Our baby boy was not pooping regularly since leaving the hospital and his black tarry merconium poops behind. We were worried. He didn't seem to be the happy little guy we were accustomed to, but being first time parents, we had no experience but plenty of advice from books and doctors and family and friends, some of it helpful and some of it not so much.
Luckily, we discovered that he was a lazy feeder and that we were finishing his meals too soon. So we let him graze at his leisure and then came the gas grimaces and the sounds of baby tootings, worrying that something was wrong with his gastrointestinal system. And then finally, after a crying night of sleeplessness and his griping tummy and grimacing face, he pooped. All over himself. And we were very relieved and happy, so much so that we broke into tears and laughter.
Now, Merrick is a pooping machine.
I vaguely remember what a full eight hours of sleep used to feel like.
