vomit – Felker Family Blog

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)

10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity: Part 5 – Incontinence

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

As almost any pregnant lady can confirm, you pee absurdly often when you are pregnant. Before I became pregnant, I prided myself on my ability to hold my bladder for ridiculously long periods of time (which, by the way, I can no longer do after giving birth to a baby). However, while pregnant (and particularly near the end), I couldn’t go more than 1-1.5 hours without making a trip to see my friend Loo (even during my so-called “sleeping” hours). This is entirely normal and I know every pregnant woman reading this post right now is sighing and nodding in agreement (and probably just took a bathroom break before continuing on to the second paragraph).

Not only do you have to pee frequently while pregnant, you also lose some bladder control as well. Here’s how this plays out: You laugh…there goes a few drops of pee. You cough…there goes a few drops of pee. You sneeze…there goes a few drops of pee. You stand up…there goes a few drops of pee. You just hope all four don’t happen in succession…there is a reason people joke about pregnant women using Depends. Again, an entirely normal and common experience shared by most pregnant women.

The reality of frequent urination and loss of bladder control were mere annoyances for most my pregnancy, until I got tag teamed. What do you get when you combine a small bladder, incontinence, and a dash (or five) of nausea? Let me tell you:

When I was five months pregnant, I decided to visit a few friends from college who lived 45 minutes away. Apparently I had already forgotten all about my previous long distance visit to my mom, and the result of that. I wasn’t feeling well that day as usual, but was becoming so frustrated with the reality of being home bound that I was determined to get out and go do something. Sean knew I wasn’t feeling well, so he insisted on driving me. I did ok on the drive there, but as Sean picked me up on our way back home, I knew it would not be a good trip. Within the first five minutes, I was an 11 on my nausea scale. (The scale ranges from 1-5). However, I didn’t want to pull over because it was late, I was tired, and I just wanted to get home (sound familiar??) Fortunately, with zero talking and 100% concentration, we made it home without having a repeat barf-all-over-the-car situation.

Sean pulled into our carport, and I immediately jumped out before the car had even stopped and began walking briskly towards our apartment to meet up with my bestie Loo. About halfway there, it became painfully clear I had absolutely no chance of making it. Mid-stride, up came my dinner, and with impeccable aim splashed all over my pants and shoes. Now if this is where the story ended, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But oh no, little grapefruit-sized Caleb had decided to take it up a notch this time. As my body cruelly purged my entire dinner from earlier that night, it forcefully pushed something else out as well – an entire full bladder of urine. No, none of this “few drops” business…the whole topped off tank. So there I was, standing in our apartment complex’s carport drenched in my own vomit and urine. Head hung in defeat, I stared down at the damage and paused for several moments. I remember slowly shaking my head and thinking: “wow. just…wow. Here I am a full-blown adult, standing on a public street, drenched in my worst…A-mazing. I really don’t think it can get much better than this.” At that point, Sean had caught up to me after finishing parking the car, and I slowly turned to him and profoundly announced in my best Forest Gump voice (not sure why) – “Sean…I peed my pants.” To which he replied: “yes…I can see that.” I turned back around towards our apartment, feet turned out, slightly squatting, and snickered as I waddled slowly the rest of the way home.

I sincerely wish I could tell you that this incident was the absolute pinnacle of my worst dignity-crushing pregnancy experiences, but alas (huge sigh), it is not.

The other 9 ways pregnancy crushed my dignity:

Part 1 – Constipation
Parts 2 & 3 – Appetite and Weight Gain
Part 4 – Mourning Sickness
Part 6 – Crazy Hormones
Parts 7, 8, & 9 – Pain, Pain, Pain
Part 10, the Pinnacle – Diarrhomit

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:

10 Ways Pregnancy Crushed My Dignity: Part 4 – Mourning Sickness

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

No, I did not misspell “morning” sickness – I just think the word mourning is a much more appropriate term after vomiting well over 50 times while pregnant. “Mourning” also fits much better because there is nothing exclusively “morning” about morning sickness. I was nauseous in the morning, afternoon, evening, wee hours of the night, and everything in between.

When we discovered I was pregnant, we wanted to announce the news in a creative way as most people like to do. As we generated ideas, Sean entertained the thought of telling people the following:

“Dear friends and family – As many of you know, Melissa has been feeling very sick lately. We went to the doctor last week and they ran some tests. A small growth was discovered in her abdomen and the Dr. believes it is rapidly increasing in size. It is probable that in the next several months, it will grow to be several pounds. It doesn’t need to be removed yet, but will need to be removed in the next 7.5 months or it could become very dangerous to her health. Please pray for us, because this growth is sapping her energy, stealing her best nutrients, making her vomit all the time, causing her to be emotionally unstable, and will completely drain our savings account as time goes on. In other words…we’re pregnant!”

We ultimately decided that kind of announcement was just mean, but throughout my pregnancy, Caleb truly had disturbing similarities to a parasite. After all, the definition of parasite is “an animal or plant that lives in or on another (the host) from which it obtains nourishment. The host is often harmed by it.” Yep, sounds about right.

Most women’s nausea/morning sickness wears off by the second trimester (fortunately), but mine lasted throughout the entire pregnancy…I was still vomiting the week Caleb was born. By the tenth week of my pregnancy, I had thrown up so many times I lost count. Early on, I was quite familiar with “vomiting marathons” as I liked to call them, in which I found myself barfing with almost no breaks in between. These marathons would typically leave my body extremely sore, because apparently upchucking uses every…last…muscle in your body – who knew?? During one such marathon, I actually threw my back out and could barely move because I had heaved so violently and so many times in one night. In fact, at the peak of the marathon insanity, I vomited eight times, yes – eight times, in less than four hours. I had had enough. At this point I was so dehydrated and weak that Sean considered taking me to the hospital. I called my Dr., and she immediately prescribed medication which I then took multiple times a day for the rest of my pregnancy (it was mind-blowingly helpful in ending the vomiting marathons, but still didn’t completely take away the nausea/end the vomiting). I really would have preferred to avoid medication like that, but reasoned it would have most likely been more harmful to Caleb if I had died of starvation/dehydration, ha!

I am trying to keep these blogs funny and light, but here’s where I’ll just be blunt – it was an exceptionally challenging season of life for me. I was scared to go out anywhere, for fear that I would just lose it and barf all over myself, other people, store floors, the car, etc. This fear led me to a life of severe isolation for nine months and made for an incredibly awful experience (there were times I didn’t even leave our apartment for five days straight). Even as I write and reflect back on this season of life now, tears come to my eyes because it was so miserable and depressing.

Fortunately, Cru allowed me to do a lot of work from home and my bosses were super flexible with me and my situation (though I was saddened I couldn’t do more hands-on ministry with the students). However, other normal, basic activities became a daily struggle. I couldn’t get through a shower without nearly losing my latest meal (for whatever reason, taking a shower always brought me to the point of incessant dry heaving…luckily I was always able to get out before it was too late). I couldn’t drive without getting queasy. I couldn’t be around people who wore perfume or used strong laundry detergent (I even had to switch out my own shampoo/conditioner for ones that had a less potent smell). It was difficult to go to other people’s homes/go to the store because I couldn’t handle new, different, and/or powerful smells. The few times I went shopping, I had to hold my breath as much as possible – every time I went to Target I was so embarrassed because I couldn’t keep myself from dry heaving every few minutes (garnering plenty of amused stares!) I couldn’t exercise or clean because both required more movement than my stomach could handle. I couldn’t cook because of the smell. I couldn’t even take “normal” medicine – I had to take a dissolving kind because I would immediately throw up anything needing to be swallowed with water. It was truly an ironic situation; in the course of growing a baby, I felt as useless and helpless as a baby myself. I was forced to rely on Sean (and others) in more ways than I ever had before – it was quite the humbling experience.

Ok, enough of the depressing talk…back to a story we can laugh about now. As you can imagine, the toilet was my best friend throughout my pregnancy. Between blowing chunks, constipation, and peeing constantly, I swear I saw more of the toilet than I saw of Sean. Unfortunately, I wasn’t always so lucky to have my good buddy by my side. Earlier on in my pregnancy (before I knew that driving more than 10 minutes in the car was a high-risk endeavor), Sean and I decided to visit my mom who lived 45 minutes south of us. The entire visit I felt nauseous and terrible, but that had become the norm for me. I became thirsty while there, and helped myself to a lemonade. Mistake #1. It came time to drive home, and as soon as we got on the freeway, that all-too-familiar feeling came over me, but I thought to myself: “I am tired and just want to get home…I can hold it back.” Mistake #2. Cognizant of how often I was vomiting, I had intended to grab some barf bags from my mom’s house before we left. However, as I was desperately holding the barf back, it dawned on me that I had left them on the kitchen table. Mistake #3.

As that horrifying realization swept over me, so did an ample amount of puke…all over the center console, myself, the seat, and the floor. Here’s where mistake #1 comes in – citrus drinks are simply not as good on the way out as they are on the way in…just so you know. My nose was on fire, my throat was on fire, and Sean could barely drive because the sounds and smells were causing him to retch himself. We rolled down the windows and for the next 40 minutes until we got home, Sean and I held our breath hoping neither would lose it and vomit again due to the putrid smell. I was hoping to remain somewhat attractive to my husband during pregnancy, but after marinating in my own throw up for 40 minutes with Sean by my side, I just let that hope die. By the time we pulled up to our apartment, I had the all-too-familiar urge again, and Sean didn’t even have time to park. I jumped out of the car, ran up the stairs to our apartment, and was never more relieved to see my best friend Loo waiting there for me 🙂

The other 9 ways pregnancy crushed my dignity:

Part 1 – Constipation
Parts 2 & 3 – Appetite and Weight Gain
Part 5 – Incontinence
Part 6 – Crazy Hormones
Parts 7, 8, & 9 – Pain, Pain, Pain
Part 10, the Pinnacle – Diarrhomit

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: