Crying when getting an enema as a child

I believe in Enemas, and Take Them Daily. I get Them after good Spanking, From My Master

I cried when I was 4 or 5, then I did a LOT of whining and begging - even though whenever mom pulled down my pants for the bulb my little peenie was at solid attention.

When my weekly enemas started up again around age 10, the whining persisted, though I'm sure it was much less heartfelt as I had secretly come to almost look forward to the routine.

My tonsillectomy was preceded the night before by my first big enema from two nurses. The experience has remained in my memory as an exciting experience. I think of every time I’m given an enema today. The experience made me want enema play with my lovers. Play away! I still don't cry.

I was a crier,big baby. The crying never stopped the process,only engrained it more in my mind.

Oh, yes, I always cried and screamed and begged for it to stop. When I first got enemas, I couldnt believe that it was happening, it was so humiliating an unpleasant. Prior to my first enema, my mom tried to carefully explain what was going to happen. I was having problems with withholding and constipation, and my mom tried to tell me gently that I was going to have a small "stick" that went up my butt, and that it would help me go poop. She meant well, but as soon as I heard that thy were going to put something up my butt, I was shocked and tried to refuse. I was around 6 years old at the time. I remember as I tried to resist, I was grabbed and held down over a bed (in my grandparent's room, which was near the bathroom), and with my parents and grandparents (on my mom's side) present, and assisting, I remember my pants being pulled down, and while I was held still, I felt my botton being lubricated, and the bulb enema (the "stick") being inserted into me, and i felt it go into my rectum. I couldnt believe it was happening, and how humiliating it all was. I begged and screamed and cried, to please stop, please no, dont do this to me. From then on, I had several other enemas between age 6 and age 8, and I always cried and resisted, and I always had to be held down and made to take the enema against my will. I was then taken to the bathroom, and made to sit on the toilet and expell the enema and poop, tears still running down my face and still vocalizing my resentment.

Born in 1952. Mom RN. Very, very few enemas my whole childhood, perhaps 4-5, maybe ag 6-12. I thought it felt a bit funny at first, but then decided I liked them. Definitely never any crying or screaming. I've loved receiving or taking them myself since age 15. Now 67.

Eric

I did a lot of crying and fighting. My parents were never put off by it.

All I did was crying, screaming, fighting & cursing when I got an enema. I never participated and they never tried something else (medicine) than enemas or suppositories when I was constipated or had a fever, ....

I was crying for the first ones, even expelled the first one on the bed. The following ones, I did not cry even if I protested. Then with the time protestations were only simulated as I knew I would receive anyway. Then I even appreciated them

When I was told I needed anything up my bum I would freak out and try to run out of the room only to have my mom or dad or aunt pin me down wherever they could. I was only given fleet enemas as a child and the moment I'd see that bottle in my mother's gloved hand I let out a scream that could be heard across the neighborhood! As I was usually very constipated I was given multiple fleets. I'd get time to try in between each and when I couldn't go I was ripped off the potty and given another one. Screaming no and falling out. Didn't grow out of that till I was about 12

I had enemas from my mom as far back as I can remember. I don't remember crying, but I do remember squirming and telling mom I couldn't take any more. She was always firm with me and said that if I didn't take it all, we'd have to start all over again. I started to do my own enemas at age 8, in secret.

My case is similar as Brian57 described. I was protesting screaming and fighting till age 6 or 7 when slowly I was able to accept the procedures. Maybe because my younger sister got the same treatments and she was very good. She never cried or made any fuss. I think I just felt the shame that me, who is 5 years older cannot take. I forced myself to be cooperative and thanks to my mom slowly adapted to suppositories and enemas, which also resulted stopping the humiliating procedures when mom needed assistance from my grandma or aunt to hold me still.

Larry27: "Mom gave a bag enema from a childrens bag. It had a Little Bo Peep nursery rhyme on it, and probably held about a quart." I've heard of children's enema bags. Seem very rare as a half filled regular enema bag could be used instead, as was done with me. Perhaps the idea of the smaller bag was to make it less scary appearing.

Enemas were a norm in our house growing up, although we grew up much toward the end of the 'golden age' my mother was still a believer in them and we got them pretty regularly. Personally, I can remember crying probably through age 10 or so but always fussing well beyond that age. My sisters were the same way, none of us physically resisted because that would have been bad but none of us just accepted them either. Mom was a firm but fair giver, she understood they were not pleasant but when a decision was made to give one it was final

It was really a nice home indeed

I would like to be your friend, if you want

I never really cried, though it was really uncomfortable. I used to hate enemas as child , lack of cooperation meant getting spanked.

Mom was a firm but fair giver, she understood they were not pleasant but when a decision was made to give one it was final

I would have to say the same. There was no talking her out of it once she decided to give an enema. I've talked to more than one member who have said the same thing. They never talked their way out of one. Once it was made that was it. I never cried but did bitch and moan to no avail.

It is a very serious concern when medical procedures are used to discipline a child or to reinforce a parent's control over the child. That said, the proper use of an enema has its necessity. Growing up, I had them but not often. I also had discovered the red bag and black long nozzle in the bathroom closet contained in a black bag. Clearly, my parents were using it though I had no knowledge. As for crying when it was my time, I would get rather emotional more so cause of what was to happen. At some point, the pressure and cramps took over. Tears at that point had only to do with "OMG, I have to use the toilet!" Suddenly, it didn't matter about being shy, modest or embarrassed.

I don't remember crying while getting an enema. Maybe I did when I was four years old or earlier? I do remember that by time I was starting school, I already recognized there was something pleasant about the warm water going into my butt. I doubt my mom knew what she was starting, but her enemas were small and gentle, and I quickly recognized that I really did feel better after it was over. I never got an enema as punishment so I had no negative feelings toward them. That is why I found it difficult to understand why some of my friends and cousins had negative comments about the enemas they received. To hear them talk, enemas were gross, disgusting, and they hurt. So why did my sister and I give ourselves and each other enemas for fun while playing in the bathtub? At least for us, enemas were nothing to cry about.

My enemas began when I was 5 on the kitchen table.... It was the result of being given "sulfa drugs" as my parents later told me about my having some sort of infection that the drugs were given for, and a side effect was severe constipation. I don't remember those enemas, but I remember being fingered in an effort to help in some way. I never remember crying. I did like being fingered, and I continued to like being fingered as I grew older. I did not like the super strong Ivory Flakes enemas I was given. In fact, instead of crying, I became mentally defiant - thinking to myself that "I'll show the, I'm not going to let this enema work on me!" . Considering my bulb enemas were made used so much Ivory Flakes it had to be dissolved by heating in a white metal pot on the stove. There was no way an enema made of this stuff would not work.

Crying? Fighting the inevitable? An Enema?

None of that; what is was, was an invitation, verbal direction from Mom to come into the bathroom when she I called me.

I just did as I was told! This was not a debate. This was a procedure to clean you out after not having a bowel movement for several days.

Not sure how she knew? Could have been skid marks in the underwear? No matter you did as told, at least I did. I think most of the kids did, no-one ever spoke about it. That alone speaks volumes, considering the things we would speak freely about.

Secretly, and I don't know at what age, I must have liked something about it. I do remember the feeling of letting go and the release. Whenever we played doctor, some of my girl friends, and I, always me, don't remember other boys being present, had my temperature taking by the girls rectally, and I enjoyed it. Hey they did too, don't let them bullshit you, they loved that game. Guess they where just playing out what they received. That was all before 10 yo. Guessing 7 to 9yo.

Spankings? never really got an "old fashioned over the knee" one. I do remember running like hell and feeling a strap on the back of my thighs as I ran. That was a game changer. My mother was small, but a strap is a great equalizer. Never "Wait till daddy gets home" bullshit.

Never got arrested, must have been raised okay. No complaints, lots of love. That's the secret key!

Love your two year old when they are two, don't wait till they are older, just keep on loving and forgiving, just as you would like to be forgiven!

Enough already.

OTKguy

I didn’t cry. Didn’t like them but I was only given the disposable fleet enemas.

I know that I cried when I would get an enema. I didn’t like them because they hurt and my mom kept telling me to relax and it wouldn’t hurt. However, I don’t think I could relax and they continued to hurt...or maybe I was just afraid of them. I remember her telling me if i took an enema from her she wouldn’t give me as large a one if i waited til my dad came home. I don’t remember him giving enemas but the threat was always there.

I also remember one other thing as a child expelling an enema. I knew that girls sat down when they went to the toilet and water came out. I wondered why I was sitting down and having water come out since I was a boy. It was all a very confusing experience for me until I got older. That’s when enemas became enjoyable rather than painful and enjoyable in several different ways.

It's fascinating how many people have identical memories of certain aspects of our enema experiences . In my case, it waas dan2'sconfusion over expelling his enema into the toilet when he had only seen his sisters on the toilet. I probably should have raised the question with Mom, but was too upset at 4 to do so and wanted the enema can out of my sight.

I'm sitting here reading your experiences with enemas, and can only recall never objecting getting one.

Mom was ell versed in administering them; the procedure was simple. Down came your pajama bottoms off came your underwear and you stood there watching Mom fill the bag, attach the nozzle, always the short enema one, then seeing her sit down, bring you to her side and gentle put you over her lap, In that position it was understood what comes next. The nozzle, well lubed with Vaseline, butt cheeks gently spread, the feeling of the nozzle being inserted is all so real to this day.

Next came the unmistakable metallic sound of the Enema clamp being released and the warm feeling of water rushing up into your butt and tummy.

Yes, you said " thats enough" and the flow paused for a minute or so, then click again pleasantly resuming the flow; and so it went till you heard that never to be forgotten sound of the Enema bag sucking air.

A gentle back rub, the words "just relax", and finally, y'our sitting on the toilet feeling the pleasant feeling of release.

Can't say I really didn't like them; I kept giving them to myself thereafter, complete with the a new feeling of masturbation.

Never confided in anyone about this so tanks for this forum.

the procedure was simple. Down came your pajama bottoms off came your underwear and you stood there watching

I've wondered about why my bottoms were removed before the enema was actually prepared and setup. Was it so I wouldn't run out of the apartment.. seemed like it too a long time to get it all set up and I remember being in just a T-shirt with my bottom completely exposed and vulnerable. It made my little penis shrink to as if it wasn't even there - a strange sight/feeling I remember so clearly and find exciting..

Growing up, my siblings an I received enemas as needed, together, laying across a bed on a towel plus one rolled up under our waist to push our bottoms up. Once the quart of soapy enema was in, we had to hold it for ten minutes, as mom moved on to the next bare bottom. If the cramps got bad and we begged and fussed to much to go to the toilet, before ten minutes was up. Mom reminded us with her bare hand or hairbrush on a bare bottom with a few good spanks, not to fuss about it and wait till told, to go to the toilet. That’s when the crying started and was the only thing we fussed about, because, we three were anal erotic and liked enemas. The only thing that hurt were the cramps when they got real strong, that’s what got us in trouble. Usually, if one fussed about bad cramps we all did. Looking back, I think she got in a hurry letting the flow go a to fast, used to much Ivory soap when she fix the three quart pumpkin enema bag, or both. Causing the strong cramps.

No I didn't cry.

I (at 7) had been in the toilet trying to poop and my Mother who had a migraine headache had been waiting for the toilet and knocked on the door so I had given up and as I left she had asked me if I had gone. No I hadn't.

She asked me to please wait in her bedroom and after a while came and got me to come into the bathroom remove my undies and skirt and bend over a clothes basket. Something cold was inserted into my bottom and after a while I desperately wanted to go and remember saying "No more No more I will go now" and it was removed and I went to the toilet lots and my mother went back to bed. I never saw the black Higginson syringe that was administered at that time and it was some time before I even knew the name of what had happened. No explanation was offered but I never forgot the process and especially the outcome.

emma

Not actually bawling, but there WAS one time before I got pregnant with the twins when I was laying there with my husband, ready to head off to sleep and I realized what the situation was.

It was either spend the next morning taking 3-qt enemas, the first an Epsom Salt and soapsuds and then a series of 3-qt soapsuds enemas, as many as it took to get to a clear return, or the alternative was one 2-qt enema and then a round of laxatives and suppositories lasting most of the day. Having to choose between those two not-very-good options made me tear-up a little. Maybe because it would spend my entire day off.

Enema Crying?

Really, I don't remember the first one, probably 5 to ten years old, but do remember, lying across Moms lap and insertion. It was assumed to be normal and for my best interest.

I do remember Dr's in those day made house visits and rectal temperature taking was a given. Embarrassing, Yes, Painful No!

It also served as a sort of play when a couple,2 or 3, of kids were left alone.

One thing I'm sure we can all agree upon is, the great feeling of release and the renewed feeling of wellness afterwards.

Don't know anyone who died from it, Butt, I guess that never made the ten o'clock News!!

OTK4fun