I previously reported that Mister Henry did not appreciate my attempts to introduce him to the world of solid foods. For about a week, he remained unimpressed with my efforts.
And then, one day, for no apparant reason, he decided to give it a whirl and proceeded to eat about 2 tablespoons of rice cereal!!! Hooray! Streamers and confetti! Yippeeee!
Then, he did not poo for four days.
Four (4) days. One. Two. Three. FOUR.
That is a long time to wait for baby poo. A long time. After spending about 48 hours peering hopefully into his diapers, we called the pediatrician who recommended apple juice. Little Lad Henry refused to take a bottle (that stinker!) so we squirted it in his mouth with a medicine syringe. That'll teach him.
After 72 hours, I started to worry. Not about his health so much- he was acting fine and happy, and my mom assured me that he would not die of constipation. No, I was worried about when he would eventually poo. When, where, and on whom.
Henry was getting baptized the next morning, and I had this terrible vision of him holding in four days worth of poo until the worst possible moment. I just knew in my heart that I would get him all dressed up, up to the front of the church, hand him to the pastor, and he would joyfully, blissfully, thoroughly blowout his diaper. There would be poo all over the pastor's suit, poo dripping all over the communion table, poo contaminating the baptismal water. I could go on, but let's just say I have a rich inner life, and it tends to pessimism occasionally.
Thankfully, I was wrong. He was a perfect angel all through the church service, no poo. (side note: Pictures to come. Get excited. He wore suspenders.) Through the whole day of celebrating with family and friends, no poo. Everyone packed up and trickled out of our house, no poo. Around 7 that night, we hit the official 4 day mark. 4 days, no poo.
I resigned myself to visiting the pediatrician's office the next morning. Rumor had it, they were going to prescribe an enema. Motherhood has had a few gross moments in it thus far, but I was really hoping to NOT have to stick anything in anyone's butt for just a liiiiiiitle while longer. Just a little bit longer. Is that too much to ask??
Then, that evening, sitting in his little bouncy gym, he did it. Released a poo the likes of which no diaper could ever hope to contain. 4 whole days worth. It was everywhere. It was nasty. And I was elated. ELATED, I TELL YOU!
Elated? By poo? Who am I??? I was consumed by poo for 4 days straight. I thought about poo, talked about poo, looked for poo, prayed for poo. And then, I celebrated poo with a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. I knew motherhood would change me some, but no one told me how into poo I would be.
They should warn you about that.