Much to my great frustration, I’ve had to start giving Eli some formula because I cannot keep up with his demand while pumping. It’s not something I’m thrilled about, especially due to the diaper situation that follows. I mean, it’s not like dirty diapers ever smell like roses, but there’s a notable difference between only breast milk and breast milk and formula. Not a pleasant difference.
In unrelated news (we’ll get to why these 2 stories work together later), my husband and I have both come down with a stomach virus. So far the baby seems fine, which is good because I don’t know that I can manage all 3 of us having this. And it is at the intersection of these two things that the problem arose.
I picked the baby up out of his swing this morning after pumping to go wake up my napping husband (per his request). And when I got upstairs, I thought I noticed a bit of a funk. I didn’t think too much about it at first, but it just wasn’t going away. And it was then that I had the oh, duh, I’m holding a baby moment, perhaps I should check his diaper.
And without thinking twice, I did what I always do, I smelled him. I prefer this method to the peeking method because I cannot seem to peek into a diaper without sticking my finger into it and yea, that’s crazy gross. So I smelled. Which normally is not a big issue except…
The combination of the smell of that diaper thanks to the formula, plus my already horribly unsettled stomach? NOT GOOD. It took about all my self control not to hurl all over my already fussy because he had a dirty diaper baby. But a lesson was learned. The next time I’m not feeling well and I’m unsure about the contents of a diaper, I’ll just change it. Because at least my nose is a solid 12 inches away on the changing table.