The Indescribable Joys of Constipation

When it comes to my health, I tend to err on the side of hypochondria. That cough is actually pneumonia. The bruise on my leg signals leukemia. When I began to feel nauseous in the morning? I needed my gallbladder out.

I only convinced myself more that I needed surgery immediately when I began to have heartburn. Nausea and heartburn? I was going to die!

Luckily, I wasn’t dying. I had morning sickness.

Morning sickness wasn’t the only problem I had at the beginning of both of my pregnancies. I also had terrible constipation. You know, the kind where you lay on the floor, grabbing your belly and moaning in pain.

For some reason, my body decided it needed to suck the nutrients out of all my food for the clump of cells sitting in my belly.

I’d have to sit on the toilet, trying breathing techniques I learned on birthing shows. I’d deep breathe. I’d focus. I’d try to distract myself with magazines.

“I can’t do this!” I’d cry. “How can I have a baby if I can’t even poop without crying?”