Scared of poop

I am unsure of how I will continue. This concern is not existential. It is far less principled. I am now afraid of poop. The meconium out if her system, my once lovely daughter now exudes a material that I can only explain as toxic.

Yesterday, my sister adoringly cradled Mads when a sound not unlike the sound an empty mustard bottle makes when trying to make a sandwich. Kristin cooed. Cooed, I tell you. She asked if she could change the baby. I assented. Quickly. Kristin then began the process of changing Madeline. While removing the dirty diaper, Madeline decided to exude the final contents if her stomach. I saw that happen. I am scared.

So, later last night, when Madeline defecated again, I took on the task of changing her. With reluctance. So, I armed myself. Medical gloves in hand, pun intended, I donned my kayak helmet, complete with nose plugs.

I win.