Our editor confesses: “I wet myself at a comedy gig.”

It was Dylan Moran who did it.

The Irish funny man really is very funny.

It was a couple of months after my daughter was born that my husband surprised me with tickets to a comedy show for my birthday.

It was a very thoughtful gift. I love live comedy and since we have kids, getting to a show is, well, something of an exercise; juggling small children and babysitters and bath time and bed time and getting out the door with clean hair and clean clothes. So, the fact that he went to the effort of making it all happen meant a lot to me.

Dylan Moran is probably best known for the telly show, Blackbooks. He plays a grumpy Irish book purveyor with strange friends and eccentric staff. His character has a predilection for wine and shouting at strangers – much like myself.

Accurate. Image: Giphy.

His stand-up comedy is similar. He takes the every day moments of life, adds an odd ball sensibility to them and the results are hilarious.

So hilarious that I would like to take this opportunity to issue a warning to anyone who plans on attending a show at the State Theatre in Melbourne.

If your ticket is for seat E48, I’m pretty sure I laughed at Dylan Moran so hard I might have done a teeny tiny little wee.

See. I told you, it was Dylan Moran who did it. He’s the one that made me realise my pelvic floor ain’t what it once was.

And though I laughed and laughed and laughed at Dylan Moran’s terribly funny jokes, there was a tiny part of me having an out of body experience, a tiny part of me looking down as I realised no matter how hard I squeezed my thighs together and how tightly I contracted my kegels, there was only so much I could do.

I was having a light moment in my life at the same time I was having a light bladder leakage moment.

Dylan Moran made me realise my pelvic floor ain’t what it once was. Image via iStock.

I don’t know why I thought my pelvic floor hadn’t changed after birth. Everything else about my body had changed, my tummy, my boobs, my skin and yet I neglected to realise that the part of my body that was critical to the actual process of birth would be profoundly changed.

I got home and I looked at the box of panty liners in my bathroom drawer. I wasn’t sad or ashamed, but I had a profound moment of realisation.

This is my body now. It’s a body that grew two beautiful babies, birthed them both, one by caesarean and one vaginally. It’s a body that wears visible and invisible scars in memory of my pregnancies. And in the same way that I have quiet pride over my stretch marks and my caesarean scar, I would now work towards a quiet pride in a new way.

I’ve always thought we get choices about how we respond to things, to times of trial in our lives, to critical feedback, to drama and tragedy.

My choice after Dylan Moran’s show; I could hide away and avoid comedy. But I love to laugh. I actively seek out the funny in life, whether it’s a comedy show, Cards Against Humanity with friends after a boozy dinner party or a funny movie on the couch with my husband.

There was no way I was going to choose to give that up. A good joke makes me feel vibrant and alive.

If you haven't already played, get on it. LBL be damned, it's worth it. Image via Cards Against Humanity.

And so I chose to get on with it, to find a way to take quiet pride in my body and to find a way to make sure I could deal with my light bladder leakage and stay my funny joking vibrant self.

The quiet pride in my body means that I can take a packet of Poise liners off the shelf at the supermarket without thinking twice about it.

Poise liners, a product specifically designed for light bladder leakage, keep you dry and comfortable because they are more absorbent than regular liners. I tried regular liners one night soon after the Dylan Moran show during a good old Netflix and Chill with my husband – they didn’t quite cut the mustard, unfortunately. My Poise ones, however, saw me living up a storm at this year’s Melbourne Comedy Festival.

They make it just that little bit easier to make that choice to commit to staying my funny self and embrace the body that proudly gave me the children that I love.

When was the last time you laughed really hard?