The Anatomy of Infant Excretions
Story story!
This is your reminder that you cannot predict an infant’s excretions. They don’t tell you they want to poo or wee — because, well, they can’t.
This fateful day was my first trial at changing diapers. (My mom had been doing a great job so far, so I was feeling especially confident.) I proudly removed the diaper with ease, rubbed Vaseline all around his tiny butt, and then — bam! — a shot of wee hit me straight in the face.
If you have a girl child, you’ll probably experience a flood in one area. But if you have a boy child, brace yourself. You have two options — and neither is optional.
Option one: urine goes everywhere. Different directions. Even onto that plate of food you set aside because you wanted to change their diaper.
Option two: urine comes straight at you — chest, face — and God help you if your mouth is open. Congratulations, you’ve successfully tasted urine!
And then there’s poop.
I dare you: carry your child without a diaper and see if you can trust them. Spoiler alert: you can’t. While urine might be selective, poop has no boundaries. It oozes out like thick caramel…nope — more like peanut butter flow. And yes, it stinks.
If your baby has been passing smelly gas, just know the coming poop will stink to the power of two. Cleaning it off the floor — or off your body — you’ll notice how sticky and stringy it is.
If your child poops daily, these accidents might annoy you.
But if your child hasn’t pooped in days or a week?
You’ll be rejoicing as you clean that peanut butter mess off the floor.
Breastfeeding or Milk Factory?
It hit me for the first time when my husband said, “You’re this baby’s personal cow.”
Was I angry? Nah… I just laughed it off because, deep down, I knew it was true. At this point, I exist for my baby. I’m his personal milk factory.
My breasts have evolved — from two boring dots on my chest (my nipples), to hard elevations, to plump and rounded. Before I knew it, whenever I talked to guys, their focus were on my breasts and not face. Now, they belong entirely to my three-month-old, who plays with them at will.
Breastfeeding didn’t come as easy as we’ve been made to believe. It started with doubt — questioning if my child was even getting enough. I was on edge, wondering what it should feel like. I certainly didn’t think he would suckle for hours, making it seem like he was surviving on droplets.
Then came the nipple pains. The sores that sent sharp tingles shooting through my breasts each time he latched. No one prepares you for this stuff. You just have to brace yourself and go with the flow.
That’s what I did. But this milk factory did go out of business for a week or two while we supplemented with formula. Because, let’s be honest: while I’m my baby’s personal cow, I’m still a human being who needs personal time to recover — after all the mental and physical journey that is pregnancy and delivery.
