It’s ateast the third contraction in a row I feel someone wipe my ass. Great. So not only am I buck naked, making inhumane sounds with my ass waving in the air, I might be shitting myself? On my own bed? Wtf! What a moment to have in front of my husband, mom, midwife, doula, mother in law and sister in law. Fuck! Why did I invite so many people to watch?!!
Oh, that’s right. It was supposed to be a calm and maybe even orgasmic birth. Bull shit. That’s definitely NOT what I’m getting. I’m a fucking sucker for thinking this would be sexy and easy. I feel sweaty, yucky, cranky, frustrated and like my vagina, butt and back are inching closer to a simultaneous explosion every contraction.
Recovering from the last contraction, I sit up on my knees and ask “did I just poo?!”
“A little,” the midwife confirmed. “You’re doing great.”
Groaning, I shove my face back into the pillows and instinctively my butt goes back to its position in the air. “How am I pooping?” I whine. “I went earlier and I’m not even pushing yet!”
“Poo is good” someone reminds me and I grunt in response/acceptance.
Logically I know that pooping is important to keep your colon clear for baby to navigate the pathway. But now I’m acutely aware of poo in my butthole that I don’t think I’m imagining. The next contraction only makes the feeling worse.
“Oh fuck, another one,” I whine into the pillow and squeeze my husband’s hand.
“Let your body do what it needs to do,” he encourages.
Grunting, I push lightly into my bottom to help along any plugged up poo that didn’t come out earlier.
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