'I need to talk about the 'third birth' no one prepares you for: The post-baby poo.'

My hospital bag for my first birth was packed with cute wishful thoughts.

My second hospital bag, however, was packed with wisdom and knowledge.

I had my enormous black underpants ready to support my enormous absorbent pads, plus my secret weapons – laxatives, prunes, and haemorrhoid cream.

My. Ass. Was. Ready.

Watch: Mamamia Confessions – The things we aren’t told about giving birth. Post continues below.

Half the reason I was waddling around the first time was because Harry the Haemorrhoid was so excited he had popped out of my ass to say congratulations to the new baby.

No nurse mentioned it to me during my check up the next day, and I was way too nervous to look or feel around my damaged island.

As a scared first-time mum, I made a mental note of what I’d do differently the next time. So, trust me on this one ladies. If Harry pops out, you’ll be relieved (both mentally and physically) to have the cream there to banish him back home.

The prunes and laxatives are for exactly what you think they’re for – the third birth that no one seems to mention.

After my first baby, I went almost a week before I finally gathered the courage to deal with the unspoken.

I walked into the bathroom, held my vagina together so it wouldn’t fall out, and prayed my asshole wouldn’t be next in line for stitches as I tried to crap out a ball of concrete while swearing off babies forever.

“I didn’t have any mum friends to give me the heads up on this a few years ago, and I vowed to never let someone else walk into that battlefield unprepared.”

I know poo talk isn’t very graceful, but knowledge is power, and absolutely no one had given me the much-needed secret poo power prep talk.

So, here’s yours, with all the learnings that made my second time around much more bearable.

LISTEN: We take a look at the final month of pregnancy, including what to pack in your hospital bag. Post continues after audio.

Soften those bad boys up with stool softeners. ‘If you ignore them, they’ll go away’ only works for door-knockers. The longer you leave these guys, the harder they’ll knock. With each passing day, your poo will join forces and create a solid army. A rock-solid army of pain.

Pushing can be a scary feeling. Everything down there is vulnerable, and I was worried I might give birth to my entire uterus mid poo. I didn’t (phew). I found the stool softeners helped with this and I didn’t need to use so much scary force the second time round.

So to sum it up? Prunes and prune juice are your friends, drink loads of water, and don’t be afraid to ask for laxatives if you need them.

Hold your fragile stitched (or unstitched) front if that makes you feel more comfortable and secure. It may still be an uncomfortable experience, but it doesn’t have to feel like the ass apocalypse I experienced. NO ONE PREPARED ME FOR IT.

Don’t be scared though, I’d still do it all again for my kids. Just be prepared so you can crap like a queen on the porcelain throne.

If you didn’t struggle with a post-birth poo, I have only one question… How does it feel to be one of God’s favourites?

This post originially appeared on Living My Family Life and has been edited and republished with full permission.

Katie Bowman is a mum to a 4-year-old girl and two-year-old twin girls. A part-time hairdresser, she spends her time blogging about her days of chaos on her Facebook page, Living My Family Life.

Feature Image: Supplied.