Prune Juice & Pregnancy (age 33) ๐Ÿ˜ณ

Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play
Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid….
~Smash Mouth.

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At eight months pregnant, my friend Nancy asked me if wanted to go on a road trip with her to her hometown of Virginia Beach from Leesburg, some four and a half hours away. It was summertime, her two girls were out of school and she wanted to take them down to see their grandparents. ย We piled into her SUV with snacks and a cooler of drinks, including my ever present bottle of prune juice. ย You see, at that time, I had been told that one of the keys to a healthy pregnancy was to ensure a daily movement…of… well, the bowels. ย Always a sucker for health tips, I grasped onto said tip and sure enough, I would have a glass of cool prune juice every morning of my 270 day pregnancy term (I haven’t touched it again, since). ย Keeping that in mind, when I awoke on the second day of our trip and being out of routine, forgot to take my beloved prune juice, I was more than a little worried by mid-morning when nothing had, as of yet,ย moved.

Nancy was a nurse. ย She understood my worry. ย She asked her youngest daughter, Kerry, to bring me a glass of prune juice. ย We were seated on the patio, just taking a break after a stroll around the neighbourhood. ย Out comes eight-year old Kerry with quite a large glass of prune juice. ย Where I would normally have about four ounces, this was more like ten. ย Feeling rather touched to be served, I graciously accepted Kerry’s offering and, what the hell, drank it down, hearing Mom’s voice in my head: Waste not, want not, Morgan.

Not long thereafter, Nancy offered to take all of us for a walk on Virginia Beach, about 20 minutes away. ย We again all got into her vehicle and off we went. ย Nancy was pointing things out all the way with a look of nostalgia on her face: there was her old school; her old shopping area; her old hangout; her old favorite fast-food joint; her friend’s house. ย I could feel the vibes of her memories and could almost see a youthful Nancy running along beside us as we slowly toured the neighourhood.

Onto the highway next and up the ramp and over the bridge. ย Suddenly, my bowels started to feel odd. ย I must be imaging it, I thought. ย Everything is fine. ย Everything is fine, I thought. ย Next, out seeped a silent but deadly one with the automatic instantaneous human reactions: windows rolled down; four noses into the clean wind; worried eyes; hands over mouths. ย Sorry, sorry. ย I seem to be having a reaction to something. I told Nancy and the girls.

My guts churned and roiled and tiny stink-bomb expulsions continued. A few miles later I was bent in two holding my very pregnant middle. ย Which was difficult in itself. It was like bending over at basketball.

Oh my god Nancy, I have take a dump right now!!!

Nancy told me to hang in there and to let her know when it was a true emergency. ย She clearly did not understand. ย My pants would be soiled in a matter of minutes if I didn’t get out of the vehicle and onto a toilet. ย All I could see out the windows though, was a guard rail and what looked to be a fairly seedy area of the city.

This is truly an emergency, Nancy. ย I see an Arby’s. ย Can we go in there?

By this time I wasn’t talking very clearly because I had every part of my anatomy CLENCHED.

Nancy said,ย Morgan, that’s a really bad part of town. ย Are you sure?

Yes, Nancy. ย Hurry!

Nancy pulled in and out I got, walking funny into the Arby’s due to my full-body CLENCH coupled with my huge baby belly. ย I found the Lady’s room which was just inside the door. ย In I went and closed and latched the door. ย Maternity pants down and onto the cool toilet seat. ย What happened next was not pretty.

A bomb went off into that toilet bowl.

At that point, the couple of other ladies who had been in the bathroom, made a hasty departure with an OH MY GOD, just outside the door. ย I can hear you.ย I thought. Whatever, I had to get this out.

I was on the toilet for a few more minutes and was feeling a whole heck of a lot better. Washing well then waddling out of the Arby’s, there was Nancy with wild eyes, her driver’s side window cracked open pushing coins out to a Rastafarian-looking guy who was obviously quite down on his luck.

Jenny unlocked my door and I hopped in and off we went to the beach.

“Shit happens,” I thought.ย  It sure does.

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