Adventures in Parenthood

I don’t have a lot of time, but I have to catch y’all up on everything. I know I keep you waiting on these posts, but since most of you are parents, I’m sure you understand why!

I’m probably going to have to come back and fill in gaps and finish stories, but here’s what happened yesterday…

So, Carson has been constipated for a couple of days due to the bilirubin buildup and subsequent excretion. Bless his heart, he was balling up as tight as his little body could, holding his breath, and bearing down like a pregnant woman in labor. His tiny face would turn purple with the effort, and he’d grunt as hard as he could with no success. So, the pediatrician recommended we give him PediaLax. It’s a glycerin suppository. Yeah. Suppository. As in rectal administration. Ryan immediately said, “I’m against it.” As bad as I hated doing it, I know how bad being constipated feels (see previous blogs), and I knew the slight discomfort of having something pushed into his rectum would be worth the relief afterwards. So, we (Ryan held him on his side and protested the whole time) sucked it up and gave him his first violation. Of course he screamed when I began trying to force the little tube made for children up to six years of age into his little bottom, so Ryan immediately said, “that’s far enough!!” I should have ignored him. I’ve given enemas to dogs (hey, it’s the same process, just a different species), and I knew it needed to be pushed in further, but the emotional side got the best of me, and I administered the glycerin. Immediate success! Carrot-colored milk curds came shooting out at the speed of light. Luckily, we had been slightly prepared, and only the changing mat had to be cleaned. This was the day before yesterday. Unfortunately, by that evening, he was back to being uncomfortable again, and I spent most of the night up with him, comforting his tummy as best I could. So, yesterday morning, after checking with the doctor’s office to make sure it was okay, we decided to give another suppository.

This time, we were better prepared. I sacrificed a bath towel and covered the changing table. We stripped him down naked, and Ryan held him on his side while I began the uncomfortable process of administrating another suppository. Again, Ryan protested, but this time, I went with my training and pushed the dispenser in further to get a better shot. Good thing I had sacrificed an entire bath towel. We just stayed there with him until he had finished. Several minutes later, the towel was covered in yellow milk curds, and Carson was much more relaxed. Sleeping, in fact. I wanted to just wash the towel and return it to use, but Ryan was disgusted by this idea and promptly disposed of the poop-filled bath towel (I had used an old one anyway). Life was good again.

Then, much later in the afternoon, I was changing Carson’s diaper when I let my guard down. Even though I was changing a wet diaper, Carson decided he hadn’t been through urinating, and aimed straight for his body and face. So, Ryan and I took him to the bathroom sink to rinse him off. I was standing there holding his little naked body to me, waiting for Ryan to get another diaper, when I felt something warm run down my hand and arm and hit the floor. “What the…” I thought he was peeing again. Not this time. Before I could formulate a plan, he was filling up my hand with those little yellow milk curds. I ran to the sink and held his butt over it, not knowing what else to do. Meanwhile, Ryan’s still standing at the changing table, trying to figure out what just happened. I yelled for him to grab a baby towel, but he still thinks a receiving blanket, bath towel, and burp cloth are all the same things. So, I stood there helplessly, covered in baby poop, while he tried to grab the appropriate item. Finally, I just yelled, “Grab something and get in here!” He ran in with a receiving blanket. Oh well. We got Carson rinsed off and wrapped in the blanket so we could get him back to the changing table. While Ryan put a diaper on him, I assessed the damage: poop running down one of the three nursing tops I own, poop on my tennis shoe, and poop in the floor. Not bad. All Ryan could say? “Son, I never pooped in the sink before.” Lesson learned? Never hold a naked baby unless you’re prepared to be covered in poop. Needless to say, we’ve been doing a lot of baby laundry.


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