10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity: Part 10, the Pinnacle – Diarrhomit

If you haven’t yet read the intro to this series, you should do so before reading on for some context.

Ok, so I’ve already covered the constipation, appetite issues, weight gain, “morning” sickness, incontinence, crazy hormones, back pain, rib pain, and pelvic pain. What could possibly be left, you ask? Well, ironically, the worst night of my entire pregnancy was instigated by something that had nothing to do with pregnancy, but was made so much worse by the fact that I was pregnant and already miserable. The story goes something like this:

Midway through my pregnancy, Sean and I were hanging out on the couch watching TV, when I was suddenly hit with the absolute *worst* cramps I had ever experienced in my entire life. They were toe-curlers for sure – I couldn’t breathe, talk, or move when they occurred. Approximately 30 minutes after their onset, Sean had himself convinced that I was experiencing labor contractions – MUCH too early. As we debated whether or not to go to the hospital, I paid closer attention to the pain and decided they felt more like intestinal cramps than uterine cramps. I eventually convinced Sean that I was not going into labor and that my body would resolve the issue on its own. At that point it was past midnight, so I told him he should just go to bed because he had to get up extra early the next morning.

The cramps continued increasing in intensity, and I vividly recall lying in a fetal position on the floor outside our bathroom with my face smashed into the carpet, butt up in the air, rocking back and forth as I prayed that God would relieve the pain quickly. Two hours (and a semi-permanent carpet imprint on my face) later, I finally got that familiar feeling which confirmed my pain was indeed intestinal. Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking – “oh crap…not another poop story.” Mm hmm, that’s right…another poop story. Uncomfortable? Read this book to help you overcome.

I mustered up the courage to drag myself off the floor and tried my darndest to get things moving. Unfortunately, it was slow progress (remember, I was ridiculously constipated and probably had about a weeks worth of backlog to unload before clearing the way for any of the new stuff). I made my way back and forth between the toilet and my balled-up position on the floor, and this pattern continued for about 30 minutes. As the cramps became worse and peaked in potency, the overwhelming pain began triggering waves of nausea (recall that I was easily susceptible to nausea during my entire pregnancy).

By the time 3 am rolled around and I had taken five or six trips to the bathroom, I eventually managed to de-clog the gatekeepers and was feeling optimistic that the next round could be the winner. I dragged myself off the floor once again and plopped myself on the toilet – just in time for the floodgates to open. It literally felt like I was pooping out my last six meals – in liquid form. As awesome as this felt, it pushed my growing nausea over the top. It was the point of no return – I knew the vomit was coming whether I liked it or not. I yelled at the top of my lungs for Sean (who was asleep) to “bring me something to barf in NOW!!” With an impressive fireman-like response time, he jumped out of bed, ran down the hall, and I heard him dump the contents of our trash can in the middle of the living room. At the same moment he yelled “hold on, I’m bringing the trash can!”, an explosive amount of vomit erupted from my mouth – all over myself, the bath tub, and the floor…all the while diarrhea-ing out my seventh and eighth latest meal 🙂 And Sean says I’m not a good multi-tasker…

So that’s when Sean arrived on the scene – and let me tell you, it was quite the scene to behold. After assuring alarmed, half-asleep Sean that my vomit was red due to the hot cheetoes I had consumed the day before and not blood, he said “I’ll be right back,” and left before I could ask where he was going. He quickly returned – camera in hand. I’m pretty sure I said something like “are you serious right now!?” To which he replied “oh yeah, dead serious…we eventually have to show the baby all the havoc he has caused.” I at least convinced him to let me clean myself up, flush the toilet, and return to my cocoon on the floor before he proceeded to take pictures of the vomit-filled bath tub. So in case any of you questioned the validity of this story – here is the evidence:

I’m sorry, I know this picture is absolutely disgusting and it is 100% not kosher to post something like this on a blog (or anywhere for that matter), but I just couldn’t resist. Again, I apologize. *Snicker snicker* haha! I should really write a sequel to the “everyone poops” book called “everyone vomits” with this picture on the cover…it’s sure to be a hit.

Well that little incident of “diarrhomit” as I like to call it definitely brought quite a bit of relief, but I was still in a significant amount of pain even after that. As Sean cleaned up the toilet, floor, and bath tub (what a sucker), I returned to my fetal position and continued to wait. Finally, after three of four more rounds, my body finished purging what I later discovered was moldy raspberries. Apparently there’s nothing like moldy raspberries when it comes to making your body want to explode out of every orifice…it’s such a shame too, raspberries used to be my favorite fruit.

So there you have it…it was the food poisoning and resulting diarrhomit that ultimately takes the dignity-crushing cake of the whole 9 months. Others come very close, but I do declare that the combination of labor-like cramps, stained toilet, vomit-covered bathroom, and trash-filled living room makes this incident the trophy winner.

I hope you enjoyed reading this series and got something out of it – maybe a laugh, encouragement, education, your own bout of nausea from that picture above, or increased empathy for those who have difficult pregnancies. Oh and just in case you’re wondering, the doc told me my next pregnancy would be just as awful. So for all you sadists out there, I’m signing off until next time…

The other 9 ways pregnancy crushed my dignity:

Part 1 – Constipation
Parts 2 & 3 – Appetite and Weight Gain
Part 4 – Mourning Sickness
Part 5 – Incontinence
Part 6 – Crazy Hormones
Parts 7, 8, & 9 – Pain, Pain, Pain

Also, read about Caleb’s birth:

Caleb’s Birth Story: Rated PG-13 for Language, Nudity, and Drugs 🙂

And here’s the adventures we had after Caleb’s birth:

Caleb’s Afterbirth – the Hospital (Part 1)
Caleb’s Afterbirth – the Neighbs (Part 2)
Caleb’s Afterbirth – Breastfeeding Blues (Part 3)

Caleb’s Afterbirth – Body Slammed (Part 4)
Caleb’s Afterbirth – Am I an Incompetent Parent (Part 5)

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Melissa Felker

I blog to share my life, entertain, inspire, inform, encourage, challenge (both myself and others), and of course, for personal therapy - haha! I love to write about meaningful experiences and a wide range of topics I find interesting. I particularly enjoy sharing life in a raw and barely censored fashion because I highly value authenticity.

4 thoughts on “10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity: Part 10, the Pinnacle – Diarrhomit”

  1. just so you know, i am the one that selected “disagree” for my reaction to this blog. (i don’t know if it shows as anonymous or not.) i am not totally sure why, but i just looked at all of the options, and because of a mixture of my sympathy for you, for sean, and my feeling that these types of events should not exist, i selected disagree. yeah.
    love, tara

  2. Thanks for sharing Melissa. This series left me encouraged, knowing the odds that I probably won’t have it as bad as you when I’m pregnant, discouraged, knowing the odds that I possibly could, and completely entertained for the last hour as I read. -Alyssa

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