When Sitting Became Painful: My Journey with Vestibulodynia

I never thought I’d be writing about this, at least not here, not publicly, but here we are. I’ve learned that sometimes the stories we least want to tell are the ones that might help someone else finally feel seen. After giving birth to my son 5 years ago, I expected the usual postpartum chaos; sleepless nights, leaky everything, the strange blur between joy and exhaustion. What I didn’t expect was pain. Sharp, burning, relentless pain that made even sitting feel like punishment. At first, I told myself it was normal. My body had just done something extraordinary; maybe this was just what “healing” looked like. But weeks turned into months, and every time I tried to pull on jeans or sit through a meeting or—God forbid—think about intimacy, I braced myself. 

“I’ve learned that sometimes the stories we least want to tell are the ones that might help someone else finally feel seen.”

Doctor after doctor gave me different versions of the same answer; “You just need more time.” Some were kind; others made me feel like I was asking for too much. A few hinted that maybe it was all in my head. And when you hear that enough times, you start to believe them. You start to wonder if maybe you are being dramatic, if maybe you just have a low pain tolerance, if maybe this is your new normal. But it wasn’t.

It took a pelvic floor physical therapist handing me a packet labeled vulvodynia for everything to click. I finally had a word—vestibulodynia — for what I’d been feeling. It was both terrifying and relieving; terrifying because I now had to face it, and relieving because at least it was real.

Learning What Vestibulodynia Really Is

Once I had a name, I did what any millennial woman raised on Google does — I researched the hell out of it. That’s how I found the Center for Vulvovaginal Disorders in Washington, D.C.— one of the few places in the country that actually specializes in this. For the first time, I sat across from a provider who didn’t tilt their head in confusion or offer me vague reassurance. They knew exactly what I was describing, and even more shockingly, they could explain why it was happening.

Here’s what I learned…

Vestibulodynia is a form of vulvodynia—a chronic pain condition that affects the vestibule, the small area surrounding the vaginal opening. It can be provoked (triggered by touch, sitting, or intercourse) or unprovoked (spontaneous pain that seems to appear out of nowhere).

The causes are complex and layered:

Nerve hypersensitivity: Those tiny nerve endings can become overactive, sending pain signals even when there’s no real injury.

Hormonal shifts: Postpartum, breastfeeding, or certain birth control methods can lower estrogen or testosterone, thinning tissue and increasing sensitivity.

Pelvic floor tension: Muscles tighten in response to pain, which keeps the cycle going.

Stress and trauma: Emotional and physical pain live in the same body—and one can amplify the other.

“Unfortunately, many people go years without diagnosis because of how little awareness there is, even among healthcare professionals.”

What struck me most was how interconnected it all was. My hormones, my nervous system, my stress—all playing in the same orchestra, out of tune. The team at the center treated me like a whole person, not a collection of symptoms.

They built a plan that included:

• Pelvic floor physical therapy to retrain my body to release instead of brace.

• Topical hormones to restore tissue health.

• Medications to calm nerve activity.

• And a referral to a sex therapist where we talked about reintroduction to intimacy—with patience, curiosity, and zero pressure.

Unfortunately, many people go years without diagnosis because of how little awareness there is, even among healthcare professionals. That delay can lead to cycles of shame, self-blame, and relational strain — something I know all too well.

How It Affects Relationships

For many couples, conditions like vestibulodynia can quietly rewrite the script of their relationship. One partner may feel rejected or confused, while the other carries guilt or fear of pain. Without open communication, that distance can grow. In my own marriage, we had to learn a new way to connect — one rooted in patience, curiosity, and emotional safety. It wasn’t just about finding ways to be intimate again; it was about rebuilding trust and closeness from the inside out. Research on sexual health and relationships supports this and reminds us that when partners approach sexual challenges through curiosity and compassion, rather than blame or avoidance, they strengthen both safety and intimacy. Healing becomes a shared journey, not an individual burden.

What I Wish More People Knew

• Pain during sex is not normal. It’s common, but not something you should have to “push through.”

• You are not broken. Vestibulodynia is a physical condition — not a failure of desire, femininity, or emotional strength.

• There are specialists who can help.

• Healing takes time — and tenderness. Both with your body and with your partner.

Vestibulodynia changed me — not just physically, but in how I understand the connection between body, mind, and relationship. It taught me that real healing begins when we name our pain, believe our experiences, and approach ourselves with compassion instead of criticism. If you’re experiencing pain that doesn’t make sense or feels invisible, please know this: you’re not alone, and it’s not “just in your head.” There’s hope, there’s treatment, and there’s a future where your body feels like home again.

If anything I’ve shared here resonates with you, please know you don’t have to face it alone. I work with individuals and couples navigating pelvic pain, sexual pain, or intimacy challenges, and I’d love to support you in finding relief, understanding, and connection with your body and your partner. If you’re ready to take the next step, you can schedule a session or consultation with me here.

Healing doesn’t have to be a solo journey, and I’d be honored to walk alongside you.