Dirty Doula

I’m going to stray from the topic of allergies for a moment because we’ve been dealing with a delicate issue at my house for the last few weeks. It’s hard to talk about our dilemma in public because it’s something that most people like to keep private. So here goes…it’s about BM’s. And I don’t mean Big Macs or Brian Mulroney – I’m talking about poo.

My toddler Sarah has decided that she doesn’t like to poo. I’m not sure why, exactly, but she spends a lot of energy trying to hold it all in. Maybe she doesn’t like the physical feeling…or not having control over her own body. Or maybe it’s because she’s our last child and she senses that when she is toilet trained we are free and clear! At this point, I don’t really care why because I’m just plain sick of it.

It’s almost like Sarah has two distinct personalities. That’s right – I’m living with the Two Faces of Sarah: pre- and post-poop. While she’s holding in a BM she looks like the girl from The Exorcist. She drops onto the floor on her hands and knees, contorting her body in any way possible to slow that peristalsis down. Sarah doesn’t seem shy about this poop-stopping dance – she does it almost everywhere…on the floor beside the dining room table (where our dinner party guests are seated), at the top of the slide at the park, or even in the middle of the automotive aisle at Canadian Tire. It’s getting to the point that my oldest daughter, Rebecca, will say, “Mom…she’s doing it…AGAIN!!”

You can imagine that after a day of these performances, her body is really ready to get rid of this waste. So, when she finally has to give in and poo, it takes a lot of work. It’s similar to birth…Sarah gets red, sweaty and does a lot of grunting and yelling. That would make me the doula, because she chooses to do it all when she’s sitting on my lap. Not quite the pretty picture of motherhood that you see on the formula cans, is it?

Ah…but when the deed is finally done Sarah is herself again - dancing to Hannah Montana, playing hide-and-seek with her brother and sister, and singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Tar”. I’m hoping in a few weeks this lovely stage will be over. For now, I’ll just add doula to my ever-growing lists of motherly duties.