Was your mother a hanger, holder, or squeezer?

Some of all three...usually hanging to start, but would hold to raise it and change the flow. If the flow seemed to get really slow, then the squeezing would begin.

Mom always held the bag unless grandmother was there helping at times .

My Mom held the bag. She lifted it higher or lowered it as required to keep the enema flowing , and to lessen cramping. At one point my sister helped Mom, when that happend my sister held the bag, Mom inserted the nozzel , held it in place and worked the clamp.

My mother was mostly a hanger of the enema bag. In the childrens bathroom, where I received most of my enemas, she hung it from the towel bar in the tub and later from one on the wall. Hanging the bag on the bar freed her hands for holding my legs up and the nozzle in while I was in the tub. It was a scary position, you saw everything. At times I was given enemas in her bathroom. The bag was hung from a cabinet by the tub, unless our maid was helping in which case she held the bag.

The bag was hung from a cabinet by the tub, unless our maid was helping in which case she held the bag.

Ah yes, the ever helpful family maid. Always so eager to help mom handle situations like that where our bowels were concerned and add to our feeling that we were being totally controlled and going absolutely nowhere until the dreaded ordeal was over.

I wish I had experienced enemas from my mom. But, she did not like dealing with that area so it was always oral laxatives. But I do think about what it would be like from time to time.

My mom must have been a squeezer as she only gave me the bulb.

All 3. She was a squeezer when I was small, and she just used a small bulb enema on me. After I got old enough for a bag, there was a strategically placed towel rack, in the bathroom, that was about 2 feet above my bottom, in knee chest position. She would start with the bag hanging, but as my tummy filled, and the solution slowed, she would become a holder, and raise that bag higher.

Always hung the bag unless grandmother was helping then grandma would hold the bag.

The bathroom had a very strong sent of rubber....strong, like a tire store.

Actually, "Nona" (Grandma -> Italian) was taller than mom so she was the bag holder, and it was held as high as she could reach. Nona also administered that red combination bag non stop, but after ample protesting she may lower the bag for a short while, but not for long.

By the way, those old metal clamps had just 2 positions "ON" or "OFF"! So when it was on you got it full force. (I didnt see the current plastic hose clamps with all the flow incrumemts until the 1970s).

She'd always use the black silghtly curved douche nozzle with a shiny with vasoline.

I sincerely believe it was her thinking was that this precess was very much like todays power washers that you clean the concrete around your house with.

The soap was the kitchen soap, a brown soap called Octogon by Polmolive . Of course Nona would say "soap is soap" . You could count to 10 after hearing the well known "CLICK" of the metal hose clamp. The tummy would start to sting, kinda like the intensity of soap in your eyes. It would continut to sting till you got to expel it. Needless to say; It was almost imposible to retain and then cramping would occour during expulsion. which would take 2 or 3 return seatings on the throne.

The nona would make her announcement the a rinse is in order, But I would not let them near me, for a repeat performance. what I did not know, was that it was the soap that was causing the awful stinging.

It was not till I went for a hernia operation and age 13 that the nurse in her chrisp white uniform and cap came in the room with what looked like a stainless pitcher with a gum colored hose. Seeing the hose, I figured this can't be good! The nurse asked me if I'd ever had an enema before.... I said, "yes of course hasn't every one?" She said "good so you know what to expect".

I figured I'd bite the bullet and take it like a man..... there was no nozzle just what looked like a long smooth red tube with a small hole at the end. No hose clamp either, she opened what looked like a pair of sissors and the water flowed but the sting never came. I then realized it was that brown kitchen soap.

My mom gave me enemas while over her knee until I was older, then I laid on the floor on my back, legs up. She was a hanger - she hung the bag (2 qt closed top Davol) from the towel rack. When I complained - every time - she squeezed the bag and the pressure made me stop whining.

We only had an open-topped rubber bag, and mom hung it on a pole above the bathtub.

Every now and then I tried to take a look at it during an enema to see how much was still waiting for me. Mom would give me a slap and often say: "Keep your head down, I'll tell you when the time comes." Sometimes all I heard was: "Almost ready, just one more sip"

I once noticed that she quickly squeezed the bottom of the bag a few times. Probably to see if it's empty right away.

I think with the hot water bottles you could increase the flow by pressing them. Thank God we didn't have these bottles.

To answer the actual question; mom was a hanger.

Growing up on our grandparents farm in WV we all got our enemas with the giver sitting on a window seat (old houses had a storage & seat under windows) with the open top bag hanging from a hook on the side of the window. So both mom and meemaw were hangers. The bag hanging from the hook looked like it was 10 feet above us but in reality it must have been only about 3 feet. Many times I got to watch one of my sisters getting enemas peeking from outside, and I knew Tess would be watching me. My oldest sister Tess enjoyed them as I did, but our two younger sisters fought them. After we moved to Philadelphia, we got them on our beds on our stomachs with mom holding the bag above us. Very little opportunity to watch but when someone ran from their room to the bathroom without pants or underpants on the rest of us knew that they just got an enema!

LostInThe50s

@LostInThe50s

…we all got our enemas with the giver sitting on a window seat (old houses had a storage & seat under windows) with the open top bag hanging from a hook on the side of the window. …

...when you describe the bag on the window, it occurs to me that my lady once enemad me at the open living room window one summer.

I looked at the blooming garden with my elbows on the windowsill. Then my lady cuddled up to me from behind, opened the belt and pulled down my pants. Before I could say anything, she said, “Just keep looking at the garden…”

Suddenly I felt her pushing a slippery spherical nozzle into my anus and leaning on the windowsill next to me. At the same time, I felt fluid being pumped into my intestines in bursts. I wince briefly with an “oops” on my lips. She looked at me cheekily, with an "oops" in response...

Only then did I see a klyso pumpball in her hand, which she was squeezing rhythmically.

Next to her on a side table there was a large porcelain irrigator...

"Beautiful day today, isn't it. It's fun to enjoy nature..." a neighbor calls over to us from her garden.

I had to drink all of the tea mixture in the irrigator...

When my siblings and I were growing up, mom was a holder and grandma was a hanger as were our two teenage aunts.

Mom was a hanger, she had dad install a towel hook just for the purpose of hanging the bag from.

There was a hook on the wall near the toilet in our bathroom that my mom hung her syringe to give herself frequent enemas, and which she used to give very infrequent enemas to me.

On one occasion when I was in bed, Mom had her sister hold the bag while she held the nozzle inside me so it wouldn’t slip out.

My mother was a squeezer. There was a little red 8 oz. bulb with a black nozzle that was kept in a lavatory drawer in the bathroom.

Almost all of my rather frequent enemas were in the bathroom bent over the tub. The bag hung on a towel rack over the tub. If the flow stopped or was determined to be too slow, my mother would stand, take the bag and raise it up to shoulder height to increase the flow. So hanger/holder!

My mother was a hanger, but my grandmother was a restrictor and a squeezer, she was always in a hurry to finish the enemas. She will never be able to forget the red rubber bag, with its long black tube and thick black nozzle. Now I konw that Now I know the nozzle really wasn't that big

My aunt was a squeezer.. I still remember the big bowl fulls of warm and soapy water and the sensations that I felt as bulb full after bulb full of liquid was introduced inside of me

Hanger but that is not to say didn't squeeze last of it in also.

Mine was strictly a pumper as she always used a Higginson syringe.

I would watch my sister get weekly enemas, and would count how often she pumped.

The bag would be hanging on the hook on the back of the bathroom door until I was in the knee chest position. Once mom inserted the nozzle she would take the bag off the hook and start the enema flow slowly with the bag lower and raise it up to finish the enema with the bag held high.

Just a holder for us kids. Assume she hang it for herself.

All the above squeeze bulb as small hang can and bag but squeeze bag empty it also had in line pump help things along

When I was little: Position on my back and legs bent on my belly.

My cousin Victoria inserted the nozzle and held it. My Aunt Helena raised and lowered the Irrigator.

If it was a punishment enema: 4-legged position, shoulders on the floor, very steep ass.

My cousin Victoria inserted the nozzle and my aunt Helena with the irrigator very high so that the liquid would enter my belly quickly.