Tuesday, December 28, 2010


I feel like we may be stuck in the middle of the most disgusting sandwich ever created. Beyond any liverwurst and swiss cheese your grandma tried to shove down your throat, more filthy than your dad's sandwich creations, our life has become a poop sandwich.

Our first born child, Harper, was born December 17th, 2010. For more information see my wife's facebook note: http://www.facebook.com/notes/cassandra-clarke-black/the-birth-and-life-of-harper-kendall-blackso-far-this-is-very-detailed-so-there-/10150105065405860. Here's a sample to suck you in:

 "Without any doubt in my being that was the hardest thing I had ever done, but by trusting my God, my body that he created, and my amazing midwife my beautiful son was born and I was able to experience the curse that God gave women because of the fall of man. So humbled and empowered at the same time, I wanted to weep and praise God for everything I had but didn't deserve."

Harper was born with Imperforate Anus, a fancy medical term meaning his poop had no way out. Our doctor's prepared us and Harper and took him into surgery to install a colostomy bag. For those of you who may not know what a colostomy bag is, let me explain. The surgeon went in to Harper's lower bowels and cut them in half, bringing both halves through the skin on his side. He will continue to eat normally and digest food and the food will be pooped out through his side (colostomy) and into his bag. You've probably learned more than you ever desired to know.

As if it wasn't difficult enough to change my first diaper ever or be a father for the first time, now I have a medical condition to deal with. But we've never backed down from a challenge and this wouldn't be the first time.

When we got home, Cassie was looking up websites about colostomy bags on infants so we could learn as much as we could. I glanced over at one point and read a line that made me laugh and roll my eyes: "For parents who's lives are dictated by bowels".

Dictated by bowels? HA! I was not about to allow a child to run my house, and especially not his poo!
Little did I know...

Before Harper's birth, my day was planned around my mornings. Religiously I would go by the same schedule every day.

6:00 Wake Up
6:05 Take the dog out
6:10 Make coffee and start bacon
6:20 Read Bible while bacon cooks
6:45 Drain bacon and start eggs
7:00 Finish reading and eat breakfast
7:30 Shower and get ready for work

Now, it seems like everything revolves around his nose-hair burning stool. For example, Sunday morning looked more like:

7:00 Wake up and Change poop bag
7:25 Take the dog out
7:35 Make coffee and start breakfast
7:40 Read Bible
7:55 Drain poop from bag
8:15 Eat breakfast
8:45 Get ready for Church
9:30 Drain bag again
10:00 Arrive at church

Now, most babies don't fill their bags as often as that and I will admit, Sunday was not the norm. He seemed to have eaten extra well Saturday night/Sunday morning. But that kid does poop. A lot. And when he does it smells infinitely worse than any dirty diaper you've been exposed to. If you don't believe me, I insist you come and change the next one. It would be my pleasure.

And thanks to my unbelievably adorable son, I now am wedged into a poop sandwich. My life is effectively "poop-God-poop". And I think that's exactly where God wants me to be, wedged right between my son's crap.

The best part of it all? Through the pregnancy, the delivery, the surgery, and the frequent bag changing, God has been there. And He'll be there for the next surgery and everything in between. Which is just what we need.

God is with us, sandwiched between our baby poop, smiling, crying, and gagging along with us.
And its the best sandwich ever.

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