Parenting Insights
Much like riding a bicycle, I once believed that the act of pooping was a skill one mastered for life. However, I’ve come to realize that this journey is far more complex, especially as we navigate the challenges presented by our 4-year-old son, Max.
I was comfortably seated on the toilet, indulging in a rare moment of solitude while scrolling through my phone. This was my sanctuary, a brief escape from the hustle of parenting—what I like to refer to as my personal panic room after dinner, before the bedtime routine began. It was during this precious time that I stumbled upon a humorous post from my younger sister. In essence, she lamented, “I will NEVER get used to cleaning poop out of the tub!” I could only react with a shocked, “Oh my goodness! That’s disgusting!”
As more friends chimed in with sympathetic comments, I felt the urge to avoid tempting fate. I cautiously replied, “Oh, that sounds unfortunate. We’ve managed to avoid that so far.” I was merely playing pretend, convincing myself that we were immune to such mishaps. But then, fate intervened.
“Alex! Oh no… Alex!” my partner, Lily, called from upstairs.
I was on the couch, enjoying some end-of-day screen time with Max, when the gravity of our situation hit hard. “He had an accident. In the tub!”
Panic set in. I know some parents have navigated this journey without experiencing such a crisis. Yet here I was, faced with the grim task of extracting a floating and sinking turd from the bath. Remaining composed was crucial; I needed Max to understand that, despite this profound change in our lives, everything would be okay. I was determined to be a role model, even in the face of horror.
As the days passed without a successful trip to the toilet, our confidence waned. Max, who affectionately referred to his bowel movements as a ‘poop family,’ had become fearful of the act itself. We tried coaxing and bribing him, which occasionally worked, but ultimately led to tears and refusal. This fear turned into a painful backup situation.
In a moment of desperation, I made what I now consider a regrettable decision: I suggested a warm bath as a remedy. To my surprise, the result was catastrophic. Our son, who is the size of a 7-year-old, managed to create a situation reminiscent of a grown man after a heavy meal. In the midst of tearful splashes and contaminated water, I realized that karma had come full circle.
In our modern household, my responsibilities as a father extend beyond traditional roles. While I strive to be a caring and competent nurturer, there are certain tasks that uniquely fall to a mother. As we noted that Max hadn’t gone for a couple of days, Lily stepped in as the comforting guide he needed. Together, they would retreat to the bathroom, where she would offer reassurance through soothing words and gentle encouragement.
Armed with cold compresses and calming strategies, she created an atmosphere conducive to relaxation. With dim lighting and a serene ambiance, she became an unwavering source of support. Eventually, Max found the courage to embrace the process, eventually leading him to a successful resolution.
Unwittingly, Lily has taken on the role of a poop doula—providing emotional and spiritual support to our son during a challenging time.
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In summary, parenting is a journey filled with unexpected challenges, and sometimes it takes a little humor and a lot of love to navigate the messy moments. Lily’s role as a poop doula is a testament to the dedication parents have in supporting their children through all aspects of life.