Oopsy-daisy

Sometimes you go to change a diaper and you end up changing four. Or five. I lost count. Don't ask about the state of the floor.

The Wonders of Poo

I am, and have been for many years, well acquainted with poo in it's many forms. Sick poo and healthy poo. Geriatric poo and neonate poo and all ages in between (all though less well known is the adolescent poo age spectrum, I haven't had much experience with that poo-group). I am, you might recall, a nurse. Squeamishness is not allowed.

But my experience up until now has had a certain emotional distance; I had Fecal Episodes and Educational Experiences in Incontinence. There were no emotional overtones to whether or not the patient in room seven was really constipated or whether she was merely bowel obsessed. My previous run-ins with baby waste; Mother-Infant Nursing and the earlier introduction by my sister's young children; were more academic in nature.

That has now changed. First of all, in the last 3 weeks ( as of today if you wish specifics) I have probably seen more poop than in the 3 years of nursing. The quantity astonishes and amazes. Even more so when contrasted to the tiny size of this poo-making machine.

Second, it matters now. Meconium was expected and so wasn't too traumatic for me. But transitional poop was an unexpected trauma. Was it too late in changing? Did it take too long? Was it the jaundice or was he just developmentally delayed, even in his stools? Finally things seemed on track, as it were, and flowing normally.

Then the blow fell. Diarrhea. Or not. How do you tell? None of my previous experience could have helped here. Baby poop would be diarrhea had it come from an adult. But it doesn't so none of the normal indicators work here! Oh, help! What's a bear of little brain to do?

Thank the Lord above for grandparents. And sisters who work for pediatricians. Many phone calls and much internal obsessing later I have it figured out, I think. Consistency-slightly too watery and frequency-slightly too often. But only very slightly. Thus the decision is made. Dairy must go! I was lactose intolerant as an infant and that little gem seems to have carried through. Problem solved, mostly, 'cause I can't give up cheese. Nope, not happening.

In addition to the angst-filled response to poor Sprout's poo there is a certain awe in it's periodic poetry.

A few days ago I was up with the Sprout for his morning feeding when I heard the distinctive sound of a dirty diaper being made. Now I have found that the Sprout poops in threes so I was in no hurry to hop up and change him. I finished feeding him and heard a few more spurts happen. "Ah!" I said to myself "It's safe!"

I then undressed him and removed the item in question. As I did so the fountain which little boys are so famous for began. All is well though, as his quick-thinking mama pulled the mostly saturated diaper up over the offending part. Safe! Feeling more than a little smug I finished taking off the diaper and threw it away.

Just as I turned back from the diaper pail I saw a perfect fountain fall delicately in his ear followed by a yellow stream of baby poo arching gracefully out from the other end of him, over the end of the changing pad, and landing on the nearby wall. The contrast of the bright, primary colors was quite striking as the poo quickly ran down the nursery's blue wall, rushing to meet the carpet. I was able to save the carpet, just, from the waterfall of baby poo. Unfortunately in my amazement at young Sprout's artistry and irony I had neglected to notice the poo dribbling down the front of the changing table and so the carpet did not go unscathed.

The culprit at the scene of the crime

On Names

There was great discussions as to what the sprout would be named on arrival. At least The Geek partially listened to my long monologues on the subject. The first name was relatively easy, mostly because I don't have nearly as strong an opinion on boy's names as I do with girl's names. But the second name gave us some difficulty. Every thing that I really liked The Geek vetoed and vice versa. We finally settled on a name we both liked both on it's own and in conjunction with his Christian name.

My parents now tell us we choose poorly. His name clearly, they say, should be Harold. Why you ask? Well, look here...

And now look here.

Do you see what they see? It's really more noticeable when he's very, very relaxed and all splayed out into the same body position, but I'm not posting (or taking) any photos like that because I'm not quite that comfortable with breastfeeding!

I have informed my esteemed parents that the likeness will fade over time but the sprouts name will not and there is no way on earth I'm saddling any child of my with a name like Harold! Which, I'm sure, is a very fine name if it happens to be yours. Sorry?

And one more photo for the road, because I think he's cute.

Yeah, that's more then one, I know. But he's Cute! And that's all the justification I need.

RE: Hello

So given that I haven't posted anything for, um, *cough * *cough* 4 years I thought it might be best to start over again. Mostly this is for family but in case anyone else wanders on and sticks around for more than 5 seconds a brief introduction may be in order.

Hi! I'm Debbie, a nurse working in the admissions center of a local hospital, currently on Maternity leave for the first time due to the arrival of a small and voracious sprout. Techno-geek and I didn't figure out until shockingly late that it was the sprouts impending arrival was the cause of my extreme laziness and slightly twitchy stomach. This was embarrassing in the extreme as, you know, I am a nurse. Please don't judge. There were reasons this didn't occur to me. Good ones! Really! *sigh*

So the wee stomach has arrived and is, in fact, two weeks old today. I have been hearing with increasing regularity the chorus of "Send us pictures!" from our far

-flung family so I have dug my little point & shoot camera out of the closet. (The giant and intimidating manual camera is really not my thing, I'll leave the good quality pictures for The Geek [that title is given in love, btw and I mean geek in the 3rd definition. Most assuredly not the 1st, 'cause that's weird.]) Anyway, I though to myself, I though "Hmm, if I'm going to take the time to post pictures for people, maybe I should also post stories too. I should see if my blog is still sitting in the moldering corners of the internet!" So I did. And it was. And here we are today.

I leave you for now with this evidence of my son's cuteness and his father's weirdness. I had nothing to do with it, I just took the picture. Sprout doesn't look to thrilled either. His father was laughing uproariously.