with her that day.

My midwife was dumbfounded to learn I was still spending somuch time with Sitz. I was an anomaly. No one actually kept these appointments.I felt like I had just won a triathlon by cheating. I parted with Sitz after myappointment—a bitter-sweet farewell. I wanted to bury her—with a note inremembrance, she had become part of me—instead I placed her gently into therecycling bin, hoping she could bless someone in her next life as she had me.