There’s poo on my thumb

She looks innocent, but what is lurking in her nappy?

Hannah used to tell me when she’d done a poo.  Ok, by tell, I mean she would cry and whinge.  Now, she doesn’t seem to care until it’s been there so long it starts to give her a rash and her bottom hurts.  That of course doesn’t happen often, as the smell usually tips me off.  Sometimes though, the smell is contained within her britches, not piercing the outside world, not alarming me (or anyone else) to the chaos that has happened inside her nappy.  So now, I check her nappy frequently, just in case.  I don’t want her to have a sore, red, raw, rashy bottom that makes her scream when I try to get the poo off.

After bible study today, I picked Hannah up from the creche.  She loves the creche.  Anyway, as a last minute thought, I decided to check her nappy on the off chance she’d done one of those smell-stays-in-her-nappy poos so she wouldn’t have to ride in the car with it all the way home.  My usual nappy checking method consists of me preventing her from running away with one hand, while pulling the nappy open at the top in the back, so I can peek in, with the other.  Sure, I could hold her up and sniff her bottom, but that makes me feel a little bit too much like a dog.  Not to mention sometimes there is smell (since she farts all the time), but no poo.

“How is your bottom Bubba?”  I should have asked her if she did a poo poo.  Sometimes she will tell me “poo poo” if she has.  Of course, she also tells me that she wants bubba for dinner  (“what do you want for dinner?” “BUBBA!”), so what she says can’t always be trusted.

My thumb went for the back of the nappy.  It was met by something squishy.  Something warm.  Something HORRIBLE!  I looked in, shocked to see a poo all the way up the back of her nappy, my thumb resting right in it.  To make things worse, she ate blueberries yesterday (just think about that for a minute).

“I just put my thumb in poo!”  I announced loudly.  Humph.  No one was listening.  They were all engaged in their own conversations, with loud children running around them, making it nearly impossible to hear me.

“There’s POO on my thumb!”  I was louder this time, but still to no avail.  I’m not quite sure what I expected them to do with the information.  Maybe I just wanted sympathy.

I frantically rumaged through my purse (one-handed of course), fending off the small bubba hands that were also trying to rummage through my purse at the same time.  Phew, I found the wipes.  I wiped my thumb clean.  Ick, it was under my THUMBNAIL!  That is so disgusting….  How do you possibly get all of the poo fragments out from under a long thumbnail without leaving any behind?  I tried not to think about it and kept wiping.

I took Hannah to the bathroom and changed her nappy.  Then, I washed my hands with a copious amount of soap and prayed that never, EVER, would that happen again.

Hannah’s guide to being cheeky

1. Throw all of your food on the floor and then say DONE! and/or GONE! while giving Mommy a cheeky but innocent look.

2. After Mommy takes off your poopy nappy, flail your feet and bottom around and watch Mommy get increasingly frustrated as she dodges your pooey bottom and tries her hardest not to get poo all over herself.  Increase giggles as Mommy gets more frustrated.

3. Sip water out of your cup but instead of swallowing it, spit it back out, all over yourself, so Mommy has to change your clothes (she could just leave you all wet, but if she’s like my Mommy, she wouldn’t do that to you while it’s still cold out).

4. Bite Daddy’s nose.  Make sure you get the inside of Daddy’s nose.  Giggle, giggle, giggle.

5. While Mommy is folding laundry, innocently walk into her room, then quickly grab a stack of clothes and run off.

6. Open your closet/dresser, whatever you have, and throw all of your clothes around your room.

7. As soon as Mommy or Daddy puts your shoes on, run away, sit down somewhere, and then take them off.  If you’re feeling really mischievous, hide one or both shoes.

8. Unzip Mommy’s purse (I wonder why Daddy’s don’t have purses.  They seem so convenient.  Where do Daddy’s put all of their Daddy things?) and pull all of its contents out.  Make sure you open the wallet (I use my teeth, it’s far easier) and take out all of Mommy’s cards.  Just for a bit more fun, grab something that Mommy really needs from the purse and run off giggling.

9. Open the pantry and take out the tupperware of spaghetti.  Open the tupperware, dump out all of the spaghetti, then walk all over it so it breaks in little pieces.  Pick up some of the pieces and deposit them all around the kitchen.  Don’t try to eat them, they don’t taste very nice when they’re not cooked (I know from experience).

10. Point to Mommy’s chest and say “Booby.”  Hahaha.

11. Pull Mommy’s shirt up and try to steal the shiny sparkle-y thing that she keeps in her belly button.  I Haven’t been successful in the quest so far.  Maybe one day I’ll be able to get the shiny thing.

12.  Pull down Mommy’s shirt and try to take the spot off of her (she calls it a mole.  “Hannah, Mommy likes her mole there, don’t try to take it off…”).  I scratch, pinch, and sometimes use a combination of both.

13. Make sure Mommy or Daddy or Grandma is watching, and then go touch the garbage bin.  Keep touching it and give them a cheeky grin (because you know you’re not supposed to touch it, and they know that you know).

14. When you play outside, find a puddle, run straight into it, then jump up and down.  Make sure you get your shoes soaking wet, all the way through your socks, and preferably up your pant legs as well.  I also recommend sitting down in the puddle and slapping it with your hands.

15. When you are having a bath, stand up and run around so Mommy can’t get a hold of you to wash your face and hair (I hate having my face and hair washed!).  Laying on your belly and kicking your feet in the water, making lots of splashes is great too.

16. Say “Daddy!” and when Daddy looks at you, flick the straw of your cup so water hits Daddy in the face.  Laugh heartily when Daddy says “Hey, you got Daddy in the eye,” and then do it again.

17. Run into your room and then when Daddy tries to follow you, shut the door.  When he opens it, giggle, giggle, giggle, then close it on him again.  Repeat as desired.

18. Spill something on the floor (or find something that is already there).  Put your index finger in the  middle of the spill and then move it around.  Try to make the spill spot as big as possible.

What’s that smell?

I’d been smelling it all day.  There was no mistaking it.  It was poop.  It was following me around.  Was it Hannah?  I checked her bottom.  Nope, no poop there.  Was she just farting?  Maybe, she does fart long, loud and often.  I checked my shoe.  It didn’t smell like dog poop, but maybe I’d stepped on a wayward nugget.  You never know….  No poop there.

We went out in the car.  The poop was following me!  Hannah wasn’t cranky, she didn’t seem to have a stomach ache with noxious gas emissions.  I know it seems a little crazy, but I checked under the seats.  Nothing.  Well, ok, not nothing, our car is very messy (mainly due to a) I can’t be bothered to clean it, b) I don’t have time to clean it, and c) I’m kind of scared of what I’ll find in there), but there was no poop there.

We went to the grocery store.  The poop followed us.  I was going crazier with every step. WHERE WAS IT COMING FROM!?!?!?!?!

We went to the register to pay for our purchases.  I opened my purse.  Oh snap, there it was.  The little blue tied up bag was staring right at me as I unzipped my purse.  In the little blue tied up bag was a nappy.  A poopy nappy.  All of you non-Mommies, I can hear all of your horrified gasps from here.  Why would I have a poopy nappy in my purse?  Oh my goodness, why would I have a POOPY nappy in my purse?  WHO puts a poopy nappy in their purse?!  Next time you are in the middle of, well, anywhere without a bin, and you have to change a poopy nappy, and have nowhere to put it, then you’ll understand.  This is the exact reason that some clever person invented the little scented poop sacks (ok, nappy sacks).  Roll up nappy, put in bag, tie up, put where you can.  Only, you’re not supposed to forget that you put it there like I often do.  Sure, I could litter, but I don’t condone littering, and I’m pretty sure that some other mother doesn’t want their unsuspecting child to excitedly run up to the colourful poopy bag, pick it up, and frolic about.  So yeah, I put poop in my purse.  Deal with it.

Ok, so these ones aren't blue like mine, but you get the idea

The wayward nugget

Her feet are kicking.  Her shoulders are trying desperately to wiggle out from under my hand and pop up so she can turn over.  Her torso is turns into a super bendy wiggle worm.  All extremities are flailing as I try my hardest to keep her laying down on the change mat, her feet away from her pooey bottom.  One hand is busy holding her down, the other trying to keep her feet away from poo as well as moving the pooey nappy away from her.  And then it happens.  A nugget is accidentally set free.  It rolls out of the nappy and onto the change mat.  Feet are flailing.  They narrowly escape turning an interesting shade of browney-green.  I dodge the flailing extremities and go in with a wipe.  Oh no, the wayward nugget escapes me and falls on the floor.  I can’t look for it now, there is a flailing baby with her bare pooey bottom hanging out laying (unwillingly) on top of a table.  No, I have to finish with Hannah first, then go in search of the wayward nugget.  Ok, Hannah’s bottom is clean, bottom creamed, nappied, and pantsed (is that a word?  Oh well, now it is).  I look under the table.  No sign of the nugget.  Bugger, where has it gone?  How far can a poo nugget roll?  What if Hannah finds it first?  Will she try to eat it?  Will she try to squish it in her pudgy little baby hands?  I can’t find it anywhere.  Inside, I’m freaking out a little.  The search continues.  It doesn’t help that the 70s/80s carpet is poo brown.  I can’t vacuum, that probably wouldn’t fare so well for the vacuum itself.   Freak out continues.  I peer under the freestanding fin oil heater.  The wayward nugget stares right back at me.  I can almost hear it laughing.  I move the heater, go in with a wipe, and finally, the wayward nugget is contained.   Who knew that motherhood would include elusive hide and seek games with wayward nuggets?  Not me.

baby poo, vomiting, and sleepless nights

Time since birth: 3 weeks 1 day
Total weight loss: don’t know, keep forgetting to weigh myself before eating
Weight loss this week: see above

I’m starting to get used to middle of the night feeds, posseting (spit up/baby vomit), crying, etc. You’re in the hospital for 2 nights (some people are there for only one, or none!), then you go home, and really have no idea what you’re doing. I have to admit, I called the midwives at the hospital at night more then once when I was still “under their care” (which was until Hannah was a week old) to ask questions. The charts all say baby poo is yellow, what if it’s green? I call and ask. I think I’m just a paranoid mom. Is it ok that she only sleeps for 12 hours in a 24 hour period (it is for now, call back if it doesn’t improve)? Is that going to affect her development (no, the average 16-18 hours sleep per day is an average, some babies sleep for 10 hours, others 20, depends on the baby)? Is it ok that she poops about 10 times a day, a lot of the really small little poops (yes, some babies poop after every feed, some do just a couple of big poops, everybody poops!)? She gets the hiccups a lot, is that normal (yes, and it doesn’t bother infants apparently, although Hannah doesn’t seem to like them much)? She gets a lot of wind, is it ok to use infacol (wind drops for babies that bind all their wind together so they can easily get it up in one big burp/fart. And yes, it’s fine to use it does not harm them one little bit)? How do I know when one boob is empty (still not really 100% sure on that one…)? The lump in my boob has exploded to about 5 times the size that was, is that due to hormones (probably, but I will have an ultrasound on it again just to be sure. Then if it looks dodgy, I will have another biopsy. I had one a year ago, and it was just a fibroadenoma, which is benign. I think my body just likes to make lumps and tumours to scare me)? They probably think I’m a pest calling so often. But you know what? We just want the best for our baby, and want to make sure we are doing everything right.

Grandma gave me a book a number of months ago called “What to Expect When The First Year.” I just started reading it, and found that I’m normal. I’m not the only one that goes into baby’s bedroom to look at baby while she is sleeping just to make sure she is breathing. I’m not the only one who worries that I’m not making enough milk, or that she is not getting enough milk. Apparently pretty much every mother on the face of the earth does these things, which probably means that a lot of mothers call the midwives at the hospital to annoy them with questions like I did. The book answers a lot of questions, and has a month by month what to expect. I highly recommend it.

The other night, I woke up to the sound of crying on the baby monitor. I wasn’t feeling particularly hot, but I thought I must have been, as I was sweating between my boobs. It took me a bit to realise that it wasn’t sweat at all, my let down (when the milk starts flowing) has decided to not wait until Hannah starts sucking, but instead starts when she cries. I had milk all over my chest. Lucky I bought a few boxes of breast pads before Hannah was born.

I have a special chair in Hannah’s room that I feed her in (except sometimes during the day I feed her on the couch now that I’m skilled enough to do so). It’s a gliding rocking chair, with a boomerang pillow that I put on my lap to lay Hannah on so I don’t have to actually hold all of her weight. I lay her on her side on the pillow, across me, with her mouth on the chosen boob. One day, after feeding her, I noticed she had a wet patch on the front of her onesie, off to one side. How in the world did she wet herself there?? I could understand it a bit if she were a boy, maybe it was pointing there when laying on his side or something, but a girl? At the next night feed, it happened again. How in the world are you doing this, little one? That is when I realised that when feeding on one side, the other side leaks. She didn’t wet herself at all, I wet her! I don’t particularly like wearing a bra to bed, so now I just put a breast pad between me and Hannah during the night feeds. Problem solved, no more wet Hannah Banana.

Friday I met with some of the girls from my antenatal class (and a couple of the husbands were there too as they had not yet gone back to work). We (girls) decided that we want to meet up regularly and go for pram walks (a walk while pushing babies in prams) and lunch. I decided (ok, Hannah’s tummy decided) that would be the perfect time to try feeding in public. I don’t really want to be one of those “hi, here’s my boob” people, so how do you do it discreetly? We all went to the local cafe, but they seemed none to happy to accommodate us and didn’t even try to help us move tables so we could all sit together and have room for our prams (even though they didn’t have any customers at the time, and would have gotten a nice chunk of change since there were quite a few of us), so instead we went to the pub. Hannah decided before we arrived that it was meal time, so I had to do it. It was quite awkward at first. I got one of the girls to hold up a cloth while I attached Hannah, but when you have to do it a few times (she likes to be burped a few times during each feed), that is just not practical. On the other hand, I didn’t really want everyone to see my boob and nipple, so what do you do? I tried to do the cloth thing myself (throw it over your shoulder, try to attach baby), but how do you see what you are doing? That didn’t work. I finally decided the best way is to bring baby to boob, then when baby’s head is blocking view of boob, that is when you pull up your shirt. Before you bring baby’s head to boob, unhook feeding bra so all you need to do when baby is blocking view of boob is pull up shirt, and bam, baby is on nipple, and unless someone was really trying to see and at the right angle (like sitting right next to you), no one will see your goodies. At least I don’t think they will. I feel a lot more comfortable with the whole thing now. The build up was nerve wracking, you just have to do it.

We still haven’t taken Hannah to very populated places (like shopping centres) (she has only been for walkies around where we live, to the pub for lunch, bible study, and church). Maybe we are being over protective, but we are afraid of taking her where lots of people are because we don’t want her to get their germs. Swine flu is on the prowl, we don’t want our little Hannah Banana to get swine flu! We decided that when she is 6 weeks old, then we will start taking her out. Her little immune system is just not ready for the world yet (or our silly brains, one or the other).

The linea nigra (line going down the centre of my belly) is supposed to go away after birth, but I wonder how long it takes. Mine is still there, loud and proud. It does look rather odd, with no big pregnant belly to accompany it. It hasn’t even remotely faded. I still can’t fit my butt into my pre pregnancy jeans (which fit me with the belly belt until the last couple of months of pregnancy when my butt seemed to expand), yet I am quite small, so I must have been really small before. And I always thought I had a big bum. I suppose I’ve just gotten bigger all over, so you don’t really notice that I’m bigger then before I was pregnant (it’s in proportion is what I’m trying to get at. I don’t make a lot of sense, must be lack of continuous sleep).

One night, I awoke to something touching me. As I woke up more, I realised I was being patted. Aaron was patting me like you pat a baby. Rhythmically, gently, patting my hip (I was on my side). He must have been dreaming about holding Hannah because he was fast asleep. I grabbed his hand and held it against my hip. I got some nonsense, not actual words asleep garbledy goop in response.

Everyone tells us how cute little Hannah is. People even say she looks like a doll. I may be biased, but she certainly is cute! I may be weird, but I often just look at her while she is feeding, or sleeping on my shoulder, and marvel at how absolutely cute she is. Her little face is just perfect. When she gets an upset tummy (wind), I wish I could just take away her pain so she never has to feel it. I want to protect her from everything. I guess that’s just being a Mom.