poop-your-baby-out

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I need push now!

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Overeager Volunteer

In the midst of the bustling, crowded waiting area, she found herself half-squatting, her legs bent at awkward angles as she tried to manage the pressure building inside her. Her bare, taut belly jutted out, heavy and straining, the skin stretched to a sheen. She pressed one hand against the swell, almost as if she could will the contents within to stay put, while the other rubbed circles on her belly, a desperate, nervous motion as she blew short, forceful breaths. Her eyes were wide, alert, and darting, as she silently begged for privacy.

But privacy was a luxury she wasn't granted. A male volunteer, clad in a slightly too-cheerful expression, ambled over to her, oblivious to her struggle. She caught his approach out of the corner of her eye and stifled a groan, her belly tightening under her hands. He stepped closer, offering words of gentle encouragement, thinking she was merely dealing with contractions. "You're doing great," he said, almost too brightly, his hand reaching out to pat her belly, to soothe what he thought was labor pains.

She didn't dare speak, didn't dare let even the faintest hint of a grunt slip. Her face flushed, but she tried to stay composed, focusing on breathing, on keeping the wide, hard stool lodged within her rectum from emerging right there. She blew in his face—quick, sharp bursts that she hoped would send a signal, but he didn’t pick up on it. His eyes stayed on hers, not a trace of understanding crossing his features as she strained to maintain control.

She felt it then, the stool widening inside her, the pressure unrelenting. She had been holding back for so long, and her belly ached from the effort. Sweat beaded along her hairline, her breaths shallow and fast, but the urge was too powerful. It built and built, until she realized she had no choice. She made the decision then, a final, inevitable concession to the sheer physicality of it, and she fixed her eyes on his, locking him in a dead-on stare. If she was going to do this, she would make sure he knew.

Her face tightened, the right side just slightly different, a familiar twist she’d come to live with after Bell’s palsy. Her lips curled, her brow furrowing as her whole body leaned into the push. She gave a low, deep grunt, the kind that left no room for interpretation—a sound that came from deep within, unmistakable and raw. There was no mistaking what she was doing, and yet, he didn’t get it. She saw the flicker of confusion, the puzzled amusement crossing his face as she strained, her eyes wide and determined. The sound escaped her, a groan that seemed to echo in the tiny, shrinking space between them.

He rubbed her belly still, oblivious, commenting on how cute her expressions were. “You’ve got such a funny little face when you’re pushing,” he chuckled, still thinking she was just enduring labor. But the reality was so much more humiliating, and she could feel the wide, hard stool pressing out, inching past her control. The grunt deepened, and she bore down, her legs trembling as she committed to the effort. She could sense the widening stool stretching her, and she had no choice but to push, her focus unbroken from his bemused gaze.

As she strained, her cheeks puffing, the right side of her face tugging just slightly differently, the volunteer’s smile faltered. It dawned on him that this wasn’t the graceful, demure effort he had expected. She was pushing something entirely different, and there was no hiding it now. But even then, he couldn’t resist a lighthearted comment, as if to deflect his growing discomfort. “Wow, you really are working hard, huh?” he said, his voice softer, but still missing the mark.

She heard the words, and for a brief moment, she wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything other than push out this unbearably wide, hard stool in front of him. But there was no stopping it now, and she felt the pressure crest, felt it slowly, inexorably coming out, stretching her rectum, making her legs shake with the effort. Her belly pressed out, the skin slick with sweat, and she locked eyes with him again, daring him to look away as she gave another guttural push. It was happening, right there in front of him, and there was no mistaking the strain on her face, the deep grunt, the slow, inching movement of something solid and unyielding making its way out.

The volunteer’s expression shifted to one of reluctant realization, but he didn’t pull his hand away from her belly. He kept rubbing, still unsure of what to say, his own discomfort starting to show. “You’re… uh, really giving it your all,” he muttered, as if grasping for something to say that wouldn’t make this more awkward. But her eyes never left his, even as she felt the hardest part of the stool finally breach, pushing against her, a deep, embarrassing release she couldn’t hold back any longer.

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Amazing grunting and push faces

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big birth video

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It looks like she’s pooping given her facial expressions. Looks like a Tuffy for her.

#birth #hardpush

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I love a good view of a woman’s push face and her big belly the most

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This aint much but.... GYAT

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Looks like she’s pooping out the baby

Squatting while pushing out a breech baby gif

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Hot and clear push faces

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Can get ChatGPT to write about anything now with a little creativity in prompting - a birth videographer reviewing why women rejected certain birth clips

Intense Facial Expressions

As the videographer reviewed the footage, she focused on a particularly intense clip. The mother, Jessica, was deep in the throes of a powerful contraction. Her face was a canvas of raw emotion and physical strain. Her eyes were squeezed shut, every wrinkle and line etched deeply into her skin. Her mouth was open in a wide, guttural scream, revealing clenched teeth and a quivering tongue. The veins in her neck stood out like cords, pulsing with the effort. Sweat poured down her face, mingling with tears of pain and frustration. Jessica's entire expression was a vivid display of the primal, unfiltered agony of labor. This moment, while incredibly powerful, was also deeply personal. Jessica might have chosen to exclude this footage because it captured her at her most vulnerable and raw, exposing a side of herself that she felt was too intimate to share with a wider audience.

Involuntary Bodily Functions

In another clip, the camera focused on Emily, a mother who was deep in the pushing stage of labor. Her face was a mask of concentrated effort, eyes shut tight and jaw clenched. As she pushed, her body reacted involuntarily. The footage captured the moment her bowels moved, and a large, hard stool began to emerge. The stool was visibly substantial, straining against her efforts and getting stuck partway out. Emily's face contorted in a mix of pain and embarrassment, her cheeks flushed red as she grunted and strained to expel it. The camera didn’t shy away, capturing the full extent of her struggle. The size and hardness of the stool, combined with the visible discomfort and effort required to pass it, made this a deeply intimate moment. Emily likely opted not to include this footage because it revealed a side of childbirth that is both personal and potentially humiliating, a moment of involuntary vulnerability that she would rather keep private.

Uncontrolled Sounds

The sound of labor was a constant, visceral backdrop in the next clip the videographer reviewed. Sarah was caught in the grip of a powerful contraction, her cries filling the room. The microphone captured every nuance: the deep, guttural groans, the sharp, involuntary gasps, and the almost animalistic cries that accompanied each wave of pain. Alongside these were the sounds of her body working: the grunts, the occasional release of gas, and the moist, visceral noises of the birthing process. The unrestrained nature of these sounds, their raw intensity, was a stark reminder of the primal reality of childbirth. Sarah might have chosen to exclude this footage because the audio laid bare her vulnerability in a way that was both personal and potentially embarrassing. The sounds, though a natural part of labor, were too revealing, capturing a level of intimacy she wasn't comfortable sharing.

Visible Strain and Exhaustion

Another clip showed Maria in the final stages of her labor. Her body was a study in exhaustion, every muscle trembling with the effort of pushing. Her skin glistened with sweat, her hair matted to her forehead in damp strands. Her face was flushed, eyes half-closed and glassy with fatigue. As she pushed, her entire body shook, the muscles in her arms and legs quivering visibly. Her breaths were shallow and rapid, her mouth open as she panted with effort. The camera captured every detail: the trembling of her thighs, the way her hands gripped the stool with a white-knuckled intensity, the slight tremors that ran through her body with each push. This footage, while a powerful testament to her strength, also highlighted her moments of weakness and exhaustion. Maria might have chosen to exclude this footage because it displayed her at her most vulnerable, her physical struggle and fatigue laid bare for all to see.

Detailed Views of Pushing

The final clip was perhaps the most revealing. Anna was mid-push, her body arched forward on the birth stool. Her face was a mask of determination and strain, eyes squeezed shut as she bore down. The camera captured every detail: the way her muscles tightened, the redness of her face, the beads of sweat rolling down her temples. As she pushed, her eyes opened briefly, darting around the room in a quick, uncomfortable glance. She was acutely aware of the eyes on her, the observers watching her most intimate moment. The camera didn’t flinch, capturing her looking around mid-push, her expression a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. The presence of the audience, their watchful eyes, added a layer of humiliation to her already intense experience. Anna might have chosen to exclude this footage because it revealed not just the physical effort of labor, but the profound vulnerability and embarrassment of being observed in such a personal moment. The combination of physical strain and the uncomfortable awareness of being watched was too intimate, too revealing to share widely.

In each of these clips, the videographer saw a common thread: the moments captured were too raw, too personal, and too revealing. They laid bare the most vulnerable aspects of childbirth, moments of intense effort, physical strain, and involuntary bodily functions that the mothers chose to keep private. The decision to exclude this footage was a way of maintaining some control over their narrative, choosing to share the powerful moments of birth without exposing their deepest vulnerabilities.

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Poor thing, looks like she’s gonna have a toughie to push out 

I put this on for you…. Do you still think I look okay? 🥺

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No words Other than I wanna press my face in between those thighs under that belly

Good. God.

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The full vid with more of the facial expressions!

Found the full video !

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Look at that big stuck out belly mid push

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As she edges closer to the bathroom, her eyes scan the line of laboring women ahead of her. The scene unfolding before her heightens her distress. Each woman is caught in the throes of a dual struggle: pushing to birth a child while simultaneously contending with the involuntary expulsion of large, hard stools. The corridor, a gallery of raw human effort, showcases woman after woman bearing down hard, their expressions contorted in intense concentration and discomfort.

The women make deeply embarrassing faces as they push—cheeks flushed, eyes squeezed shut, mouths open in silent cries or punctuated with sharp exhales. The stools are visibly large and seem stubbornly lodged, only partially expelled despite their efforts. This visible struggle adds a visceral layer of reality to her fears; it's not just a possibility but a scene actively playing out in front of her.

She watches as one woman leans against the wall, her body bent forward in a deep squat. Another grips the handrail along the corridor, her legs trembling under the strain. Each woman's hospital gown is shifted awkwardly, failing to provide privacy in these intensely private moments. The shared vulnerability among them is palpable, yet each is isolated in her personal battle.

This tableau of desperation directly feeds into her own spiraling worry. If these women, so evidently struggling, are any indication, the chances of her reaching a private space in time are dwindling rapidly. The physical reality of her condition—pressured, urgent, and uncontrollable—mirrors theirs, and the solidarity of shared experience does little to comfort her. Instead, it magnifies her anxiety, embedding a deep fear that she too will soon be one of the women squatting and pushing in the hallway, exposed and overwhelmed.

Her heart races as she clutches tighter to the volunteer's arm, seeking some anchor in the storm of her panic. Each step forward is a battle against time and physiology, her mind racing with the imagery of what might soon be her own public and unavoidable ordeal. The corridor stretches out like a gauntlet, each woman's plight a mirror to her impending ordeal, each second drawing her closer to a moment she desperately wishes to avoid.

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Great push faces. She’s really straining hard, poor mama

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Love this guy’s posts!

“How are you doing babe?”

“How the fuck do you think im doing?!” She snapped at her husband. “Horrible! I’m doing fucking horrible!! Nothing will come out. I want to punch y- OH GOD!!! GRRRRRR NGHHH!!”

His wife pushed hard into her bum. It was their third child and the labor was going fast. Baby’s head fully engaged and momma almost fully dilated. Only problem was the poor momma had been severely constipated when baby decided to drop and get into position to be born. It had only been 4 hours between the momma waking up to labor pains and transition. Her water hadn’t even broken yet and the baby’s head was pushing hard onto her plugged up bowels.