It’s Valentine’s Day… cue slow-dance soundtrack, jewelry commercials and serious chocolate cravings. I would like to say I spent
this day basking in my wonderful relationship with Daddy-o and dressing Boopsie in hearts and flowers. I did that… a little. But mostly, I spent the day thinking about and worrying about poop. More specifically, I worried about Boopsie pooping. Or rather, her lack of pooping.
Before I get into this, I have to explain something: Before Boopsie was born, I couldn’t even say the word “poop” without shuddering. I’d developed a reputation for vomiting when people told “poo” jokes, and retched into a mostly empty popcorn tub while watching American Wedding because of a truly disgusting poo joke. As a teenage babysitter, I used to regularly gag my way through diaper changes, sometimes having to ditch the baby diaperless on the floor while I sprinted to the bathroom to heave. Couldn’t help it. It was one of my bigger worries before Boopsie was born: How would I handle the POOP?
Fast forward to August 2o1o. Boopsie is born and I am immediately able to cope with her poop. I don’t even blink or shudder. Getting pooped on doesn’t phase me (an early diaper changing debacle).
Fast forward again. We started Boopsie on rice cereal about two weeks ago, and pureed vegetables about a week ago. Cue constipation… poor baby. She’s grunting and groaning and been spending 10-15 minutes working out one little bit of poo. And suddenly, today, I decide that it’s. not. good. for. her. I call the Doctor’s office for the second time in three days. This time, they tell me to come in.
Valentine’s Day 2011 – the day I take my almost-six-month-old to the doctor to discuss poop and pooping in depth. No flowers, some chocolate (thanks, Mum), mostly just a short workday sandwiched in between poop issues and a trip to the doctor’s office . At work, I barely noticed the steady stream of floral deliveries making their way into the building–I was too busy thinking about poop, and how to describe it to the doctor, and worrying about how Boopsie felt.
So I shuttled her to the Doctor, where she whined and whimpered and strained in the waiting room (by the way, COVER YOUR COUGH, PEOPLE!) and then entertained the doctor with smiles and coos. The Doctor’s diagnosis? Don’t worry. Let her work it out, maybe add a little avocado and or some prune juice to her diet. A relief because it’s not serious and not a relief because she still really needs to poop… which brings me to the point of this Valentine’s Day missive:
Things have changed SO MUCH since Boopsie came along. Duh, right? I was thinking about it this evening and realized that I would happily trade any Valentine from any Valentine for the rest of my life for Boopsie to be able to just. poop. comfortably. I guess this is what happens when you become a mother.
All I want for Valentine’s Day? A super poopy diaper. Does that make me crazy? Are my standards too low? Not sure on either account. But for this year, for 2011, I would really like a super poopy diaper. *sigh*
Just in case you’re interested in something a little sweeter, read this from Babble.
*Update, 2/15/11* – We have some poop!