Let’s talk about poop. More specifically, let’s talk about chronic constipation, the lies doctors tell about “slow clean outs”, and how I ended up elbows-deep in the kind of disaster that haunts baby monitors.

So our son Ryder has struggled with chronic constipation since day one. We tried every trick in the book — old wives’ tales, weird mom forum advice, and one-off tips from strangers at Target. Nothing worked. Our poor little guy was miserable and would scream in pain anytime he tried to go. It was heartbreaking.

Our pediatrician prescribed Miralax, and we tried it for a few months while waiting (forever) to get in with a pediatric GI specialist. Apparently every other child in the state also needed this doctor because the wait was 6–8 months.

Thankfully, we caught a last-minute cancellation and got in early (praise be).

🧪 Enter: “The Slow Clean Out”

The GI doctor told us to double his Miralax dose in his bottle. There were two issues:

1. Doubling it did nothing.
2. Sometimes it made Ryder vomit.

So we called back. She recommended something stronger: a medicine called lactulose. She reassured us that we’d start with a “slow clean out.”
I now know that her version of “slow” and my version of “slow” are not the same.

That night, we gave Ryder the starter dose — a tiny 1/8th of what he’d eventually be taking — and tucked the boys into bed in their zip-up jammies. It was summer, so I was home from teaching, and both boys were home with me full-time.

🚨 What Happened the Next Morning Was… a Lot

My husband went off to work, and I got up, poured a cup of coffee, and waited for the boys to wake up. As I walked down the hall, the smell hit me like a wall.

I was not ready.

I opened their bedroom door and immediately realized we had entered a whole new era of parenting.

Let me just say this: there was poop.
Poop in Ryder’s hair.
Poop on the crib rails.
Poop on the sheets.
Poop on the wall?!
It. Was. Everywhere.

Ryder looked up at me with wide, panicked eyes like even he didn’t understand how it got this bad.

I gently set his poop-covered little self back into the crib (because I was 100% unprepared) and sprinted to the kitchen like I was assembling a hazmat crew.

🧤 Operation Containment: The Step-by-Step Breakdown

1. Grabbed a giant trash bag, yellow rubber gloves, a full roll of paper towels, and a brand-new pack of wipes.
2. Turned on the tub water (not stopping it — this was a rinse, not a soak).
3. Found a cup to splash-clean my poop-covered child.
4. Left the other twin safely in his crib with books, toys, and a pacifier (because I could NOT deal with two mobile babies).
5. Carried Ryder to the bathroom like he was an unstable bomb.
6. Attempted to unzip his poop-jammies without making it worse (it got worse).
7. Tossed the jammies into the trash without hesitation.
8. Rinsed off the baby as fast as I could while holding him over the slow-draining tub like some kind of Olympic squat.
9. Gave both boys actual baths in the other tub.
10. Cried.

And once the chaos was cleaned up (temporarily), I:

• Called my husband and told him the saga in dramatic detail
• Called the doctor’s office and politely asked WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HECK was going on
• Prayed nap time would not bring round two

Spoiler: It did.
And so did the next morning.

Repeat previous morning routine.

🍼 Lessons Learned:

“Slow clean out” = boldfaced lie

Zip-up jammies are your friend in a poop emergency

Lactulose works. Oh boy, does it work.

I can now clean up biohazards with one hand and no gag reflex

And most importantly: parenting is messy — but we survive it anyway