I was reading Mama Nabi's blog post from yesterday, and she mentioned that she got a fax from Mr. Brown while she was in labor. Her husband--PN--felt he should announce this to the entire delivery room, which was mean and unnecessary. But I started thinking about this whole dooky thing, and I can't help wondering why this fact of labor is shrouded in secrecy. It's natural, so why should we feel embarassed.Based on the commentors on MN's blog, a lot of women drop a deuce during labor. Probably most women do. Isn't there safety in numbers?
Now that we are on the subject, I'll share with you a little story about what often happens after the baby comes. When Booper was about 3 weeks old, I was struggling mightily with the breastfeeding. For one, I could only nurse on the right side due to a lumpectomy I had on the left side when I was a teenager (that's a whole other story I won't bore you with now.) The left one made milk, but I couldn't get it out. Wow! Engorgement is no joke. So I was just nursing on the right. The right side, unfortunately, had developed a yeast infection from the antibiotics I was given during labor. (I became feverish, and they didn't know why, so they just threw a bunch of meds at me to see what would stick.) Any of you who have had mammary yeast know that it hurts like a mo-fo. And modern medicine has come up with exactly ZERO effective ways to treat this nightmare. But to address the pain, my doctor gave me some Tylenol #3 (you know, the good kind, with the codeine.)
Long story longer, Tylenol #3 can be very constipating. As can breastfeeding, if you don't drink enough water. Between the two, I became so stool-challenged that I passed out on the toilet trying to do my thing. That's right. Fainted dead away, banged my head on the sink, and hit the deck. With my maternity panties around my ankles and my nursing nightie in a twist.
Fortunately, the Handyman was home and he helped me get into bed (now that, people, is love.) The next day, I went to the doctor to get a check-up. Of course, first time in my life that I have a cute young doctor. Imagine my joy when I get to say, "Well, Dr. Delicious, last night I passed out on the crapper. How's your day going?"
Once again, I find myself at the end of my post without a point. I'll get back to you on this. Or better yet, can we go interactive and you can tell me my point in the comments section?
5 comments:
Um, to make us laugh? And also make us feel bad for you at the same time?
yes, i hope that the point was to be funny because you just made me laugh really hard. oh my goodness, the things that we don't know will happen to us when we become moms. yikes!
i totally feel your pain. literally. not only did those mean old hemmoroids come in to play, but i think i was there for an hour, trying...while my child was crying for the boob. luckily hubby was around to try and placate, but still not pleasant. thanks for sharing.
...um, there's no shame in pooping? Haha, I totally thought you were talking about an old post or something as I puzzled over, "Now, who was this Mr. Brown I blogged about?" ah, cute euphemisms do make poop sound so palatable. (NOT literally, though.)
The thing was - I totally prepared him for it! I've warned him over and over again because he was having such a hard time accepting that as a normal expected event during childbirth. I think I was more mortified from being embarrassed of him - that my doctor, nurse, med student all got to hear what an idiot I married.
Speaking of - I remember trying to re-learn how to poop the first 2 weeks after LN's birth... if LN cried, PN would bring her to the loo and have me hold her while I was trying to redial Mr. Brown's fax number...
Wow... fainting on the crapper - that's dedication on your part. And thank goodness for the laugh I just had! With most sincere sympathies... of course.
Dude, I was given fair warning after I gave birth by my mom, something along the lines of, "if you don't drink water continuously now you're going to totally regret it", which was the opening line to HER first post partum pooper nightmare. Of course I was too tired to even think of drinking water and then the whole process of walking back and forth to the loo...plus I'm not much of a liquid drinker anyway.
Well, fast forward to the trip home and to make a long story (TMI ALERT, I REPEAT TMI ALERT) short, after 3 days I had to resort to manually dialing the fax to Mr. Brown. Digital covering of course. But none the less traumatizing as I heard the admonition from my mother in my head over and over again, "it will be the consistency of CONCRETE if you don't drink water".
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