Confessions of a Childhood Bed-Wetter

Perspective is everything

Natural waterslide in western PA. Yes, you can actually go down it and not die. Photo by Author.

It’s funny to look back on your life and realize what a strange and twisted road brought you to where you are now.

For the first twelve years of my life, many cold mornings I awoke in piss-soaked bedding. Under the covers, it would be relatively warm until I would throw off the blankets. I would strip down, sprint down the hallway, and jump straight into the warm bath my mother had waiting for me on those freezing cold winter mornings. No need to go to school smelling like urine.

It was difficult for my mom. She was raising two kids and working full-time at the bank. My dad was busy running his own music business to support us. I don’t remember him ever being there in the mornings when my mother had to do all the heavy lifting.

Since I wet the bed every night, my mother grew so weary at the thought of changing and washing my sheets daily that she just didn’t do it. Several days could go by between washings where I would go to bed on my pee-sheets. It didn’t bother me; it was just life. I was an anxious but resilient kid, and my mother was exhausted.

My parents tried everything to help. At one point, they contacted some company, and a salesman came over. They spent hundreds of dollars (maybe thousands — I don’t know. It was a lot of money in the 1980s)…