I had no plans to go without proper undergarments that particular day. As I sat at the conference table, I shifted nervously in my seat, trying to create a barrier between myself and the woman beside me. A weak smile crossed my lips as I hoped she couldn’t detect any unpleasant odors wafting from my direction.
Clearly, I didn’t plan to have an accident either.
In a bid for stealth, I dropped my pen on the floor, allowing me to lean down and discreetly check if there was any offensive smell. To my relief, I didn’t pick up anything too alarming, but my anxiety lingered.
Time crawled at a snail’s pace.
Usually, I would have made it to my office with time to spare for a quick restroom visit. But today was a different story. Instead of my usual routine, I found myself in a room full of colleagues discussing bioterrorism strategies—just moments after I had created my own personal disaster.
I was only a few weeks post-surgery, which had been necessary due to the aftermath of childbirth. Yes, I had surgery on my rear end. The technical term for this procedure is lateral internal sphincterotomy, which is performed when anal fissures—like the ones I endured from difficult deliveries—refuse to heal. And you thought pregnancy-related issues were tough!
According to my colorectal surgeon, we all have two sphincters. Apparently, one is all you need. To facilitate healing, the surgeon cuts the internal sphincter, preventing spasms and temporarily weakening the muscle. It sounds nightmarish (and it was), but after two years of discomfort, I was ready for anything.
The surgery was a success, or so I thought. On this fateful day, however, I realized just how crucial that second sphincter was, especially when I found myself in a tight spot.
After dropping off my two little ones, I headed to work, expecting to have time for a quick bathroom break before diving into my day. But fate had other plans, and I ended up at a different location, ten extra minutes away.
About five minutes into my drive, I felt a rumble in my stomach. By three minutes out, it was clear this was no drill. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, clenching as if my life depended on it. I was determined not to have an accident!
Unfortunately, one anal muscle was missing, thanks to Dr. Sphincter. As the reality of my situation sank in, I leaned forward, tightened my body, and prayed for a miracle. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I took a sharp corner and barreled into the parking lot—I’m not sure I even parked properly! Grabbing my purse, I hurried toward the entrance, desperately trying to keep everything under control. It hurt.
Fortunately, the restrooms were just inside the main lobby. I was early—thank goodness—so no one from my meeting witnessed my awkward, panicked hobble toward the ladies’ room.
What happened next was far from dignified.
My body, sensing the bathroom was near, relaxed. Just inside the door, I realized I wouldn’t make it without some damage control.
Full-on panic mode kicked in. I fumbled to drop my personal belongings, nearly tripping as I dashed toward the stall. With the door wide open, I turned, yanked down my pants, and felt a wave of relief wash over me.
You can imagine the chaos. Thankfully, the mess was mostly limited to my underwear (and my pride). Of all days, I was wearing one of my favorite pairs! But in that moment, sentiment had to be set aside. Off they came, wrapped in paper towels and thrown into the trash.
I quickly grabbed some wet paper towels, gave myself a sponge bath, and darted back to my stall, praying that no unsuspecting soul would enter the restroom while I was in recovery mode. Once I felt reasonably clean, I took a deep breath, glanced in the mirror, and washed my hands one last time just to be sure.
Eventually, my rear end healed up, but my ego? That’s still a work in progress.
If you’re interested in more tales about the ups and downs of parenting, check out this post on our blog. For those considering home insemination, Make a Mom provides great resources, and the CDC offers excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
This humorous account narrates a day when everything went wrong for a mother recovering from surgery. Caught off guard by an urgent situation, she navigates the chaos of a bathroom emergency while trying to maintain her dignity, all while reflecting on the challenges of parenting. The story blends humor and honesty, showcasing the unpredictable nature of life as a parent.