I'm constantly surprised by the many amazing realities of motherhood.
Today I learned about the importance of poop.
Little Fifi hasn't been able to poop. And it's not for lack of trying. Girlfriend has been straining and screaming all afternoon.
During pregnancy, you don't imagine yourself desperately coaxing your baby to poop or trying every possible mechanism to get your baby to poop. You imagine how icky it'll be to change dirty nappies; you don't realise that some days, you'd cry of joy to see one.
I tried everything I could think of today to help my baby in her Mission Impossible. I massaged her tummy. I bicycled her legs. I gave her a warm bath. I nursed her frequently.
When she finally pooed after her warm bath (into her towel! And I was elated!), I thought her crisis was over. She nursed happily and fell asleep quickly. I fell asleep next to her. But I was then awoken by the most shrill cry I've ever heard from her. I wanted to cry too for my little girl who was in pain.
After more tummy rubbing and leg bicycling and nursing (and several satisfying farts on her end), she's finally calming. She's lying next to me now, trying to nurse my arm and giggling. I better stop this pointless blogging and give my girl some milkies! Her little eyes are showing the tiny baby desperation for the comfort of the titty.