A story by Christine

My name is Julie and I remember that it was late winter during the year I was in twelfth grade and just turned eighteen. As with so many people at that time of year I had caught a terrible cold that had migrated from my throat to my head and then settled in my chest. To help with the symptoms, my mom had been giving me aspirin as well as a decongestant. While this helped with my sinuses, it also had the side of effect of making me exceptionally constipated.

It was a Saturday morning and still in my nightshirt I went downstairs to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out a container of juice.

"Good morning, honey. Feeling any better?" asked mom.

"A little bit. At least I can breathe this morning. But I haven't been to the bathroom since Tuesday."

"Oh, Oh. You better eat some prunes this morning. It think there's a jar open in the fridge. That always helps me," she replied.

"I tried that yesterday and it didn't work at all. Mom, I hate to say it, but do you think you could give me an enema this morning?" I couldn't believe what I was saying, but I couldn't remember when I had been so bound up and feeling so sluggish. It had been a few years since mom had to give me my last enema, all I could remember was that I did not like them very much. But as a child, whether I liked it or not didn't matter because she was always very determined and once it was decided that I was going to get one, no amount of whining or complaining was ever going to change her mind.

"That's probably a good idea, Julie. It will help you very quickly. Besides I think you are old enough at 18 to learn how to give yourself one. It's not that difficult to learn to do correctly. As soon as you finish your juice and we can go upstairs."

As I finished my juice and put down the glass I could feel the old familiar nervousness in the pit of my stomach. It was the same feeling I used to get when I was younger and mom would announce that I would be getting an enema before bed. With mixed feelings, one of reluctance and the other of real need for relief, I went up the stairs and entered the hall bathroom. This was the one I normally used as mom and dad had their own bathroom off their bedroom.

"Honey, I'm just going to sit here and coach you a bit, but you will be the one to give yourself the enema. OK?" Mom was sitting on the edge of the tub, but I could see that she had already retrieved from the hall linen closet everything I was going to need. On the vanity counter was a jar of Vaseline, a large measuring cup, a new bar of Ivory soap and that familiar large flat box labeled "Davol Comfy Fountain Syringe." This last item had been in the house for as long as I could remember and over the years had given me most of those dreaded enemas of my childhood.

"It's not difficult and once you learn to do it right, you'll always remember how. Start by running the water and while waiting for it to get warm enough, open the soap and put it in the bottom of the measuring cup. Keep testing the water temperature with your fingers because you don't want it cool, but not too hot either."

"I think this feels about right," I told mom as I held a finger under the running faucet.

"Then fill the cup about half way. You only need about a quart for a good cleaning out."

As I filled the cup the warm water started to dissolve some of the soap that was now floating on top turning the entire amount into a slightly milky solution.

"That looks about right. Now attach the nozzle to the hose and the other end of the hose to the bottom of the bag." It was the first time I'd seen a vaginal nozzle and I picked it up to look at it.

"That's for douching," said mom. "Although you've started getting your period, I don't think you'll be needing that for a few years yet. The other nozzle is called a rectal nozzle and is the one you need to attach onto the hose."

All of a sudden this enema bag looked huge and that nervous feeling returned now with a vengeance. I was remembering everything now with the clearest details. But I also remembered how much I wanted to be able to be able to go again.

"Now close the clamp, take the soap out of the cup of water, and pour the solution into the bag." As I did this the bag went from flat to slightly bulging and with it the realization came to me that all of those enemas of earlier years that I thought were so huge, were in reality probably pretty small. In fact they were most likely smaller than this, but then again, they sure did work. I don't ever remember getting one that failed to give the results that mom wanted.

Mom continued, "Put the nozzle in the sink an open the clamp until the water starts to come out. Then close the clamp again."

"What's that for?" I asked.

"That lets the air out of the hose and makes sure that you don't get a tummy ache. Now hang the bag from the towel rack, spread a few bath towels on the floor and take off your nightshirt."

The moment of truth was soon arriving. The difficult part was taking off the nightshirt as girls at this age are very conscious of their bodies, even in front of their moms. "It's OK. I've seen you naked before. Put a big glob of Vaseline on your finger and put a little on the nozzle. You're doing just fine. Mommy is so proud of you."

Those words meant a lot to me because I was sure nervous at this point. I wanted to take this enema and be grown up about it, but I also hated the idea.

"Julie, take the rest of the Vaseline and rub it up into your bum."

"Oh, gross," I thought. As I did this it felt very strange, but also kind of comforting. While I didn't push my finger up very far I could also feel my bum relax and open up a bit.

"So far you've done the difficult part. Taking an enema is a lot easier than making it. The only thing to remember now is we're not in any rush. All you need to do is lie down on the towels on your left side and pull your right leg up to your chest."

This sure felt like a weird position to be in, but I did what mom told me to do. But this was different because my earliest enemas were given with me lying over mom's lap. All but the last one, that is, when she had me lie face down on my bed.

"You're ready to put the nozzle in, Julie. Just slip it in as far as it will go. It will be a lot easier if you relax. So just before you put it in, take a deep breath."

Mom was right, it did just slip in, and it didn't hurt at all. Fact was I kind of liked the feeling.

"Here you go now. Release the clamp a take a few nice slow deep breaths and you'll be surprised how your body will take the enema without any problems."

I did, but I started to cramp so I said excitedly, "Mom, it hurts. I've gotta go now."

"Just relax. You'll be OK," came her reassurance. "Just pinch the hose a little with your fingers and everything will be alright when you slow the flow down a bit."

Again, I did and she was right. A few minutes went by and I let my fingers go. The enema was filling me again. I could feel the warmth and as I looked down could see that my tummy was expanding a bit too.

"You have just a little more left. You're doing fine. Take the whole thing. That's it." Finally, mom said, "You can shut the clamp now, sweetie, but don't take the nozzle out just yet. You've got to give it a little time to work."

As I felt the enema churning away at the four days worth that had accumulated I started to feel like I had to go, and go real bad. It wasn't going to wait long, either.

Before I could say anything, mom said, "I think you're ready to take out the nozzle and go sit on the john." I didn't need any encouragement and in moments the soapy water was gushing out of me carrying with it both large and small pieces of fecal matter. I was sure glad to get rid of the enema, but even more glad to be able to finally go. When I was done I cleaned myself up and put my nightshirt back on.

"Tell me, Julie, that wasn't so bad now. Was it?"

"No, mom, it wasn't. Thanks for being such a good coach," I bashfully admitted.

"The last thing we have to do is clean up the syringe and hang it from the shower to drain. But I think it might also be a good idea if you wanted to give yourself another one later this afternoon. After all you were pretty well plugged up."

"You really think I need to do that? I asked.

"Yes, I do, but that one I want you to do totally on your own. The practice will be good for you, too."