Over a year ago, I related the tale of the hard poop.
The hardest thing that Z had to do. Or do0-doo.
Well, it happened again.
Her appetite had been light that day. She hardly ate anything. She may have felt/been clogged up.
But anyway, she was her usual boisterous self that evening, bouncing off the walls which was her way of getting ready for bed.
She hadn’t pooped the whole day, and while we were not worried, we were taking notice.
So anyway, as per her usual practice, as she started to get ready to poop, she would slow down and be quiet.
PL notice this and asked her, “are you pooping?”
“No!” Z denied, defensively. A sure sign that she was probably going to if not already in the process.
But the moment passed, and she resumed her pre-bed activities.
Then suddenly, she stopped.
“Where pain? Where pain?” I asked anxiously.
She cried louder.
“Are you pooping? Does it hurt?”
She nodded through the tears streaming down her face.
Was it just gas or is she constipated? We applied medicated oil to her tummy. It seems to help, but she is still crying inconsolably.
We offered to hold her or hug her but she refused, preferring to stand and cry, just holding onto our hands.
At one point she was saying, “I don’t want, daddy! I don’t want, mommy!”
We didn’t quite understand her. We thought she was saying, “I don’t want daddy. I don’t want mommy”, which was confusing. And not a little painful (emotionally) to be rejected.
When I understood, what she meant was, “I don’t want (this pain), daddy (help me)! I don’t want (this pain), mommy, (make it go away)!”
It was heartrending to see her cry and not be able to help her. Or even alleviate her pain.
And yet she seemed to understand that this was all within her and there was nothing mommy and daddy could do to help her.
She just had to endure it.
And she was too young for me to tell her that, “this, too, shall pass (out)”.
And laugh at my little joke.
I asked her if we could bring her to the bathroom. She nodded in desperation. She didn’t like baths, or specifically, having water on her face or hair.
But she probably was willing to try anything to ease the pain.
I wasn’t sure what I could do, but within a minute, she was objecting to the water on her butt, and changing her mind about the bathroom. Bad enough she was in pain, she didn’t need to get wet as well.
So we brought her back to the room.
PL tried to put another pull-up diaper on her because, well, she didn’t have one on, and she was trying to poop.
BUT… Z would have none of it! I guess she was so uncomfortable, she would rather not have anything clinging to her butt.
So there she was butt naked, and carried by PL, who was in danger of any time becoming a bio-hazard. Or contaminated by one.
But, Z managed to fall asleep then – carried on PL’s shoulder, she fell asleep. Probably exhausted by the pain.
“It’s good she can finally sleep,” PL said.
“How do you know she’s asleep and not fainted from the pain?” I asked.
Until PL tried to put the diapers on again, and Z protested.
“Ok. She was just asleep. Leave the diapers off, then.”
“What if she poops?” PL asked.
“Well, you’re carrying her. So… not my problem,” I said with pre-schadenfreude.
But when Z was in deeper sleep, PL pulled on a diaper. Z continued sleeping.
Then she sat up. Then she stood up.
Then she started to wail again.
It was a whopper, and it was uncomfortable for her to pass it.
But pass it she did.
As we changed her diaper, we wondered if we could get a doctor to give us an emergency epidural we could give Z if this happened again.
And we discussed if a 10 kg toddler passing a 100 gm stool was harder than a 40 kg woman (PL) giving birth to a 2.5 kg baby.
In terms of proportion, no contest. The baby was more than 5% of PL’s weight. Z’s hard stool was only about 1% of Z’s weight (estimate).
BUT… PL had epidural, and eventually a c-section.
Z passed the stool naturally. Without epidural.