Yes, you read the title correctly. It was THAT memorable for me. I knew from the beginning poop was part of the equation of having a baby, but there’s nothing quite like the first “up the back” poop explosion. Let’s just say I learned to never ignore the smell of poop, no matter how inconvenient the diaper change may be. I promise, it will pale in comparison to how inconvenient the blowout mess will be later on.
Like all good blowout stories, we were out in public. Matt and I were at Guitar Center, and for anyone married to a musician, you know this outing can take forever. We had only been there a few moments when I got the first whiff. I checked the bathroom situation and found there was no changing table. I decided to wait it out because she didn’t seem bothered.
Bellamy has always been a constipated baby producing small, harder amounts of poop. She does not have regular bowel movements, so as soon as she was old enough, we started introducing Karo syrup into her diet, as recommended by her pediatrician. Days went by with little improvement, and I was about to give up on the syrup. When she pooped at Guitar Center, I assumed it was her regular style and could wait. But the smell started to make me feel self-conscious, and once I finally excused myself to do a backseat car change, I realized the Karo had officially kicked in.
I went to remove Bellamy’s jacket when I noticed her shirt had turned a beautiful shade of mustard. I, being the naive mom to a non-pooper, took a minute to catch up as to what was actually happening. Then the smell hit me. THE SMELL. I had closed the door to create as much privacy as possible, and the enclosed stench made my eyes water. I was gasping for air only to gag when I thought about breathing it in through my mouth. Bellamy was struggling to balance on the backseat without hitting her head on the car seat base or seatbelt and started to scream and cry. It was total mess and attracted lots of attention from the flood of guys walking in and out of the store.
As I attempted to open her diaper and start wiping up the mess, I realize it’s all over the seat (what blowouts do!). I start to panic because I didn’t know what to clean first! I didn’t know where to wipe! I noticed I only had about 15-20 wipes left, and I start parent shaming myself for getting into such an unprepared situation. I start with the seat since we were in Matt’s car, and no one wants to smell poop forever. I was somehow able to wipe up what felt like the entirety of poop in the world with only a handful of wipes. Thankfully Bellamy had a zip-up jacket available as a shirt, or else she would have been a cold, naked baby!
You should have seen the open faced diaper with mounds of yellow, foul-smelling poop and poopy wipes on top I carried to the trash can that was conveniently very far away. I caught the eye of many passersby and could feel their disgust as they put two and two together. Once it was all over, I walked back inside exasperated and sweaty. All I wanted to do was shout, “Matt! You would not BELIEVE Bellamy’s poop I just cleaned up! She isn’t even wearing a shirt it was so bad!” But I had to keep it to myself until we were alone again, and I don’t think he quite got it. No one can understand the gravity of the first blowout until it happens to you. Learn from my mistakes friends—bring wipes, and then bring more than you originally packed. And if you resort to the Karo syrup, just know what is waiting for you!