Last night we had an incident... Our first real incident.
After a long day of treating ourselves, we couldn't get Ava to settle. She'd been fussing & crying for a good few hours, which is completely out of character for her. She seemed only happy when she was feeding, which we clearly couldn't keep up - not at her rate. Something wasn't right at all... And after a while of eliminatig posibilities of what could be upsetting her, it occured to us. She has only just started going regular poops, and making decent weight gains, but she hadn't pooped for the last few days. While the feeding might've soothed her, it was giving her a massive tummy ache!
So there we were in our pjs, desperately tired, urging her to poop. Not the ideal way to cap the amazing weekend we'd had with her.
After a bit of tummy massage & a few tricks the doctors showed us, out it came. Initially, slowly, like squeezing toothpaste from a tube, then, it erupted. All over the place. Usually when I see those banal comedies about a fish-out-of-water dad with a rectally-incontinent baby, I switch off. Now, though, I know it to be true. I was as impressed as I was sickened... Poop was flying everywhere - she was getting some amazing range, her aim wasn't too bad either... I was laughing maniacally at the whole situation (mainly the state of Meg's clothes), but at the same time I wanted to cry for the pain our baby must've been going through.
We finally got her (and Megan) cleaned up again, got everything else washed and everyone was able to settle down and sleep. Now, though, I'll forever have nightmares of the atrocities she's capable of...