How to Get Your Constipated Baby to Take a Crap

While in Mexico over Christmas vacation, I had the good fortune of discovering not jut one, but TWO ways to get your constipated baby to poop. Lucky me.

We left for Mexico on a Sunday, and by Thursday we realized that we hadn’t even cracked open the huge box of wipes that we brought with us. Maybe it was the large quantities of quesadillas and guacamole I was consuming, but it was clear that Nakita was plugged up more than a toilet after Kaiden’s visited it for one of his massive man-poops. She seemed fussier than usual. And her farts really smelled.

So on Friday, New Year’s Eve, myself, Siig and my sister Julie walk into town for a double mission: prune juice and pinatas. (I wonder if we are the first people on the planet to go in search of those two items on the same day?) After a long walk into town and a stop at a couple of small markets, we find success in a supermercado. Prune juice and candy for the pinata, purchased. Next, we make our way down Pinata Alley, where the locals have set up small pinata factories in their houses and storefronts. We buy a large pink and purple one for the girls, and a red and gold one for the boys.

We take a taxi back to the house where we are staying with 20 members of my family. (What’s that you say? That doesn’t sound like much of a vacation???) The kids are getting out of the pool to get ready for the Mariachi Band that is coming soon. Kaya goes running into the house before I call her back to dry off and wrap up in a towel so she won’t slip. Then, in what must be one of the biggest cases of irony in the known world, she scampers up the stairs wrapped up tight in a large towel, trips over it, and then can’t brace herself because her arms are trapped inside, and falls straight onto the stone stairs on her chin. I don’t feel horrible or anything.

She screams as only a wounded child can do, I see large drops of blood dripping from her chin, and take one look at the cut, feel sick to my stomach, and know that a trip to the Mexican ER has become our plans for New Years Eve. Oh joy! Of course, where I go so must the baby, so the four of us (me, Siig, Kaya, and Nakita) hop into the car and head for the hospital. Kaya is unusually calm in the car ride. Is she in shock? How can I bottle this and get her to act like this at home?

Overall, I am pleasantly surprised by the hospital. We are seen right away, which would never happen at home. The doctor looks at Kaya’s chin and says, yup, she needs 3 stitches. The worst part is the anesthetic injection. I hold Kaya’s hand not because she needs the support but because I feel like I am going to start crying. And wouldn’t you know it, while I am holding her hand and trying to put on a brave face, Nakita pukes all over herself, and me, and the hospital floor. So much for sterility. I have no hands to clean up because one is with Kaya and the other is holding the baby, so I sit there with puke everywhere, trying to breathe slowly and go to my happy place. Which would be Mexico. But not in the ER watching my daughter get stitched up while another vomits her lunch on me.

Finally, Kaya is all stitched up, we pay the bill ($150 for everything! I highly recommend falling in Mexico rather than in the U.S.), and we get back in the car. We stop at the pharmacy to buy some medication, and that’s when Nakita decides to become unconstipated – I hear a sound like a volcano erupting, shit goes flying everywhere, and a putrid smell fills the car. The baby looks relieved, but I am horrified – I am now covered in puke AND crap. And so is the baby. Of course, as Murphy’s Law would have it, I ran out of the house without bringing the diaper bag. C’est la vie.

When we get back to the house, all 20 family members want to hear the story about the hospital, and I have to fight through the crowd to get to my room to get out of my clothes and take a shower, and strip Nakita down. To add insult to injury, while Siig and I and the baby are getting cleaned up and ready for the night’s festivities, the rest of the family decides to have their Pinata Party without us. So we never even got to see the kids hit the pinatas that we worked so hard to track down and buy. Just kick me while I’m down, why don’t ya!

So the moral of the story is this – if your baby is constipated, all you need to do is BUY prune juice. You don’t even need to give it to her. And take a visit to an ER. Just don’t bring your diaper bag.