Whoever thought I would become obsessed with poop? That is the question I asked myself, as for five days we waited for our newborn to poop.
On October 17th, we welcomed our son into the world. Labor was the hardest and most rewarding thing I have ever done in my life.
And of course, because we are ridiculously controlling personalities we took to the breast feeding guide that told us how many wet and stool diapers he should be having on a daily basis like it was the bible....and then we waited. And we waited, for this little angel to finally poop.
Whoever thought that I would be on the "Great Poop Watch", but there I was checking every diaper, listening for every passing of gas, and praying our little man would finally poop and that this wasn't a sign of a greater problem. The pediatrician, of course, was not worried "A few more days, sometimes it just takes longer" he would say.
Of course, the entire family (including the extended aunts and uncles) were also on high alert. I can't tell you how many text messages I got asking if the baby had pooped yet. And when he finally did, the giant massive explosion...and I texted everyone that he had finally pooped, there was great rejoicing! Which just cracked me up considering just a few days before all I was concerned about was actually "having the baby". Funny how life changes so drastically, and the shift of what is important and what takes over your life happens so fast. And yet, even with the "Great Poop Watch" over and just a memory, I wouldn't have traded a second of it. Why? because I get to be this little man's mom, and that makes everything worth it.
P.S. - pardon the poor grammar. I am a sleep-deprived, new mom.