My husband and I were trying to do something fun tonight. Our son has been sick all week with a stomach bug, and today is the first day he is feeling better. It’s been a long week of sleepless nights, fevers and, yes, diarrhea (sorry). And when my son gets diarrhea, he always gets a diaper rash. No, not the diaper rash you treat with Desitin; the kind that requires steroid cream and antifungals–the real deal. The kind that hurts so bad with every subsequent bowel movement that he screams bloody murder throughout the diaper change. The kind that makes you feel like a horrible mom as you have to put him through another change because only you understand that allowing him to sit in poop will only make his rash worse.
I’m sorry that you were here to witness one of these changes. I’m sorry that you had to hear my son scream like I was abusing him. This bathroom, unfortunately, is not equipped with a changing table, and so I had to lay my son on a changing mat on the bathroom floor in the handicap stall. I already feel like the worst mom ever for doing that!
And then when the screaming began as I wiped his little butsey clean, even though I purchased the natural wipes so they wouldn’t burn, I’m sorry I disrupted you. And I am sorry that you had to wait a little longer to use the restroom. My son refused to stay down and proceeded to get up and run around the stall to escape from me trying to clean him. To you, I am sure it looked like I had no idea what I was doing, but I am a mom. I was doing the best I could to take care of my son. I was refusing to throw him the car for a 20-minute car ride home only to allow his poop to continue to irritate his rash and burn his skin. I was being strong and putting myself in a painful and terrible situation only to help him. This is motherhood!
I don’t know if you are a mom. I doubt it by the look you gave me as I left the stall. And when I profusely apologized for the screaming and tried to explain that my son had a horrific diaper rash, I did not appreciate the look of disgust and reply of, “Oh, I heard!”
As I left the bathroom, tears filled my eyes, and I ran to my husband telling him we needed to leave immediately. Shame on you for not having any compassion or understanding for another woman or mother in need. And shame on me for letting it ruin my night.
A Great Mom