Anyone who knows me knows that I have a rather weak stomach. It's the reason I ultimately decided not to go into nursing. And it was definitely a factor in never wanting kids. An old pastor joked that I was not a fan of the “5 P's”; poop, pee, puke, puss and phlegm. And that is so very true, with one exception.
My daughter. I have had diapers explode in my lap, have been peed on, lost count of the times I've been spit up on, and just last week, was, once again, a human Kleenex. Not a gag, not a wretch. I am, thus far, immune to the bodily functions of my baby.
I always thought people who told me that when I had my own kid I'd be just fine with all this stuff were liars. I thought there was no way that I would be able to handle the messes associated with a baby. I'm not sure how it works, but it's true. The smells, messes etc. just don't faze me. Everything else that makes me nauseous still does though. Go figure.
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