Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Constipation is genetic.
Some of you may not know this, but I am a chronically constipated person. I know, given my sweet nature, it is hard to believe, but entirely true. I wont go into details, but after I gave birth to Mary, I didn't poo for a full 7 days. Yup, no poo for a week. I must say, pooing after that week was up was probably the most painful experience in my life, including labour and childbirth. For those of you who read Dooce, no, it was not in the bathtub, and no, even if it had been, I seriously doubt Ian would clean it up for me. Anyways, it would seem that my daughter has inherited my bowels. It's too bad, I had hoped that she would inherit Ian's metabolism, and his clockwork regular poo schedule, but no such luck. I can still hope for the metabolism thing, I guess. We switched her formula two days ago to a special one designed for babies who spit up a lot. Needless to say, the formula sucks, it keeps clogging the nipples, and causing endless amounts of frustration for all of us. It has also clogged the baby right up. She just spent the last 45(!!!) minutes getting red in the face and grunting like crazy. When I changed her diaper, there was a large, egg shaped, rock hard offering waiting for me. Poor baby. Ian is working late tonight too, I would have liked to have shown him, just to prove that I'm not exaggerating. Tonight, she will drink applejuice, and I don't think we will wait till the tub of fancy formula is finished before we switch her back to the old stuff.