This too shall pass . . .

(Written on 6/3 and posted on 6/4)

I have very vivid memories of the last time I spent so much time in and around hospitals. It was a little over 8 years ago when Charlie was born.

My water broke on Friday night/Saturday morning at 12:45. He was born 2 hours and 45 minutes later at 3:30 am at Lake Norman Regional Medical Center- 4 and 1/2 weeks early. I was in the hospital bed for 9 minutes before his little red head made its appearance.

There was not time for an epidural, the episiotomy was a slice between contractions. During those 9 minutes I blew out most of the blood vessels in my eyes, pushed so hard against my own hands holding my legs open that I had 2 perfectly shaped hand-sized bruises on my inner thighs, and one each of the nurse’s hand and Erik’s hand on the bottom of each of my feet.

Less than 30 hours later I checked myself out of the hospital so I could go to Charlotte to be with my baby , who had been transferred to the NICU at Presbyterian . . .I remember that there was some discussion about whether or not I could leave because I had not had a bowel movement yet. The BM is very important to all people medical—they want to know that your gut is working. At the time, mine was not, and I didn’t care. I was going to Charlotte , poop or no poop.

About a week later while Charlie was still in the NICU and I had been driving back and forth there twice a day, pumping milk at home, freezing it, taking it in, not sleeping for pain and worry etc etc I burst into tears in front of Erik over something completely unrelated and he said, “What is the matter with you?” “What is the matter with me?” I said. “My baby is in the hospital 20 miles away, my body aches all over, my nipples are one giant blister from the breast pump and I haven’t pooped in a week! That’s what’s wrong with me!” This was not recounted in a normal tone of voice.

I will NEVER forget the response. “You haven’t@#%^ pooped in a week? What do you mean? How is that possible? How can anyone go a *&^%$ week without pooping?” This was said with a bit of shock and amazement in his voice. Pushing out the baby with no pain meds didn’t impress him, the blown out blood vessels, hand shaped bruises, sleep deprivation , etc. etc. were of no concern, but NOT POOPING for 6 days was huge!

And now, I have broken my own record.

Every day that I was in the hospital, they listened with a stethoscope to my gut, hoping to hear what they described as “normal bowel sounds” My farts were applauded in a way they haven’t been since I was a baby. (Remember that with your own kids?) and still when last Friday came around and I was ready to go home there was some concern about whether it was ok----having not had the big BM and all.

So . . .I lied. Sort of. Not really. Ok, I lied. The nurse said, “Bowel movement?” and I said, “Sure!” Now I am pretty sure that she was asking IF I had had one, and I’m pretty sure that she took my answer to mean that I had, but what I really meant was, “Sure, that would be lovely, can you order one right up?” Anyway. I busted out of the joint and here I am 9 days later.

I did actually confess this to Dr Kamerer on Tuesday when he took out my stitches and he chuckled a bit, said it was a big side effect of the pain meds, that I should drink more, that I should walk more and that this too would pass. (pun intended)

The good news is that I have probably only eaten about 2 1/2 days worth of food in the last 9 days so I’m not in any real discomfort. I have taken all manner of helpful over the counter meds to speed the process along and everyone in the house has become as intuned to my BM’s as the hospital nurses with their stethoscopes. Jason casually asks if “I had any luck in the bathroom?” when he calls to check in on me from work. Mom raises her eyebrows in question when I return from going pee, and Charlie, who is the king of poop conversation even in normal times, assures me that he is “sure that I will feel better if I could just poop---sometimes pooping just feels so good ,Mom, you know? It makes you feel all cleaned out inside.” I explained that I did, in fact, know this to be true, and that I was sure that he was right.

Not long after I began writing this post, during dinner, I felt a funny sensation (not funny really just one I hadn’t felt in a while) and I excused myself to the bathroom, when I returned, a surprisingly short time later, my entire family looked up at me expectantly. “Yeah! Success! The poop cometh!” I did a little happy dance. Jason cheered. Mom smiled, and Charlie said, “Gee Mom, you sure are excited about a little poop.”

Yes, Charlie I am.