If there can be commercials for all of the awkward and private products that are for sale to consumers, there can certainly be a blog post on a constipated baby. So here goes.
This is surely one of those topics that could easily veer off into cringe-inducing territory. So, I’ll do my best to spare you any unnecessarily descriptive details.
|Pictured: the boy's face.|
That said, there really aren’t any to share because this is mostly a post about a baby being very, very uncomfortable and the complete and utter helplessness that a parent is faced with in some situations.
Like many babies Master Blackwell sometimes struggles to “go.” And like any of us in that situation it can be difficult to hide pain or discomfort. Unlike most of us he has to work extremely hard to get results.
The little guy stiffens every muscle in his body, turns as red as a tomato and grunts — sometimes through tears. After a couple of these episodes Mrs. Blackwell got him to the doctor and we got some suggestions on how to get the little guy regular again.
Fortunately, it’s worked and this morning his diaper provided ample evidence of this fact.
Dating back to the fifth grade bowel movements have helped form the bedrock for my sophisticated sense of humor. This little ordeal has changed this — to an extent.
More importantly, it’s forced me to see what it’s like when your child is in pain and there’s really nothing you can do but comfort them. There’s no bottle to give, no amount of hugging or kissing that can help.
After the medicine has been swallowed, you just let the boy know you’re there, that he’s not alone, and wait.
I’ll still enjoy Blazing Saddles, but now, I’ve seen the serious side of bowels and it’s not funny.