Poor Will. Brave Will. Will the good sport. He has become the champion of diapers. It seems an almost tacit agreement that since I’m entirely responsible for Stella’s dining experience (Input), that he will take the other end (Output). It’s so sweet considering prior to Friday he had never held a newborn much less changed a diaper. In fact, he had suffered some pretty high anxiety about it. Watching him (and it was absolutely immediate), you’d never, ever know that.
I guess it’s normal, but dear god newborns poo a whole lot. It’s not so much the quantity but the frequency that is astonishing. And we have discussed with family and friends the fact that different kiddos have different tolerances for marinating in their own soiled diapers. Unfortunately (or maybe it’s fortunately as we get later into life), ours has ZERO tolerance. It’s almost something out of the Three Stooges or Abbott and Costello. Will will change her. She gets very agitated. We put her to the feed trough (i.e me). She eats a while. Within minutes, she poos again. There was one diaper that didn’t even last long enough to go from changing pad to my boob. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was doing it on purpose. Sometimes, all you really can do is laugh, but at 3 AM when you are just salivating for even a 10 minute nap, it’s not quite as funny as it is during daylight hours.
She also has this uncanny sense of timing as far as her liquid outputting goes, in that she often chooses to hit the “fire” button during diaper changes. So far, she’s gotten us all. Several times. It’s really a good thing these newborns are so damned cute!!!