The room was quiet and sterile. White walls, white floors, bad lighting and a small window overlooking the parking lot. I had just birthed my son, Elijah, the day before. And now I was enjoying a moment without phone calls, visitors, nurses and the like. My husband had snuck away for a shower back at home and the pediatrician had taken Elijah away for some tests. I was just starting to relax when all of the sudden I felt it. The urge. I knew there had to be a reason they were pumping me full of stool softeners. The time had come to for me to come to grips with that reason. I made my way to the bathroom as the feeling of discomfort increased. I squatted cautiously over the lovely white toilet (where are the seat covers in the postpartum rooms?) so that I would not be germified by OPP (other peoples placentas). This in and of itself is a sight to see, a true challenge and workout for my 5’1’’ self. Squatting on my tiptoes, I proceeded with the inevitable. At least, I tried. The pain got worse. Tears welled up in my tired eyes. This hurt. Were the stool softeners expired or something because they certainly did not seem to have done their job? There I was – tired, alone, hormonal and fat. And now I was stuck in the bathroom.
I looked over at the wall where an enticing contraption hung ever so sweetly. The words jumped out at me, “Pull cord in case of emergency.” This was an emergency. I pulled. Two nurses came rushing in within seconds, panting in anticipation of what they would find. I will never forget the look of disappointment on their faces when they saw me squatting over the toilet in tears. “Um, I think I have poop stuck halfway in and halfway out. And uhhh, it hurts really bad. And I don’t know what to do.” They had hit the jackpot with this cord pull. You know they wanted to ro-sham-bo for the follow up on this call. One of the nurses politely said, “Okay. I will check you.” Fabulous. She checked me and then broke the news. “Sweetheart,” she said in an I feel sorry for you kind of way. “That’s not poop. That’s a hemorrhoid.” Welcome to motherhood.
Please leave comments! (And not about how AWESOME I look in this picture!)
Hilarious, Wendy. And you can count on me buying at least one copy of your book when it gets published, so you got that going for ya... :) Keep writing!
ReplyDeleteOh Wendy!!!! Should I expose my laughter? or can I just say I am so sorry!! ...Can I laugh now?
ReplyDeleteSend me a copy please. :)
ReplyDeleteOh Darlin...ME TOO! Looking forward to your book. Just wish it was around BEFORE I went down this road three times!! :)
ReplyDeleteI just read your intro to Luke. He loved it. You might get some of the male species buying your book too!
ReplyDeleteHey, at least your nurses told you about your 'roids. Neither the nurse, midwife nor five family members who witnessed my first birth thought to make any mention of mine to me or what to do about them. I discovered them a couple days later in confusion and horror from the shower, yelling to Colby, "Hurry!! There's something wrong with my butt," and made him come look.
ReplyDelete