My daughter was two days old when I walked across my living room and fully, completely, without warning, peed my pants. Not just a little. A full bladder expulsion, zero warning, drenched yoga pants, and, most alarmingly, absolutely nothing I could have done to stop it. I assumed it was some remaining birth aftermath, which is unsettling enough on its own, but nope. Just my pelvic floor, clocking out without one bit of notice.
I’d had my son six years earlier. Post-baby, I had to cross my legs when I sneezed, sure. Certain jumping situations required some optimism. But I had never, not once, simply peed myself mid-stride in my own home. Or anywhere for that matter. Mercifully, my bladder recovered as my body did. But like most women, my version of “recovered” still involves a strategic bathroom visit before a workout and a small prayer before a hard sneeze. I should note my youngest is now 14. FOURTEEN.
One of my favorite workouts is trampoline class. Not the big ones. The small, individual jogging trampolines, the kind that could have starred in a 1980s workout video alongside spandex onesies and leg warmers. A small army of women jumping, kicking, and twisting in approximate unison. Every single class, without fail, we talk about peeing. Because every single class, without fail, we do. Everyone pees before class. Some maybe even duck out mid-class. Some women wear period underwear as a matter of course. It’s just part of the deal and we’ve all got enough of a sense of humor that it’s simply an unglamorous footnote to an otherwise excellent workout.
We accept this. We laugh about it. We have normalized the hell out of it. But according to Lauren Barker, co-founder and CEO of Uresta and mother of an 11-month-old, that normalization is exactly the problem.
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One in three women experience urinary incontinence in the first year postpartum. That number climbs to up to 50% by menopause. And yet, studies show, many doctors never ask. “I think we all know it’s not life-threatening,” Barker told me. “But that doesn’t mean we should have to suck it up. It’s a huge quality of life issue.” She talked to a customer in her mid-60s who had been managing leaks since her first baby, three decades ago. The woman filmed a video testimonial about a gala she attended six months postpartum. She’d gotten her hair done, bought a new dress, lost some of the baby weight and had such a bad accident in the bathroom that she had to stuff her underwear in her clutch. Thirty years later, she told Barker, “I wish I’d had this product.”
There have been solutions, technically. Pelvic floor PT is excellent and chronically under-referred. (Fun fact: in France and the UK, women are automatically referred to a pelvic floor physio postpartum. In the US and Canada, that referral is basically a coin flip depending on your provider.) Prescription pessaries exist — medical devices fitted by a physician in what Barker describes as a pretty invasive process involving a variety of surreal shapes and basically jumping around the doctor’s office to test the fit. She tells me the retention rate for those is 16%. Not exactly a ringing endorsement.
What is Uresta?
Uresta is different. It’s the first FDA-approved over-the-counter bladder leak solution, self-fitted at home, with no prescription required. Barker describes it as “a bra for your bladder.” It inserts vaginally, sitting just under the urethra, and uses a wide bell shape to provide counter-pressure, so when you sneeze or jump and your bladder gets hit with that internal pressure spike, something is there to hold things in place. Importantly, it doesn’t block anything so you can still pee normally with it in. It’s support, not a plug.
It comes in five sizes. The starter kit includes three (small, medium, large), which, Barker says covers 90% of women. If you need the smallest or largest, they’ll send it free. The sizing sweet spot: leaks stop, but you can still pee. If it’s uncomfortable, it’s probably not in far enough. (Barker notes this is the most common issue, and if you’ve ever used a menstrual cup, the same logic applies.) It needs to clear the pubic bone to be nestled in the right place.
Speaking of which, I am a committed, longtime menstrual cup user. I have birthed two humans. I am not squeamish. I went straight for the middle size, figured I’m a fairly average situation, and recently put the whole thing to the trampoline test.
Insertion is a little less forgiving than a period cup — Uresta is solid rather than collapsible, shaped a bit like a top with a retrieval tab on one end, and passing it past the pubic bone requires a moment. (It’s made from a firm, non-absorbent, medical grade resin.) Lube helps. But once it’s placed correctly, it feels like it disappears. There’s no sensation or discomfort. Just nothing. I went through the entire class — jumping, twisting, the works — without a single incident. Came home, went to pee before bed, and had completely forgotten it was there. Removing it was easy. Peeing with it in was fine. You can leave it in for hours at a time and even sleep with it in if nighttime leaks are an issue.
If you’re using it newly postpartum, you may find that you’ll need to size down eventually. Also worth noting, it’s not designed as a pelvic trainer, so wearing it won’t improve your pelvic floor strength over time. However, Barker notes, “We’ve done multiple clinical studies and none of those studies have suggested that incontinence gets worse.”
What Barker said that stuck with me is that women often don’t realize how much leaks are holding them back until the leaks are gone. “Women are like, my leaks aren’t that bad,” she said. “But then as soon as they try Uresta and that aspect is removed, they realize how much leaks have been impacting them daily.” The woman who skips the workout. Who mentally maps every venue for the nearest bathroom. Who wears dark pants as a default. Who just factors the pee in as the cost of doing business.
We have been so thoroughly socialized to minimize this that most of us don’t even clock it as a problem worth solving. It’s just motherhood. It’s just aging. It’s just what happens.
It doesn’t have to be. Uresta is available at uresta.com. The starter kit is $65, includes three sizes, and if you need to exchange for a different size, the first swap is free. It’s also HSA and FSA eligible.
And if you’ve ever wanted to try a trampoline class, I highly recommend.
Frequently asked questions about Uresta
Is Uresta FDA approved?
Yes. Uresta is the only FDA-approved reusable over-the-counter bladder support device available in the US. (There was previously a disposable tampon-like option, but it was discontinued in December 2024.) That means no prescription, no doctor’s fitting appointment and no waiting.
How much does Uresta cost?
The Uresta Starter Kit is $65 and includes three sizes (the most common sizes, which fit 90% of women). Each device is reusable but they recommend replacing after a year. It’s also FSA and HSA eligible.
Can you use Uresta postpartum?
Yes, and it’s one of the most common use cases. Barker notes that the size you need may change over time — you might start with a larger size early postpartum and size down as your body recovers, or as you stop breastfeeding (the drop in estrogen from nursing can temporarily worsen leaks). The brand will send a different size for free within 30 days if the starter kit sizes don’t work for you.
