How were your enemas given when growing up?

My mother was the merciless enema nurse. If she decided that an enema was necessary, it was done; a discussion about it was always hopeless.

At first the red one-piece rubber bulbs found their way up my butt, later those with the black Bakelite nozzles. At some point an enameled irrigator and an open rubber bag moved into our bathroom.

All things that commanded respect from anyone who hated enemas.

It was always the bulb, always in the bathroom, and always by my dad. The only exception was the one time when I graduated to the bag. For some reason that ended my getting enemas. It was also around the time when my dread of getting them was changing into an interest, and that may have played a part.

I remember over the knee then ones older on all fours

Always over my mothers knees. For the longest time it was two or three times a week...

@KY_kid Always over my mothers knees. For the longest time it was two or three times a week...

That's often - were you a poor eater? I only ask because I was.

My mom gave the vast majority of them. My dad administered them a few times as I got older. I was positioned on my left side in the bathtub with my knees pulled up towards my chest. An amber rubber folding travel syringe hung from the shower curtain rod was used. I remember the bag being partially translucent because the water level was clearly visible. A black infant rectal tip was used until I was about 10 when my mother switched to the adult rectal tip. When I was 6 or 7, the bag was about half full of water. That amount was gradually increased over the years. By the time I was 12, I think I was getting about ¾ of the 2 quart bag. By the time I was 13, getting an enema from a parent was becoming too embarrasing. My mom agreed to let me self administer so long as she prepared the bag and was able to check results afterwards to confirm that I had taken the enema and that it had worked adequately. The self administerd but parent monitored enemas continued until I left for college. I had a lot of contipation problems as a kid but laxatives were usually the first line treatment. The enema bag did not come out of the linen cabinet unless a laxative had failed to work. I got maybe one or two enemas a year until I was 11. At that point the constipation was getting worse and my parents would often go directly to an enema without trying a laxative first.

Our enema bag was an old Sojourn latex bag that was brown with age. The tubing was black, as were the nozzles, rectal and curved douche. The shutoff was a complex affair, I think snap over center. My enemas were always from the bag, never a bulb. My first remembered enema was around age three and a half. I cried every time I got an enema up until age six or seven. The solution was Ivory soap and the lube of choice was always Vaseline, the bat shaped nozzle dunked into the glass jar prior to insertion, mom never finger-lubed my anus. She sat on the tub edge and put me over her lap. One hand spread my bottom open and the other inserted the nozzle. She held the nozzle in place with her right hand, elbow in my back, pinning me down. The clamp was opened and the ordeal began.

When I grew to be too big for her lap, I kneeled over the tub edge for the enema. Constipation enemas occurred at bath time so I was naked for those sessions. I caught colds easily once I started school and that meant an enema every morning while bedridden.

Until I was about 10 my dad would carry me into the bathroom where my mother was sitting on the closed toilet seat and the Jones enema can full of Ivory soapsuds hung from a nail in the wall next to the toilet. My dad would place me face up on her lap with my legs pulled up to my chest. He would then smear Vaseline on the black enema pipe and hand it to my mother who then inserted it in my little rosebud. I had a direct view of the Jones enema can hanging above, Then “CLICK”. I was made to take the whole 2 qts of soapy enema water even when crying to stop the enema. After I was about 11 my dad took over and gave them to me face down on my bed. Fond memories !

My mom and step-dad were big believers in enemas. He was much older and still believed in enemas as a cure all and for attitude adjustments, etc. So he would often be the one to decide if one of us needed an enema - once it was decided we would be sent to our room to strip and wait to be called. Both he and my mom would be there but mom was the primary giver. He would only be there to help if there was non-cooperation. All of our enemas were given naked, face down butt up, in the bathroom

My mom always gave me mine. started with the good old red bulb black nozzle smeared with vasoline then over her knee I went. Graduated to open bag at around age 7 and still took them over her knee.

My Mom gave most of my enemas in bed with me naked and curled up on my left side, both legs pulled up to my chest, with a plastic sheet and bath towel under me. She hung the bag filled with warm Ivory Soap solution from a hook on the outside of the cupboard door that swung open towards my bed. Once she inserted the lubricated nozzle into my rectum she would squeeze my buttocks together tightly and open the clamp to start the flow. If I asked her to stop she would just tell me to take slow deep breaths through my mouth to stop any cramping and she would squeeze my buttocks together even more tightly to keep me from leaking, Once the enema was all in me she would remove the nozzle and continue squeezing my buttocks together, forcing me to hold in the enema for 5 minutes, which she timed with a mechanical kitchen timer. When the timer went off she would help me up and sit me on a big chamber pot on a stool beside my bed to expel the enema, then check when I was finished expelling to see if she was satisfied with the results or if I needed another enema. The rare time that she wasn't satisfied that the enema had cleaned enough poop out of me she would refill the bag with more Ivory solution and repeat the enema, this time making me hold it for 10 minutes before letting me expel it. Most of the enemas I got were when I was home sick from school. The doctor recommended that she give me a daily soapsuds enema whenever I was home sick and she followed his advice religiously, giving me a daily soapsuds enema first thing every morning until I was well enough to go back to school.

Occasionally I got an enema when I was up and around but a laxative given the night before didn't work on me as soon as I got up the next morning even if she had given me a glycerin suppository in the morning to help it along. Then she usually gave me the enema in the bathroom, curled up on my left side on a towel on the bathroom floor and let me expel it in the toilet but tell me not to flush so she could check the results. The only difference was when she gave me a few Fleet Enemas in my teens where she made me kneel on a towel in the bathtub with my chest low and my butt thrust up.

I started exchanging enemas with my next door neighbor ( a boy a year older than me) the summer before I turned six. We had started by naked play in his garage, and that led to the enema play. He decided early on that he didn't care to receive, but did like to give. We started out with about a half pint, but over the next two years, we graduated to the two quart level. We parted company about a year later, leaving me to go solo. by the time I was in my early teens, I had gotten to the gallon level.

I gave them to myself. I found my mom's enema bag and nozzle in a brown paper bag under the bathroom sink. I figured out how to use it. It had a douche nozzle on the end of the hose. There was a hook on the wall that I hung the bag on, and a mirror in just the right spot I could see the nozzle up my butt. I took to the feeling right away of the nozzle going in. Felt really good. I was hooked even before the water started flowing.

Early got them from a red infant bulb with a black bat shaped nozzle. At about 6 I graduated to the family bag, a red BF Goodrich combo syringe red hose and black adult bat shaped tip. I would usually be on the toilet straining to go. Mom would get the flat box out of the hall linen closet and open it on a large stool in the bathroom. She would fill the bag with warm plain water, screw in the hose and hang it from the door of the medicine cabinet over the sink. She would lube the nozzle with Vaseline and let it hang over the edge of the sink. She would make a nest of blankets and towels on the floor and tell me to lay on the floor and take my enema. I would be naked, on my back, knees pulled up feet flat on the floor. She would insert the nozzle and open the clamp. She never burped the air out of the hoe so sometimes it would not start immediately, but when it did, with a loud gurgle and a sudden rush of warm water jetting into my clogged rectum. With the bubble of air in my rectum I could easily feel the flow of water (plus the fact that she hung the bag MUCH too high). She was not trying to hurt me, she hung the bag in the same spot for her enemas. I would cramp and she would stop the flow and rub my belly for a minute, then start the flow again. It always felt good even though i would cramp at times. This would be repeated until I took all of the water in the bag. I usually did not have to hold the enema for any amount of time, I would sit on the toilet and expel. She would look at the results and if she was not satisfied, back on the floor for another enema. I had constipation issues so I usually got an enema every week or so, sometimes more often. She took enemas about 2 times a week. Gee, I wonder where I inherited my constipation issues from? 😉

Only had 5 enema when I was little if I recall correct. one was done by my paternal grandmother, Bare bum over the arm of the couch. One was done at the doctor's office pants lowered laying on my side. The las three were done when I was hospitalized right before surgery in the same manner as in the doctors office only thing different I was nude under the hospital gown.

who gave it to you: Mom

where did you get it: Bathroom, usually

what position was used: Knee-chest

what was used: Enema bag

did anyone help the primary giver: Dad on rare occasions

up to what age did you get them at home: Early teens

My first was in a hospital to have tonsils removed when a nurse introduced me to the can. Never having had an enema I had no idea as to what was about to happen, or what the can with a hose was for. I hoped for another but only got the one during that stay. Never understood what it had to do with tonsils until later I was told everyone gets one when admitted. Next few at home was mom giving as I laid on my bed on my stomach. It wasn't long after that that my older sister and I started giving to each other, nothing sexual, only enema play. At the time we lived with grandparents on a small farm in West Virginia, a house that had a huge bathroom on the third floor and we had much time to ourselves, By this time we both knew how to use the bulb until we were both introduced to the bag by mom, then we too used the bag on each other until puberty stopped our play.

LostInThe50s

I envy all of you that got enemas growing. I was anal erotic as a young girl. I often fantasize what it would be like get an enema as a kid. I think hearing my mom say “you going to get an enema later today”. The anticipation would have driven me crazy. Or seeing the red bag laid out on the bathroom counter. Hearing her fill up the bag. Mom pulling my shorts and panties down. I grew up in a beach town so we always wore shorts. The feeling of the nozzle insertion and warm water going in. Her telling me to try to take it all. Yes, the feeling of expelling. Unfortunately, I didn’t to experience any of that until I was 30 years old.

Enemas were given by mom using a large, 3+ quart red rubber open top enema with red rubber hose, chrome clamp and black nozzle smeared with globs of vaseline. Usually kneeling over the edge of the bathrub. Warm water with soapsuds from a bar of soap- the room filled with the smell of soapsuds and warm rubber. If I cramped- which I ALWAYS did- mom would tell me “pant Michael. Pant like a puppy….” My last enema from mom was with grandma helping. Mom managed the hose, clamp and nozzle while grandma held-up the bulding red rubber enema filled with warm soapy soapsuds high overhead. I was around 11 or 12. Mom told me to “pant” when the soapsuds made my tummy hurt while grandma remarked at my distended, swollen tummy “Michael is getting a good enema- look at his tummy" https://en.zity.biz/gallery/image/16548

First time in 6 years. My mother's sister and aunt brought me for treatment. She was 21 years old. Mom had to work, and my aunt was still studying. What kind of treatment I did not know and did not guess. In the office, I saw an orange pear on the table. I didn't know exactly what it was. But I vaguely guessed something, or maybe somewhere in the corners of my memory it was so. But I was still not scared, even when the nurse put me on the table, on my stomach, next to the pear. I didn't expect her to take off my pants and panties. I was scared that I was lying with my panties down, and the nurse and aunt were looking at me. Their attention was riveted on my ass. I was very ashamed. I was ashamed to be naked from the age of 4, and even in panties my aunt saw me very rarely. The nurse took one cheek away from me and quickly inserted a pear. Then she began to squeeze the pear to let in oxygen. There is an unpleasant itch in the pope. The guts rumbled. I started to cry from this, but more from shame. They calmed me down. The nurse would either squeeze the pear or give him time to rest. Probably about 15 minutes. Then the nurse took out a pear and lifted me off the table, with panties dangling on my legs. She dressed me them and pants. I walked a few meters to the fenced area. I saw a baby potty. She told me to sit on it. I was discouraged. I didn't go to him for 2-3 years. But I really wanted to poop. I sat down. I thought she would pull the existing curtain. But she didn't. Sitting down, they talked to each other. From time to time they looked at me. My aunt helped me to dress properly. The nurse looked into the pot and poured it down the toilet. When we were leaving. My aunt made me say thank you. She brought me twice a day for this procedure. 7 days in a row. Other children were treated there. Their age was either like me or younger. always with mothers. They didn't try to cover for the kids, including me. They could calmly watch how enemas were given not only to them, but also to other people's children. All this could be seen even by other children. Although due to their height, there is not much detail. Although at this age the children still had shared toilets. Most of the children didn't seem to feel ashamed or embarrassed.

Face down over the lap with a Davol bulb syringe from birth to age 10. After that knee chest in the bathtub ( in case of any leaks ) with a Gimbel's amber latex folding syringe that held 2.25 quarts

My enemas started when I was 4 or 5 years old. My grandmother gave me the enemas, my mom and dad were not involved at all. Every summer, my parents would leave us with my mom's parents for two weeks summer vacation. During those two weeks, my grandmother would ask me when I last had a bowel movement. If I said more than two days, she would go into the hallway bathroom and pull out the red enema bag, hose, nozzle and prep the enema. She would then take me into the bathroom and proceed to help me strip fully naked. She got me belly down/ass up on the floor, hung the bag, slipped the enema nozzle in my lubed hole and opened up the clamp. There couldn't have been more than 1 or 2 pints in the bag, but I definitely felt the surge and growing fullness of water in my belly. Once the bag was empty (she made sure my butt fully drained the bag), she'd then close the clamp, pull out the nozzle and I'd get up on the toilet for release and welcomed relief! Once I finished, I'd wipe and flush, put on my clothes and go on about my day. Every summer during those two weeks with my grandparents, I was guaranteed at least one enema session, up until I was 8 or 9 years old. She stopped giving them to me after 9 years old. I have no idea why she stopped.

Always when growing up it was the red bulb in the bathroom over dads lap until 9 or 10 then it was the red bag hanging from the shower pole still over dads lap until I went to college. Stripped to briefs and socks the black nozzle coated with vaseline then over his lap when he was ready.