Scoop on Poop

When I got pregnant, I knew there would be a lot of gross stuff happening to me and my body.  I expected the morning sickness, the cravings, and the “bloody show” (who comes up with those names?)—all of it.  There were some things, however, that I wasn’t made aware of, both of them having to do with the rear end.  We will begin with the ‘roids.  Now, my only prior knowledge of ‘roids were the kind professional athletes are caught shooting up.  I had no idea about the pain in the ass (literally) that are hemorrhoids.  Maybe I wasn’t made aware because people shy away from the ass topic when pregnancy pains come up.  But you people have a right to know and I feel it is my duty (dootie?) to make you aware of all of the aspects of pregnancy, should you decide to take the plunge.



Hemorrhoids are the devil.  I was lucky (?) enough not to experience them until the last month of pregnancy, but when they showed up, they showed up with a vengeance.  They hurt.  A lot.  There is no sugar coating it when it comes to the ‘roids.  I feel like I have to carry a soft donut around with me to sit on constantly, but luckily Emmett’s Boppy  is working out in this pinch.  (Seriously, there are so many poop and ass jokes that I’m holding off on right now). 



Hemorrhoids are also the gift that keeps on giving.  They come and go as they please and even though I am 2 months post-partum, they are still showing up to remind me that like my child, they are with me for the rest of my life. 

Now let’s talk poop.   Towards the end of my pregnancy, I had read on a few message boards that the first post-baby poop was difficult.  I brushed it off, shined my “poop at least once a day medal” and figured I wouldn’t have any issues.  Sigh.  If I could only go back and tell my pregnant self to not be so cocky and start taking the stool softeners immediately…well, I probably still would have had issues.  You can’t prepare yourself for this stuff.

I had a c-section and was told that I couldn’t eat or drink anything for 12 hours before my surgery.  I had a late dinner and figured that since I had to be at the hospital at 10 a.m., it wouldn’t be too bad.  Well, I woke up that morning feeling like I was in the desert looking for an oasis.  I was SO THIRSTY but I figured that would happen—when anyone tells you that you can’t have something, all you do is fixate on that one thing you can’t have.  All I wanted was water. 

After the surgery, I wasn’t allowed to eat for another 5 hours or something crazy (and only then, I was allowed broth and Italian Ice—but at that point, I would have gladly licked an ice cube).  I was so enamored with my baby and counting his fingers and toes that I didn’t think about food for a few hours…but once my mind turned to food, it took over my brain.  Cute baby whimpers were the soundtrack to my thoughts of cheeseburgers and steaks.  I wanted food and I wanted it NOW.  When I was finally given real sustenance I ate like it was my last meal—Arby’s Ja’mocha Shakes, Roast Beef Sandwich, Curly Fries, Coffee…the list went on. 

I wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital until I had farted.  Yes, I had to monitor myself and once I let the nurse know that I had let one rip, I was given the all clear to leave.  I’ve heard of some people that actually had to poop in the hospital before I could leave but luckily for me, this wasn’t required.  I never waited for a fart in my life, but let me tell you, I kept everyone updated as to the status of my bowels.  I’m sure my husband was thrilled.  After I passed the gas, I figured it might be a little more difficult than I imagined to poop.  So I asked my doctor for a stool softener.  Instead, the nurse came in with a suppository and asked if I wanted help inserting it.  Noooothankyou.  I told her I would hold off for a little bit.

We left the hospital 2 days after I gave birth and over 72 hours since my last poop.  Not that I was keeping count or anything.  Because of the rule about the farting, I realized that pooping and your bowels are a pretty big deal to the doctors, specifically after you have a c-section, so now on top of worrying about if my baby was breathing every 2 minutes, the 3^rd minute was spent wondering if I was going to poop. 

Also, I kept on eating….and eating…and eating…hoping that poop would show up.  Nothing worked.  Nothing.  I had horrible poppy cramps, but after sitting on the toilet for 45 minutes at a time, straining (wonderful for the ‘roids, by the way) and shifting around, hoping for something, that something never arrived.  I would rush for the bathroom at the first rumble in my tummy, only to be driven to tears.  Literally.

We had our cats litter box in one of our bathrooms because the room it is usually kept in was occupied by a houseguest.  Once, as I ran to the bathroom thinking it was go-time, my bitchy cat sauntered in.  She looked at me, red-faced, straining, tears running down my face…and hopped in the litter box and took a shit.  Right in front of me.  I could have stuffed her. 



Eventually, my friends, that poop did come.  And when it did, it was something serious.  I walked out of the bathroom like Rocky, with my hands clasped over my head in victory.  My husband gave me a standing ovation.  My baby giggled.  And I texted my mom and closest friends to let them know that I finally won. 

Poop:  5  Nicole: 1—but a smelly, happy victory it was.