Over the weekend, I had to do things to my son that I never imagined doing. I gawked when Bobby Brown similarly stepped up for Whitney — I never dreamed such could be my fate. And believe me, I didn't do it for love, because I love my husband, but you would have to round me up and brand me before I would ever dream of doing this for him (sorry hubby, but that's what medical professionals are for!!!). I did this because I will apparently do anything for my children.
Have you guessed what I'm talking about yet? Did the Bobby and Whitney reference give it away? Yup, I'm talking about poop. Remember poop? And you thought you had read the last of it when Lucas was an infant. Ahhh, you eternal optimists! Sorry to disappoint, but my house is aglow with the trials and tribulations of another infant, so poop was bound to make an appearance in my posts at some point!
Early last week I noticed Justin was constipated. Monday night he was straining to go and could only move a small, hard stone. No poop on Tuesday or Wednesday, so I called the pediatrician's office and was told to try the requisite prune juice and fruit. Justin fiercely opposed the prune juice, so we shoveled in pears and apples, and cut out his binding rice cereal. Thankfully, Justin maintained his pleasant demeanor. Saturday morning when I was changing Justin's diaper I saw a little brown pebble peek out while Justin's face contorted in earnest, yet futile, effort before the pebble receded for good.
At this point, four days had passed since Justin's last poop, so I called the pediatrician's office requesting plan B. I was told I could try pear juice which is more acceptable to infants, I could give Justin a glycerin suppository, or as an absolute last resort, stimulate the pooper with a thermometer and Vaseline. I have never taken my children's temperatures rectally, so I opted for the pear juice and suppository, and off to the store I went.
Soon, the scene was set — Justin lay giggling on the changing table while my mom distracted him with funny faces. I inserted the infant suppository and used a wipe to push it in as far as I could stand, then quickly diapered him up. Literally within four seconds, I could see his tummy contract as his face changed from giggles to concentration, so I undid his diaper only to see the suppository making a fast and furious exit followed by a hard ball of poop which promptly got lodged in the exit-way.
Not wanting a repeat of the morning, without thinking I quickly took a wipe and pulled out the poop. Then repeated with another piece and yet another piece, all the while, Justin was happy to watch my mom's face contort in ghastly disbelief as I did my motherly "duty" (sorry, I couldn't resist!!!). When it seemed like the excitement was over, I inserted a new suppository and diapered the little guy up again. According to the bottle, the suppository didn't have to melt to be effective, and results were typically seen in 15 minutes to an hour, but I imagine in Justin's case, it was the stimulation, if you will, that got things moving along. Success, you're thinking, right? Nope — he didn't make another poop for the rest of the day.
At 3:00 AM Sunday morning we had some additional activity — I set the diaper off to the side so I could inspect it in the morning when I was not comatose and could actually see the fruits of Justin's labor. But when I checked the soiled diaper in the AM, expecting to see a week's worth of poop, I instead saw the virtually intact suppository surrounded by a small pile of brown mush. Could my son have a steel colon, impenetrable to glycerin and pear juice????
Nature finally did run its course and Justin passed the blockage late Monday afternoon, live as my husband changed his diaper! But the ordeal reiterated to me how consuming a child's ailment can be for a parent (case in point, you all are reading about his pooping!), and what lengths a parent will go to to ease discomfort. More importantly, I am now convinced there isn't anything I won't do for my children, as I can only go up from here!