Monday, March 12th, 2012
I may switch careers and become an OB/GYN. Because I think I just took Fia through labor and delivery. Last week I wrote about our impasse on the poop. She wants to “poop in the potty”–and has a few times–but then gets nervous about it. She went three days talking about poop and holding her hand on her butt without producing anything. We are trying not to pressure her, but it can’t feel good (or be good for you) to hold it in like that. On the third morning, as she continued to say, “No poop-poos” (which means the opposite), I took her for the 105th time to the toilet. This time I got down on my knees and told her to hug me and push really really hard. Which she did. Then, without any plop, she declared for the 106th time, “All done.”
Thing is, I could (and yes, this is going to get gross) smell it. So I turned her around and saw the poop descending out of her butt crack. I threw her back on the toilet and harkened back to being in labor. “Fia, I can see it! It’s coming! You have to keep pushing,” I shouted. (Of course in my labor with Fia, she never came out the hole and we had to C-section). “It’s coming,” she cried back. “Yes, it’s coming!” I reiterated, while looking back again into her butthole. The only word I didn’t use was “crowning” as I feared she’d go to preschool saying she crowned a poop. Then I’d have a lot of explaining to do.
So there we sat, Fia laboring her poop, me coaching her, until finally out came… tada: one little pebble. No f–king way. That’s like birthing the pinky finger and the rest of the baby is still in the canal. So once again, I turned her around and saw a bunch more. Thus, the coaching began in earnest until–out it came. Lots of it. She was so visibly relieved. I felt this bonding moment–like we birthed a baby together. In many ways we did. Just not one you want to keep.
We wiped her up, did the “happy poop dance” and put on a pull-up. She proceeded to poop 4 more times that day–in her diaper. Not that I cared. And for the past couple days it’s been hit or miss. But we’re getting there. I realize the sh-t is exhausting!
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