The Unfortunately True Story of A Pregnant Lady With the Stomach Flu

“Oh SHIT!” I don't even curse, but the phrase rolled off my tongue like it was for me and my life and this moment.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me just back up a little bit.

It was a Tuesday evening and I had just finished a long shift at work and was ready to come home and relax. Did I mention I was 8 months pregnant and puffier than one of those extra large marshmallows that never seem to get quite cooked in the middle over a bonfire? Pregnant, puffy, joints aching, stomach itchy. What else could go wrong? Well, let me tell you much more could go wrong....

I looked through the cupboards to find a gem of a meal. I reached for a can of soup that evening and thought “this will have to do for supper”. The husband didn’t complain. He knew better than to complain to a cranky, puffy, pregnant lady.

Broccoli cheese soup it was. Broccoli cheese soup I will never eat again...

A few hours later, after finishing supper, I was sitting at my table, working on a puzzle and watching the snow fall. It was a beautiful evening and all seemed right in the world. Isn’t that how most horror stories start?

All of a sudden my stomach started to gurgle and rumble in ways that I knew were trouble. The organs inside me felt like an accordion being pulled and pushed together again. I ran to my husband and said “Housten, we have a problem!” My husband looked at me and stated that he too was experiencing some rather unpleasant feelings. We waited in terror of what the next 24 hours may hold for us.

It all became a blur. The toilet, the stomach pains, the pleads to Jesus to rid me from this evil stomach flu. He didn’t answer my prayers. I’m still having trust issues with Him to this day.

You may be reading this saying “But Ruth, everyone gets the stomach flu. How could that be one of the most embarrassing moments of your life?”

Well, let me tell you.

That evening, after emptying everything but the baby out of my system I crawled into bed to try and get some much needed rest. Exhausted, weak, and acid reflux as I had never experienced in my life I tried to get some rest and finally drifted into a slumber. As the evening turned into early morning, I awoke only to realize I was laying in wetness. Did my water break? Am I going into labor?? I raced out of bed and flipped the light switch on, only to realize that no, my water had not broken, I didn’t pee in the bed. No no, much worse. I...shit...the...bed. My husband and I looked at each other and then away and then back at each other.

I felt humiliated. Me, a grown woman pooping the bed? What was worse, is that it wasn’t even our mattress. We were renting the home. My husband never muttered a word of disgust. He knew better than that.

Like two villain's cleaning up a crime scene, we got to work attempting to clean the mattress that now had poo stain on it. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed some more as tears were literally falling out of my eyes. We flipped the mattress, put on new sheets and did not speak of the incident again.

It is a risky life we lead now. Knowing the secrets that went on in that house. All has worked out. I had my daughter 4 weeks later at 10.4 pounds, and my husband still found me attractive enough to knock me up once more after that. We still never speak of the incident and we we will never eat Broccoli soup ever again.