I have gone through one of the most traumatic experiences ever tonight. It is unlikely that anything now can ever affect me so adversely, I have been scarred for life. All of my senses have been tossed up into the air only to rain down in shreds. I am still in shock over what happened because, folks, tonight, I did something I will never forget. Tonight, I changed a baby’s diaper.
I had always sworn I wouldn’t ever touch my niece’s poo, no matter what the circumstances may be, but tonight, I was forced to break that oath. It was all a huge conspiracy, it must’ve been, for nothing else would have compeeled me to perform an act so horrendous. No one was home, except for me and the little teeny bopper. She hasn’t been pooping much recently so I wasn’t too worried about changing diapers. Anyways, if anything happened, her mother would be home soon. Or so I had naively thought!
Thirty minutes went by peacefully without incident. The little one was asleep, but waking up every now and then to stretch and yawn, as usual. Out of nowhere, I heard what sounded like a succession of farts. I looked at the little one in horror, and she opened her eyes and looked at me right back, as if saying “UH OH, Busted!” My heart rate increased as she let out another few plops, and I winced as I heard each of them distinctly. She looked at me slyly out of the corner of her eye, as I tried to avoid her gaze, telling myself I had just imagined it and there was no poop anywhere at all.
But, alas, the tell-tale stench of her poop wafted through the air, soaring out of her diaper and straight into my nostrils. I panicked. She started to scrunch up her face, the way she does when she wants to be washed and cleaned up, and let out a series of a few more loud plops. Looking left and right, I hopelessly searched for something to distract her with, but nothing would pacify the teeny bopper. Finally, I decided to pick her up and walk around a bit so she would quiet down.
Just as I started to settle her on my shoulder, I felt something warm on my hand. It was her heavy diaper, now overflowing with stinky mustard-yellow poop. She started to cry and I, too, was tempted to sit down and wail. I was not made for this! I don’t change diapers and clean poo! I whined out loud to no one in particular for a few minutes before I huffed and puffed and decided to just get it over with. Bracing myself, I set her down on the towel and gingerly opened her diaper. Nothing in the world could have prepared for the sight. Gooey, dark yellow poop oozed out of the pamper, bubbling and spluttering, and I hastily ran to throw it away before I dropped it, for I knew I surely would if I held it any longer. My nostrils seemed to wilt, as I tried to hold my breath, preventing myself from smelling the putrid stench of the faeces.
Now was the hard part. The poor little devil had pooed so much that the matter was stuck to her botton and had to be washed out. Looking around for plastic gloves, I found none and, saying a prayer, I quickly washed her off, keeping my eyes tightly closed and breathing in as little as possible. In spite of all my precautions, the sickening smell of her poo still managed to sneak into my nose, and no matter how much I winced and shook my head, the yellow stuff still overcame me. It wafted up my nose and made its way to the throat, inducing me to swallow my own spit a few times so that I wouldn’t throw up.
While I suffered in misery, the little one started giggling and making baby noises, probably snickering at my ineptitude. While I controlled my own tears of anguish and horror, the little one’s tears had completely dried up and she now seemed to relax and become playful. Hmph. I set her down and put on a new clean diaper and ran to thewashroom and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed my hands with the soap until I could feel my fingers pruning up with excess water. I sniffed my fingers to check if they were free of the poo smell, and scrunched up myface in disgust. It was still there.
It was a truly Lady Macbeth moment, and it was all I could do to curse and wonder if all the perfumes of Arabia would even be enough to get rid of the smell. I wanted to scream an shout and cry at the same time. But before I coul do either of the three, I heard a wail emerge of the room next door. It was teeny bopper. I scrubbed my hands twice again before going to quiet her down.
I know you must be wondering, what will she do when she has a baby of her own and has to clean it’s poo? And to that, I readily retaliate: well, whatever are nannies and mothers-in-law for?