Okay.....this is about to become gross for some. So if you have a squeamish stomach, time to turn away and scrub the kitchen sink.
Yesterday morning during the usual chow fest that is breakfast around here, the baby shoveled fistfuls of small pieces of canned peaches and flaked cereal into his mouth. Suddenly, the baby raised his arms, his face flashed with red patches, and his wide panicked eyes begged me for help. I realized that he wasn't breathing, so I pulled him out, flipped him over and whacked him on the back several times. When I tilted him back up, he still had the same horrifying face and frightening silence coming from him. I flipped him upside down again and whacked him more. He threw up. And I can say for the first time in my life, I have never been so happy to see vomit.
Later Q started screaming from the potty. He was having so much trouble pooping. We rubbed his stomach. We took him from the potty, bent his legs in all positions, and rubbed his belly more. He even convinced us that watching an episode of "HigglyTown Heroes" would help his pain. But after several hours of screaming and crying and shouts of "this is the worst day EVER!" I made the trip to the Fleet aisle. I came home and positioned the child like the diagram showed. The directions said to make the child bear down....So while I attempting to administer my first enema, I got squirted in the face, hair, you name it. I looked at Hunka and said, "If this isn't LOVE I don't know what is."
Finally, I held him as he squatted on the seat of the pot and the desired results came to pass. His sweaty body hugged me and he lay his head on my shoulder and said with with a tired sigh, "Thanks Mom."
He wasn't the only one relieved.