That Time I Pooped The Bed


SPOILER ALERT- the title of this blog post is pretty self explanatory.

Picture it: February 2017. A beautiful young peasant girl went into labor with her second child. 

I jest. But in true Sophia, the original O-G Golden Girl fashion, I am sharing what could (or should?) be to some, the most embarrassing moment of their lives. 

So we all hear about it. We all cringe thinking about it. "Don't poop the bed!" Or "I hope I don't poop the bed!" Or any other version of the inevitable. But very rarely do people freely share what happens when that nightmare turns into a reality.

So I went into labor. This wasn't our first rodeo, so we were ready. I was exactly 40 weeks pregnant. It was around 8pm and I was in bed, frantically working to get as many emails filed and project notes updated so that there would be a smooth transition when I left for 12 weeks. I started having regular contractions and eventually it was time to go to the hospital. 

Fast forward to the delivery room. Now, this was a different hospital and different State than the last time. When I had Mimi, I was hooked up to a supply of drugs, and the nurses sent from above gave me a button that I could push to get more of the magic Mommy juice. This time, my nurses set me up with a fixed amount that came premeasured in a syringe. The first syringe, I note, leaked out onto the floor and created a minor quarrel between my two nurses, but they eventually got their act together and got me a second syringe.

After about 5 minutes I had to call the nurse back in. You see, with Mimi, I was COMPLETELY numb. I felt nothing, nada, zip, zilch, zero below the waist. This time,, it seemed like the epidural got rid of the pain of contractions, but I could still feel everything.

"Nurse. I don't think this is right. I have feeling. I don't want to feel ANYTHING"."

"No honey, we WANT you to feel. Because we WANT you to get the natural urge. Because we WANT you to push." 

So this was a significant departure from my expectations going into this experience. Still, I sucked it up and I just figured this is how they do it in the South.

So sure enough, I got my urge, and it was time to empty my belly. So I pushed. And pushed. And I pushed some more. Only this time I could feel. I could feel everything that was happening. Then I felt it. I felt something coming out of me that wasn't a baby. 

Six people (including my husband) stood between my legs. I was mortified. One battle scarred nurse came over and with one swift flick of her wrist was able to pick up the poop and wipe my butt at the same time then throw the package in the biohazard trash.

I wasn't ready for what happened next. 

Absolutely NOTHING. 

They all acted like absolutely nothing happened, then continued coaching me through labor.  I made one final push, and this time, it wasn't a false alarm. King was born.

V and I never spoke about the incident.  I was so embarrassed and I didn't want to bring it up. I obsessed about it for 3 months. But finally I mustered up the courage to I to address the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry about the poop." 

"What poop?" 

 "THE poop. The one where you and 5 other people stood there and watched me poop on the bed. You see, when women are in the process of delivery, sometimes they poop because there is a natural urge to push and bear down, and the same muscles you use for pushing a baby out are the same muscles you use for pushing a poop out. It was never my intention to poop in front of an audience but these things happen, and I'm not sorry that it happened, I'm just sorry you had to witness it and I just feel like this is something we need to talk about so we can process and move on. Are you going to be ok?"

"Yo. You pooped the bed?"