Epic baby poops are a recurring theme in this blog, described regularly in their amazing, disgusting detail. I'd imagine that from reading those stories, you'd think that the messes are the worst part of dealing with my daughter's digestion issues. You'd be wrong.
Grace went from Sunday afternoon to late Monday night without pooping, and let me tell you, a backed up baby is a very unhappy baby. I'm talking Birthers on Obama's inauguration day unhappy. Every Mets fan over the past four years unhappy. SEVERELY unhappy.
I'd much rather clean up a stream of Level 5 Stinkers than watch my girl struggle with constipation pain. To even get a normal poop on its way, Grace turns bright red with effort, scrunching her face and contorting her body in terrifying - though still kind of cute - fashion. When she wants to go but can't, all her pained mannerisms are the same, but constant - and heartbreaking, not cute. Plus, they come with discomforted shrieks that will wake her up from her sleep and fits of outright anger.
It turns out, Grace has something of a temper, no doubt fed by the stubborn streak she inherited from her mommy and daddy. She doesn't take frustration well at all, which doesn't bode well for when she's a little older and we introduce her to "no". Beyond that, I'm 100% sure that Carrie and I are totally screwed when Grace becomes a teenager.
Of course, I don't blame her for getting mad. It's a hard lesson to learn so early in life, that sometimes even your own butt will betray you. I'm actually kind of glad that Grace dealt with it by showing so much fight. As tough as it was to watch her struggle, I was proud to see her confront it with so much heart, bravery and determination. She's a tough little girl.
You'll be glad to know that the story has a happy ending. At around 11 o'clock last night, after nonstop attempts to soothe her, much online research, a call to the doctor and a trip to the drugstore, Grace finally pooped. It was immense and disgusting, and I couldn't be happier to see it.
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