I had my first horrible poop diaper moment before ever leaving the hospital. The black tarry stool should be described in all parenting books. I read my fair share of the mother-to-be books and never once heard of the first stool being black.
I was leaving the hospital with my new baby boy that day. Having suffered a hard labor and almost dying I was excited to be going home and introducing my son to the family.
While I was packing our things I smelled that wonderful smell. I had never changed a diaper before but I was confident enough to change him on my own.
That was before I opened the diaper. My son’s bottom was completely black. I turned on the light in an effort to prove to myself that I was seeing things; it didn’t work.
I grabbed the wipes and wrapped one around my hand. As I took my first swipe across his bottom I noticed that the stool was more like tar than it was poop. I had never seen black stool before and couldn’t fathom that this was in any way normal.
I started crying and pressed the faithful red nurse button that hung nearby on the wall. Four nurses arrived in seconds to find me crying and pointing at my son. I tried to ask, ‘What is wrong with him?’ They couldn’t understand me through all my sobbing.
One nurse would sit me down on the bed, and then they all started to laugh. They explained that someone should have told me that I had to get a nurse to check the first stool. They continued to explain that the first passing is often black in color and extremely tarry like, as well as extremely hard to clean properly.
While nurses laughed and joked I was mortified. How could I have missed that class? I took seven months of parenting classes and read every book on motherhood I could find. I never once heard of the black tarry stool.
I sat on the bed to await the arrival of my mother. She would be arriving around noon that day to take my son and I home. As we exited the main door of the hospital we passed by the picnic tables where the nurses and doctors were having their lunch.
I was ashamed of my non-existent poop knowledge when I heard two of the nurses who had been in my room telling my doctor how I thought there was something wrong with my son. I couldn’t wait to get home, and I never did tell my mother what had happened that morning.
