Carina was abnormally fussy last weekend. Every time I set her down her face started to contort into the dreaded pout, then came the cry, and lastly the tears. I attributed it to teething pain, as I had recently fed her, changed her, played with her, and cuddled her. She didn't have a fever, either.
After an hour or so of unceasing grumpy baby, I laid her on the changing table again thinking that an offensive diaper might be to blame. She immediately started crying again and didn't even stop when I handed her the Baby Einstein toy that plays her favorite classical music. This toy ALWAYS makes her stop crying. So, frustrated Mama that I was, I sang "Fuss, fuss fuss, fuss fuss fuss fuss fuss FUSS!" to the tune of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik to keep myself sane as she continued to scream.
That's when I realized what was going on. My poor little peanut must have been ridiculously constipated. Blocked up to the point where any pressure on her little belly or bum was excruciatingly painful. Instead of heading out to the store to get some prune juice or suppositories, we decided to wait it out for a little while. Big mistake.
The only thing that kept her calm was nursing, so I kept her curled up across my chest while I massaged her belly gently. I witnessed a number of loud fart sounds and my nose fell victim to an epic stink, but when I pulled aside her diaper with the enthusiasm of a little kid running down the stairs on Christmas morning, I was disappointed and frustrated to see that Santa had not yet come. I was ready to grab the keys and make haste for the butt bullets (yes, this is what I called suppositories back in my Pharmacy Technician days), but Carina actually fell asleep. I think all of the crying and straining had her pooped - ha, I wish in more ways than one.
I put her in the crib and let her be for a while. I came back in to check on her and was greeted by a stench so heinous I gagged and ran out of the room. I needed reinforcements, so I grabbed M and made him peer into the crib at which point he started laughing so loud he almost woke her up. For what he saw was a peaceful sleeping peanut, surrounded by a reservoir of diarrhea. Fortunately I had had the forethought to put an extra blanket down underneath her in case this very situation arose, but the blanket wasn't enough to contain it. It started spreading...quickly...so much so that we actually considered waking her up. But after her sad, sad morning we decided that it would be better to let her sleep, despite the assault on all of our senses that was getting worse by the minute.
What you can't see in this photo is the poo reservoir starting to form at the back of her diaper. Everything in this crib was harmed in the making of this poopocalypse. I don't know if the seahorse will ever recover from the experience.
After she woke up we carefully peeled her off of the blanket and threw the entire contents of the crib, in addition to every single piece of clothing she was wearing, directly into the washer. She was all smiles at this point. The turd had passed, leaving a happy baby and a roomful of soiled linens in its wake. Curse you, epic poop, for making our baby so miserable and covering everything in sight in a fugly shade of brownish green.
I would like to take a moment to thank OxiClean Baby, for without it, nothing that had been swimming in the lake of refuse would have survived. From here on out, we will keep a supply of suppositories and prune juice on hand. I vow to never let Carina suffer like this again. My poor baby :(
