Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been plenty happy to see a poop before, but this was different.

I can’t remember exactly when now, but once during Elliot’s first week he went a full 24 hours without going number two. Now, this was particularly distressing for two main reasons: first, we’re nervous nellie first-time parents, and second, in the postpartum wing of the hosptial, which is where we spent our first two days after Elliot was born, the nurses harass everyone about making sure the new babies poop two to three times per day and pee at least six times per day. Poop two to three, pee at least six. Two to three, six. It’s engraved in my brain. Anything less than two to three poops and at least six pees, and the world would explode in a colossal ball of flaming napalm and blood-curdling screams. Needless to say, we were counting his personal-portable toilet (diaper) production like runway models count calories. No poop or pee went unaccounted for.

Then, during that one day, during that first week, we noticed on our potty-tracking spreadsheet that Elliot hadn’t pooped for a few hours. Hmm. His pee production was normal. But no poops. Maybe he’s just thinking of mommy and daddy’s diaper bills. Maybe he’s just trying to consolidate poops. No need for panic.

By nighttime, the poop count was still zero, and Elliot’s parents were becoming nervous wrecks. Every time we went to change his diaper, I’d anxiously ask him, “Ok, boy, do you have a poops for daddy? C’mon, let’s give daddy a big poops!” But no poops. To make our nerves worse, he was appearing to struggle after eating, straining and pushing as if his life depended on it. We figured it was just major gas–and believe me, he had no shortage of gas–but it was starting to dawn on us that he was battling with his bottom to extradite the prisoners. Constipation. As if things weren’t tough enough on a newborn, he already has to face constipation. Sheesh.

Midnight had nearly crept up on us and we were scared spitless. Where were the poops?! Every time the Elliot-mobile backfired, the diaper was still empty. It was like some kind of cruel game. We began to wonder if his diapers had trap doors built in. Or maybe there were diabolical poo-gremlins taking his turds when we weren’t looking. At that point, we were considering all the options. All we did know was that we were calling the doctor first thing in the morning.

But then midnight was upon us, and our luck was about to change. While feeding Elliot, we heard yet another eruption from Elliot’s hind parts. It had the sound of more than just gas, if y’know what I’m sayin’, but we’d heard that before. Truth is, we were scared to hope. But, after his feeding we took him over to our makeshift changing table–our kitchen table with a changing pad on it–and prepared for more disappointment. At that point, what was another poopless diaper, anyway?

I’d told Tania I’d take over the bottom job on this diaper, so she took the comforting-Elliot duties (he was still uncomfortable with people cleaning his parts at that point). Once more daring to hope, I asked again, “Ok, pal, you got a poops for your daddy? Daddy just wants one poops!” I peeled open his diaper and lo and behold, there was the biggest poops I’d seen from him so far! “Son! Son, you made a poops! A big, big poops for daddy!” I was nearly in tears. Tania looked up at me, grinning, excitement filling her face at the sight of her son’s creation. We totally high-fived.

I think that’s the happiest I’ve ever been to see a poop. It was like Christmas. And my birthday. And all eight days of Hanukkah.

Y’know, all the “stuff” in life–material things, ambitions, hopes and dreams–all seem to fade away pretty quickly when the basic bodily functions have trouble. And they fade even quicker when it’s your little baby that’s got the trouble.

-T

P.s. Since the One Day War ended, Elliot’s been a regular potty factory. So much so that I’ve been teaching Elliot basic savings principles. So far, I think he’s got it–plenty of deposits, no withdrawals. :)