I try to write every week based on what is going on in our lives at the moment. Last week was a rough one, though still very honest, this week we’re talking a whole lot of shit.
I think my daughter bursts some blood vessels–on her cheeks–while pushing out a very little nugget.
I’ve nursed my daughter for all of the eleven months she’s been on this earth. I intend to keep doing so. Her poops are freaking great when she nurses. So pure. No constipation, no foul smell, sometimes runny up the back, but nothing we can’t handle. That’s nice and all, and that boob juice is super nutritious but she’s a big, healthy girl. She needs more than just milk. We were very slow on the puree path and now we’ve moved on into the solids stage, still slow. Since I’ve been introducing our girl to solids, it’s been a little rough. She would laugh at the choice of wording for that last sentence. Though the size of those bad boys are “little” they are far from “a little rough”.
The other day we were on our way home from the store and as my chauffeur husband, ( I sit in the back seat and say it’s because of the baby but I just want to feel like VIP) was driving us I was cheering our little one on as she was pushing. I wasn’t sure what to do, something was clearly needed as she was looking to me for some answer. I decided support was best. She was pushing hard, but not too hard that she couldn’t shine a smile. She smiled then looked concerned but hey, Mamma’s cheering so this must be good, right? After about fifteen minutes of on and off again pushing, she got the job done. We were both so relieved and thought that would be the last bit of constipation but not so fast.
This morning I was getting dressed and turned around as the playing and laughing stopped. My girl was standing against the baby gate of her cage bed. Side note–we ditched the crib and made a sweet bed on the ground–it’s gated, so we call it a cage–not because we’re asshole parents, but because she’s a beast. Babe was looking up at me pushing, so determined, and somehow with a smile on her face. I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically which only made her smile more while clenching onto the damn gate. I thought it was just about done so I took her out of her bed and put her on the floor so she could be free. The next thirty minutes she was on and off pushing. Red faced, clenching onto the side of the bed while looking up at me once again, for some reassurance. I smiled and rubbed her back. She crawled to her window corner and said good morning to all her friends going off to work. Then, she came back to me for more re-assurance. And so it went, four diapers and sweet rosy cheeks speckled in popped blood vessels, she was smiling and on with her day.
Only if we could all be such happy shitters.
As much as I love the laughs, I can’t wait to get the whole solid food thing down. I cannot wait to get the introductory period for these new foods out of the damn way. I prefer healthy bowel movements for myself, of course, but more importantly for my daughter who shakes her hands and begins to freak out in panic once the turtle comes out of it’s shell. Those poops are not so pure and the diaper changing game is at a whole new level. Straight stanky.
I hope I can share a few good laughs. It’s been so ridiculous around here these days trying to get little bear feeling better and things moving smoothly.
I think she’s starting to get an idea of what pushing her out felt like. I’ll remember her pushing during the birth of our next babe. I definitely took notes.
Don’t be shy. Tell me all about those poop stories, I know there’s plenty to share.