A while back, I had a brother who was hospitalized. He made light of the serious situation and described to me the aftermath of being extremely dehydrated. The nurses wanted to know when he had a BM but it wasn't likely since he couldn't keep hardly anything down. Then one day he felt something "stirring" (his words). He went to the restroom and went through the painful process of "giving birth" to a "pickle".
Ofcourse, his story cracks me up whenever he retells it. I also know how horrible that is. I share this story with you now because my little girl struggles with using the bathroom. I have spent a good portion of this morning holding my daughter and comforting her while she fought the inevitable discomfort. She gasped, hiccupped, trembled and held on to me while I encouraged and loved her. It was hard for me to not cry because there was nothing I could do to help her with the pain. She had to go through the process and as her Mother, I was able to offer her emotional and literal support.
Now she's in the bathtub relaxing after her triumph. I think we need to reevaluate her diet. This girl loves her cheese. Time to start rationing. Also, this more crude life experience is a great example of allowing our children to go through experiences and not taking the consequence away but offering the love and support they need to safely pass through the experience.
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