To Poop or Not to Poop

If you had told me 12 months ago that in a year, one of my biggest worries in life would revolve around poop, I would have giggled, looked at you like you were a wee bit nuts, and politely moved on. But I would not have understood the seriousness of your prophecy, because poop indeed has become one of my major concerns each and every day.



It started when the Insomniac was born. The books and the doctors and the nurses all said we would be changing 4-5 poopy diapers a day. The Insomniac however, decided not to poop at all. Once every 2 or 3 days was sufficient for him and when he did poop, he would scream as if his body were being torn in half. In between the elusive poops, he would be continuously fussy. I actually yearned to change more poopy diapers. (Obviously, I was still overcome with pregnancy hormones at that point.)



I spent hours scouring the internet for facts on infant poop. (Why sleep when there is info about poop to be discovered?) and we visited the pediatrician's office fairly regularly trying to figure out how to get this kid to poop effortlessly. We switched his formula a few times per doctor's orders and were told to give him suppositories. Welcome to Motherhood.

My anxiety levels skyrocketed as I imagined raising a son who never pooped. Would we be administering suppositories to our 9 year old each day? Would we hear his screams from the bathroom as a 15 year old as he struggled to go? Who the h*ll doesn't poop and why did we have the one person in the world who didn't living in our house?

Time passed and the Insomniac soon figured out how to go and that it wouldn't kill him. Though we still never changed 4-5 messy diapers a day, he did go once or twice each day. Please don't be jealous and think we lucked out though. When he did go, he made us pay dearly for bestowing upon him bowels of destruction which I swear are from his father.

It's not that he would go and they would be massive. Oh, we had those, you know the ones that ruin outfits and require an immediate bath. But we had trickery involved too. One time he pooped and Al began changing him. Just as soon as the Insomniac was positioned perfectly, he squirted out a little more that flew straight up into Al's eyes. Thank God Al wears glasses. Or what about the time Al was again changing him, (I'm pretty good at getting out of changing dirty diapers, eh? HA!), and once again the Insomniac let more rip as soon as the diaper was off, this time sending it flying across the bedroom onto the lamp, floor, and wall.

At 8 months old, the Insomniac is much more regular and goes with much more ease, (and less trickery), but I still find myself at work worrying if he's gone at least once each day and cheering him on like an idiot when he does go. I never thought I would actually want to change dirty diapers and poop would be a priority in my life. I love motherhood. :)