This weekend I discovered what they mean when they say “a child’s pain is his mother’s pain.”
My little Mason had a terrible case of constipation this weekend. The first sign of it was on Friday. I’ve now labeled myself a bad mommy for not having done something immediately to correct the problem. I guess I thought it would get better on its own.
I got home earlier than usual on Friday to the sounds of his horrific painful cries. My mother was in the bathroom with him. He was sitting in his little Disney Cars potty chair. His diaper off. His eyes filled with tears as he strained to relieve himself. My mom tried to comfort him. By the time I arrived, he was just finishing up. “He’s constipated.” My mom said to me. I did nothing.
Late afternoon on Saturday, after attending a 1 year birthday party, I took Mason to his uncle’s (my brother)house. We ended up spending the weekend there. I noticed Mason had the “I’m pooping” face on a few times throughout the evening but every time I checked his diaper, he was clean. He didn’t poop on Saturday and by Sunday, it was time to let the sucker out. This was easier said than done. Mason tried for a full hour before he was finally succesful. My poor baby was in so much pain. He cried and pushed, cried and pushed but nothing would happen. I took off his diaper and sat in the tub with him, hoping the running water would calm him a bit.
The pain in his eyes was unbearable and I felt useless. There was nothing I could do to make this go away for him. It was the saddest thing. I cried in the tub with him as I held his little naked body close to me.
Eventually it all came out but the look of pain in his eyes still lingers in mind. Never do I want to see him in that position again. It broke my heart. That was on Sunday. Here am today, 2 days later, writing this with blurred vision because the thought of his pain still makes me cry.
Single Mommingly Yours, M