[Baby and toddler constipation] The Poo Diaries Part 2: Flush

Now this may seem like a blindingly obvious step to take, but it’s one that took me a while to fully comprehend and accept. It’s not enough to simply numb the pain of a broken leg and give the patient crutches. You must realign the bone and put a cast on it before crutches will be of any real use. What I’m eluding to here is: We had to get, whatever was in Evie’s gut (wreaking havoc), out before anything else would have a chance at being therapeutic. Because constipation leads to constipation leads to constipation. Allow me to explain;

Evie was constipated, so she couldn’t sleep at night.

When she didn’t sleep at night and was having gut pain, she had no patience for, or interest in, solid food.

Because she refused to eat solid food she was hungry.

Because she was hungry she would fill up on breast milk.

Because she would fill up on breast milk, she definitely wasn’t going to eat solid food.

Because she wasn’t eating solid food she wasn’t getting any fibre.

Because she wasn’t getting any fibre she was constipated.

Because she was constipated, she couldn’t sleep at night.

When she didn’t sleep at night and was having gut pain, she had no patience for, or interest in, solid food.

And so on, and so forth (not forgetting that she was also  withholding poo because it hurt), until I am pulling my hair out in hysterical, bloody clumps (I exaggerate).

SO. How did we do this? Well its different for a baby whom isn’t yet on solids than it is for a toddler or child who is. So we will proceed with how we treated this (or would, looking back and knowing what we know now)

In the land before solids

                When Evie wasn’t eating solid food yet, it was hard to believe that she could actually be constipated. She went 9 days without pooing once but in my sleepless daze I didn’t even realise that until I stopped to think and remember when the last time she went was. “They” say that breastfed babies are fine to poo as little as every 10 days – which could well be the case. They are not fine, however, if they are arching, scrunching, sleepless and screaming little bundles during this time. For these babies, of whom Evie was one, it’s not ok to poo every 10 days, clearly.

For one so young we obviously couldn’t give parachoc, coloxyl or suppositories as the issue here clearly wasn’t the consistency of the poo (breastfed = liquid), it was the fact that it was getting trapped and stalled because gut motility was sluggish and babies struggle to coordinate the muscles in order to un-trap wind and adjust to the right angle for elimination, in the way that a constipated adult with a gut ache might.

Given this, what used to work for us to release wind and poo were 4 things; homeopathics, massage, pressure and warmth. I will be forever grateful for Jimmy’s uncle, a pharmacist, who slipped a bottle of Brauer’s ‘Colic relief’ into the hamper from his family at my baby shower. This stuff worked wonders for Evie and I can highly recommend it.

Warmth is pretty easy and effective also. I used to just rub my palms together and place then on Evies belly, skin to skin. But you could also use a rolled up warm towel or a warm bath to apply gentle heat to the tummy to provide both an analgesic and pressure-releasing effect. 

Massage is kind of difficult to explain in writing, so I’ve attached a sweet little video here that you might find useful – the techniques shown are gold, but it doesn’t need to be so specific ie. ‘3 minutes of this’ or ’10 times of that’ – just go with what you baby will tolerate and use your instincts to tell you when it’s time to stop.

As for pressure, I would simply hug Evie into my chest, so her belly was against my boobs, with her head on my shoulder, so that the curve of my bust would apply a gentle pressure on her abdomen. I would then walk around 'bouncing' with her like this and, I kid you not, you would have thought someone was firing a machine gun at times, it was that effective at releasing wind! If Jimmy (or someone otherwise less endowed than a breast feeding mother) wanted/needed to use this technique, we would simply roll up one of her muslin wraps, place it just under their shoulder and lay Evie over it so that the wrap was under her belly (fake boobs, really!). 

One more thing, which Evie doesn’t really allow me to do very often, is baby reflexology: This is great for teething, gut ache and general well being. They say that if the baby actually needs to reflexology, the pressure point on the foot will be tender, which explains why Evie won’t allow me to do it any more! 

 Solids, infinity, and beyond  
                I have found that flushing out my toddler’s gut is easier than doing the same for a baby in many ways, but also harder at the same time. The reason being that there are many a product available for short term, immediate or emergency use for evacuating the bowel – but the price you pay is the mother-guilt of using, administering, and subjecting your child to the taste of, these western pharmaceutical interventions. I love a natural prevention cure or answer, believe me, I do. But sometimes I believe that modern problems require modern solutions – which I will elaborate on later. But it would be great to be able to tip toe around a finicky elimination diet for months with a smile on my sleepless, frazzled face. But I can’t do that – because this life, this world, won’t slow down so I can take the scenic route. And I could not, and would not, watch my daughter suffer and squirm for a minute longer than she needed to and I won’t apologise for that. Enter ‘Parachoc’ and/or glycerin suppositories.

As mentioned previously, it would be very difficult to heal the cause of this particular issue without first treating the symptoms that play a massive role in continuing and feeding such a vicious cycle. I found that we needed to dispel the irritant that was causing pain, discomfort, lack of sleep and refusal of food so that we could fast track to an au-naturale avenue of treatment and maintenance. So – we did try glycerine suppositories, to no avail. I was adamant not to use parachoc for the reasons previously listed but then I had to talk some sense into myself. We were not going to use it for a year, or even a week. We gave 3 “flush” doses over 36 hours, as advised by our pharmacist, and that was it. Once we had given the Parachoc we could move forward.
My only advice here (until now I would like to think I have just been telling our story, what worked for us) would be; don’t be afraid of taking what you might consider to be “drastic” intervention. I think sometimes, particularly in natural parenting circles, we deny our children modern intervention for what we believe in the greater good – but we don’t consider that we wouldn’t necessarily deny ourselves with the same stubbornness. I know if I’ve had a headache that’s not going away – I will take panadol. But I will go to the ends of the earth to avoid doing similar for my daughter, for fear that the side effects aren’t worth the relief. I guess it’s about finding a happy medium that makes sense, and sits right with you and your family. 

[Baby and Toddler constipation] The Poo Diaries Part 1: Our story

         My daughter was not born constipated. I know this, because she aspirated meconium during her birth. So there was, in fact a time in her life that she was actually able to eliminate without assistance. Albeit brief and ever so fleeting – that time did exist. 
My beautiful girl spent the first 6 days of her life in the neonatal unit being treated, firstly for the aspiration, and then for jaundice. Somewhere in the middle of those 6 days she was allowed to come back to our room to stay with is, but she needed to sleep on, and spend as much time as possible on, a biliblanket to treat the jaundice. I was so happy to finally have my baby to myself that I spent the next 12 hours pacing our room with my squirmy bundle, ignoring the pain of fresh stitches, the aching bruises and my violently contracting uterus, in order to continually help her get back to sleep. “If you’re struggling you can send her back down stairs, it’s no problem at all” the midwives kept telling me. “Maybe not a problem for YOU! But I’ve just got her back and I’m not ‘sending’ her anywhere!” I thought silently and ever-so bitterly back to them. You see, I knew she wasn’t hungry because she was on a 3 hourly feeding schedule (medically prescribed) that would see me almost force feeding her a ‘top up’ of expressed breast milk after 20 minutes on each boob! In any case she would scream at the breast and refuse to latch on unless she was good and ready. And it didnt seem like pain, as she was so easily soothed by physical contact. It was somewhere in between the two, my instincts told me. It was discomfort. She reminded me of one of those dolls who’s eyelids have weights in them so they close when placed horizontally, and open automatically when held up vertically. Only, she was the reverse. As soon as I tried to lay her down her eyes would pop right open, followed by her mouth to let out her screams of protest, that incidentally cut into my chest like a hot knife to butter.
Alas, I didn’t know any better. This was my first baby and I assumed that maybe this is what babies do. This is what all of those parents harp on about, the sleeplessness, the lack of answers and the feelings of guilt and self-doubt. That was until later that night, or possibly at about 3am the next morning. We were being looked after by a midwife on the night shift that I didn’t particularly like. She scolded me for nursing Evie sitting up in bed, and made me move to a chair next to the bed to do the exact same thing, although with slightly more pressure on my bruising and stitches. She heard Evie’s cries and came bursting through the door “Is everything alright?”  “Yes.” I told her. “She’s been like this all day. I just think she hates sleeping on that blue blanket, I can’t seem to get her to stay there, or stay asleep!” my voice was definitely quivering at this point. She smiled smugly and put her hands out, motioning for me to hand the baby over “Its sounds like trapped wind to me. When was the last time she pood?” “I don’t know.” I told her, honestly. “She’s been downstairs until today and the nurses have changed some of her nappies”. She nodded with a look on her face that told me it didn’t matter what I said, she already knew what the problem was and she also knew how to fix it. She then proceeded to lay my  still-screaming bundle down on the bed, stripped off her nappy and clothes and began to massage her tummy with a pressure that made us, as new parents, wince. She bent her little knees into her chest a few times, and then massaged a bit more, in a clockwise direction, finally stopping to pause on the lower right quadrant of Evie’s belly and pressing down even harder.  I could barely watch and had to choke back furious questions that were bubbling in my throat, ready to lash this lady. And then, all of a sudden a burst of air and poo came spraying out onto the towel so intelligently placed under Evie’s little bottom. “There” she said, handing me back my wailing little heart. “Try to nurse her now”. So, I did. Evie latched on straight away, fell asleep, and then finally slept for a good few hours after that, on that stupid blanket inside her bassinet.
The next morning, one of the neonatal nurses came to take some of Evies blood to assess how well the jaundice treatment had been going. Needless to say, the results weren’t satisfactory and we had to admit that we had been unable to keep her on the blanket for any extended period of time. This did mean that she went back downstairs to the unit where she was placed under lights for a more intensive therapy instead. It wasn’t the ideal situation. I was heartbroken, in fact. But what came of this (I’m a big believer in everything happening for a reason) was that golden massaging technique that I would end up using several times a day, every day, for the next 8 months.
Don’t be fooled – nothing changed after 8 months except for the fact that Evie no longer allowed me to massage her tummy anymore. She was fed up, and I don’t blame her. But nothing else seemed to work. We had tried homeopathics, naturopathics, chiropractic, probiotics, magnesium, elimination diets, coloxyl and infacol. We’d trawled forums and asked friends, grandparents, the child health nurse and the GP. No one had any answers for us except for “Sometimes shit happens. Or, doesn’t happen in this case, and it’s very common” (that is literally a word-for-word quote from our GP.). He told us to try parachoc and simply use it for a full year, as by then the problem should have resolved itself. I read the parachoc disclosure statement and decided that I was not desperate enough to subject my daughter to a full year of “Malabsorption of water soluble vitamins, anal leakage and itching”. So, stalemate it was.
And of course, starting Evie on solids made everything worse. And we started her early because we thought that maybe this constipation was all in our heads. Maybe she was just hungry and that’s why she couldn’t sleep and we had just let the idea that the midwife put in our heads about ‘trapped wind’ run away with us? Nope. We hadn’t. We were right, it was constipation all along (but we questioned ourselves – and everything, because that’s what good parents do!).
Months 9-14 were much the same. Only after 12 months we had the added stress of her refusal to eat anything, ever. It was fine and dandy to let her refuse meals when she was under 12 months (food before one if just for fun, after all!) but now that window had passed and we could no longer get by thinking that if we could just hang in there, this was just going to clear itself up and no damage would be done.
Exhausted and desperate, I turned to a new naturopath who educated me about antinutrients, oils and the power of fibre - all very useful and even successful for the first few days. But in our particular case, we needed more than fibre. The food Evie was having wasnt exactly absent of fibre, it just wasnt 100% fibre like the suggested meal plan. So I knew that there was more to the issue than a lack of fibre. And it certainly wasn't dehydration as my breast fed baby happily sucked back a few sippy cups full of pure water every day.
So I set off on my own, following my intuition into a land of research articles. It was these, comboned with the naturopath's wisdom that seem to have brought my daughter and her little belly to a happy place. I know that constipation is the number-one problem that toddlers present with, and that’s why I am sharing this information in the coming posts. I KNOW how hard this seemingly trivial issue can be on a family, and if sharing this knowledge can help anyone, who may not have access to the same resources, in anyway, then I am more than happy to do so.  So, stay tuned because there is a light at the end of this particular tunnel that, for once, is not a train.

To Whom It May Concern

                I am not in the business of seeking other mother’s out to judge them on their decisions to make myself feel better about my own short comings. I am in the process of figuring this mothering thing out, doing the best I can for my family based on what I know, exposing what I don’t know and sharing my experiences along the way. Motherhood is not a competition. I repeat: MOTHERHOOD IS NOT A COMPETITION. Because, to borrow some slang from my x-box addicted other half, when it comes to the tricky business of parenting, we’re all “noobs” here.
For some reason, women are so quick to jump down one another’s throats for all kinds of reasons. In my experience, when a woman says to another “This is how I do it”, the other only hears “You’re doing it wrong”. We take advice for criticism and criticism for advice. And it’s got to have something to do with the fact that we have so much emotionally invested here – it’s our children, for goodness sake. The thought that we may be doing something, anything, to their detriment is confronting, and frightening, whether we knew better at the time or not.
 I’ll give you an example: Breast milk is better for babies than formula. This is a fact, inarguable and supported by a solid scientific foundation. So, maybe if you’re armed with this information, you may be more inclined to give breast feeding a chance (if you weren’t otherwise planning on it). However, instead of taking this information for what it is: (information), women who have chosen to bottle feed assume that this is a ploy to make them “feel bad” and become hostile toward the messenger. But the fact of the matter is; I can’t make you feel anything. You decide what you feel and when you decide to feel it. What’s really going on here is that you feel guilty for not being able to breast feed (for whatever reason, it doesn’t matter at this point) and you become angry at me because you don’t like to feel guilty or sad: ignorance is bliss. You also make the assumption that I am trying to convey that I am better than you because I breast fed and you didn’t. You don’t stop to consider that I could be a terrible human being in every conceivable way except for the fact that I chose to breast feed and I’m just damn lucky that it worked out for me. You might volunteer with the homeless and I spend my spare time getting my eye brows shaped and tinted. In fact, the very fact that you even feel guilty about not being able to breast feed your child speaks wonders of your character as both a mother and a human being. You want what’s best for your baby and you feel sad when you can’t provide that 100% of the time. You have a conscience, and a heart and you love your children in the same way that I love mine.
I just wish that women would let their love for their children bring them closer together more often instead of the way it seems to continually rip them apart. I post advice and information on my Facebook page and on my blog in the genuine hope that if there is anyone out there in the same situation, who might not have tried what worked for me, that this information can reach them and provide them with some relief. Why? Because I see my daughter in the face of every child on earth, knowing that her little soul could just as easily have landed in any other family. There is no real difference between my child or anyone else’s, they are all just as worthy of love, nourishment, nurturing, happiness and respect.
My Facebook page and blog are a direct reflection of every one of my struggles as a mother, partner and human being. This is me finding my way, and nothing more.  Sometimes I am lucky enough to find answers, and I feel compelled to pass them on because I believe that blessings are like candles; if you don’t use your flame to ignite other people’s candles then there will be no fire left to reignite yours when it burns out.  What goes around comes around, and I have a duty to create a magical life for my daughter, and I can’t do that in the dark.
So I suppose my message is this: if what I’m posting offends you, consider the reason why. Science and facts are not designed to offend, only to educate. I would never judge anyone for doing the best they could with what they knew at the time. I do not, however, make any excuses for people who know better and refuse to do better. If you fall into this category then there is no place for you here.  And yes, sometimes there is no exact scientific answer. In that case, if what worked for me doesn’t work for you, that doesn’t make me wrong and you right, or vice versa – that just makes us different in that particular way. My aim here is not to be an internet troll, rather, to somehow create a virtual village where we can all support one another in the way that nature intended, but that western society does not otherwise accommodate.
Needless to say, I will not engage in nonsensical arguments with the disgruntled and I will take no responsibility for their own misinterpretation. They say that other people only ever try to bring you down because you are above them. But I think other people try to bring you down because the wounded are weak and there is strength in numbers. If this applies to you please know in advance that I’ll not be joining you in the basement, because that’s not the kind of example I want to set for my daughter.

Sincerely
Angela

Taking back Bavarian

When we were little, the ultimate in dessert luxury for us was a Sara-Lee Chocolate Bavarian (from the frozen dessert section at the supermarket). We (my 3 brothers and I) often wouldn't even allow it to defrost before hacking at it with a carving knife and chiseling away at it with our forks. It was, of course, much better if you let it defrost so it was soft and creamy. But even still, I never liked the top white layer of cream. I found it to be watery & always suffering from freezer burn. So I'd peel off the white top and eat the chocolate & biscuit layers together first (yes, I still ate the top - it resembled ice dream & I was a relatively sugar-free child!).

Anyway - now that I'm a Mum myself, I'm all too aware of the utter shit that goes into such processed delicacies and try my best to avoid them when and if I can (I'm a work in progress myself!). So I've been experimenting with all kinds of 'cheesefakes', bean cakes & gluten free-grain free etcetera. I hadn't planned on the following recipe turning out in this way... But I can't argue with its taste & texture. It it what it is. And its the closest thing to those bottom two layers of that frozen chocolate childhood memory as my taste buds have been in a very long time.  

It's not completely raw because of the maple syrup but otherwise, you're golden. And yes, maple syrup has fructose so its not sugar free - I don't care. Dessert - sweetness, even, is not intended to be an everyday indulgence, that is becoming painfully clear. Maple syrup is still better than agave, table sugar, stevia and has a lower glycemic index than honey. It's also additive, gluten & grain free as well as vegan, so over all, it's winning! 

(Mini) Chocolate Bavarian-style fake, featuring raspberries  

You will need: 

Baking paper

A 10cm round springform cake tin 

1/2 cup frozen raspberries 

1/3 cup cacao powder 

2 ripe Hass avocados

1/2 cup pure maple syrup 

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons coconut oil 

A pinch of sea salt

For the base;

1/2 cup pitted dates 

1/2 cup pecans 

How to: 

1. Line your cake tin with baking paper and set aside 

2. Blend your pecans & dates until they resemble a rough, sticky sand. Press this

Mixture into the bottom of your tin. 

3. Next, blend all of your remaining EXCEPT your raspberries, until smooth and creamy. 

4. Fold in your raspberries & pour this mix in the tin, on top of your base. 

5. Refrigerate for 2 hours (or freeze until set). 

Viola!

With love

Angela  

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