Monday, March 27, 2006

Disgusting Stories of Poo

This week I became an official Worrying Mother. I never thought I was the worrying type before, and in fact I wasn’t. I’m really pretty laid back, or at least I was. Now, though, I have a baby to worry about, and I’m doing a terrific job of it. I started noticing that Isaiah’s pee was a darker yellow, and his poop changed color and consistency. (Sorry to everyone out there reading this who isn’t a mom, because it’s gross and you probably don’t understand why anyone would look that closely in the first place.) So I got online to see what it could mean, and lo and behold, it turns out those are signs of dehydration in babies. The signs were listed on numerous websites along with warnings about how Isaiah could die a horrible death if I didn’t fix it soon. So over the course of two days, I watched every single time he went to the bathroom, took his temperature twice a day, collected pee and poop in a cup, and I even smelled a few wet diapers to see if anything suspicious was happening. I came to the conclusion that Isaiah was indeed dehydrated and in grave danger, and so I brought him to the doctor. She checked him out and almost laughed right in front of me, because there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. Apparently he's a super-healthy baby with an overactive worrier for a mother. She wouldn’t even take the sterile poop sample I brought in as proof that he was very sick. She reassured me that he was fine and dandy, and concluded that things changed because Isaiah, unlike most other babies, holds his pee and poop and waits until we take him to the bathroom so it’s more concentrated. She suggested I take him to the bathroom more often and see if it fixed the problem. Of course it did, and I felt like a big worrying idiot. To be honest, though, I didn’t really care, because my little sweetie pie is alright.

I’ve also discovered that Isaiah definitely has a boy’s sense of humor. On Friday, we had a great day out together, and we had been out of the house all day (which was a big relief after being in the house all day for a while.) We had visited Michael at work so that we could have lunch with him, and then Isaiah slept while I walked around the mall for a few hours. It will be so nice when it’s warm enough to walk outside with him. We were finally headed home, and I was slipping Isaiah out of the carrier and into his car seat when he woke up hungry. I decided to just feed him in the car so he wouldn’t be hungry all the way home. As he was eating, I felt him fill his diaper, and I figured I should change it before I started driving, because Isaiah hates dirty diapers. I set down a changing mat on the back seat and got out a new diaper and the travel pack of wet wipes. As I began to change him, I noticed that I only had two wet wipes and made a mental note to refill when we got home. I had him all cleaned up and was lifting his little butt to slip the new diaper underneath, when he grunted and shot out a blast of what looked like guacamole. I screamed in horror as the green poo hit the car, my sweater, my wool coat, the carrier, his legs, the car seat, and my hair. I looked down in shock to see little Isaiah grinning from ear to ear. Yep. He definitely has a boy’s sense of humor. Unfortunately, I had already used the two wet wipes I had, so I just took off my already-pooped-on-sweater and cleaned up what I could while Isaiah smiled on and kicked his feet into even more poop. Then I drove home as quickly as possible, and when we got there, we took a very long bath.

Only someone as cute as Isaiah could get away with pooping on me and still have me so very much in love with him.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Week seven

I decided I needed to write about raising Isaiah because I know that if I don't, years from now I will forget what it was like to have my little baby boy. In fact, I feel bad that I didn't do this from the beginning because there is already so much that has happened in the first seven weeks of his life. He's gone from being a newborn to being...something else, I guess. He's not all curled up anymore, and there's a difference in his eyes when he looks around. His face has become more his, and when I look back on pictures from before, I absolutely marvel at how tiny he was and how gigantic he is now. We will go into the doctor next week to get shots (I'm pretty sure I'm going to cry when they stick my baby, and I might need to be restrained so I don't haul off and deck the nurse who did it) and then we'll get to see how much he's gained. I'm betting he weighs well over nine pounds, though. My little Titan.

I feel very blessed to have such a good baby. I was preparing for a colicky baby because I was one and I figured God would give me my just desserts. I should have known - God always gives me better things than I deserve. Isaiah is just the sweetest little guy I could have asked for. I didn't even know babies came this good. He really only fusses for two or three reasons. He cries when he's hungry and I don't get to him quickly enough and give him lots and lots and lots of milk. He used to cry when we changed his diaper, but that stopped when we stopped using cold wet wipes. I totally understand - I wouldn't want them used on my behind either. Now he just fusses a little if he has to go to the bathroom, and a little more if we don't catch it in time and he ends up going in his diaper. And he cries if he has gas bubbles, but then if you put him tummy down, he'll wiggle his butt in the air until he lets out a toot. It's incredibly cute even though I feel bad for him.

I also feel very blessed to have such a good husband. Michael's wonderful to me - and to Isaiah. I honestly don't know how I would get along without him, and single moms have my newfound respect - as well as my sympathy, because even with a good husband and a good baby, this is hard. To be honest, I don't know how Michael has the energy to be so good to us. He's worked all day long, and he will do homework until late tonight, but despite all that, he's upstairs trying to get Isaiah to pee in the sink so I can sit here and write a little.

Oh - that's one of the most exciting things we've done with Isaiah. We've started potty training him already, and he's really good at it. Instead of just having him go in his diaper, we hold him over the sink and go Pssssssss and he pees (and sometimes poops) in the sink. He still goes in his diaper sometimes because we don't always pay enough attention, but he usually waits and holds it. I think we catch it about half the time and the other half we miss it. It's definately worth it, though, because he hates having a dirty diaper, but he seems to enjoy going in the bathroom. I think it's because he likes the mirror and the bright lights and the fresh air on his cute little bottom. It's also exciting every time he does it because I know it will be so much easier when he's walking and saying "no" to me and we already have so much potty training done. It also makes me feel like I've taught him something which makes me feel important (even though the truth is probably that he has taught me his signals instead of the other way around.) He's learned so much in seven weeks that has had nothing to do with my teaching him. He's learned to focus his eyes and to make different cries for different problems and to hold his head up and to keep his hands in his mouth when he wants them there. He's absolutely amazing.