Page 66 of Courageous Yearnings

18

Nearly one year later…

“UGHHHHH – What is that smell? Wait a second… Buddy?! Are you all right? You had milk, dude? Why is that…”

She heard Lance gag.

The sound of a racking cough followed by moaning echoed down the hallway from the baby’s room, followed by an unholy squawk – and yet another gag.

And two seconds later?

“Boop? Something’s wrong with Christopher,” Lance’s voice was rising to hysterics from the other room, and Blythe was trying not to laugh because her C-section scar was still bothering her, and sometimes she would get this weird ‘pull’ on her side, like a muscle pulling deep inside her stomach. The doctor said it was normal, and while she might be healed on the outside, on the inside, she was still recovering from surgery.

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s not right…”

She rolled her eyes.

“What’s not right? Can you tell me what’s wrong or bring Christopher in here?”

“No? Boop, I know you are sore, but I think I need help. I’m in over my head, babe, and he’s… he’s leaking,” the sheer confusion followed by a horrified yelp from her husband, chased by a wail from a tiny baby was both funny and terrifying at the same time. “Oh my gosh, what in the heck is… staaaahp!”

Lance made more gagging sounds.

“Buddy, your belly… Blythe? Oh my gosh, honey, I really need help back here. I’ve seen all sorts of things on my shift, but I ain’t never seen green diarrhea before. My squishy-baby-buddy is broken. Oh mannnn, he’s leaking poo that’s the wrong color, and it’s everywhere! Blytheeee?? No, wait! Hold on, buddy! Daddy is getting Mama…”

Blythe was guffawing so hard and sobbing while clutching her stomach and leaning against the hallway just outside of the baby’s room. The sight of her husband sitting on the carpet, with no less than five receiving blankets spread out on the floor to protect it, was utterly hysterical and combined with his words?

She was going to disgrace herself if he didn’t stop.

“Blythe – oh my gosh – honey, why is he pooping green and yellow? Oh no! He’s making the purple face again. FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

“Lance… stop…” she gasped, clutching her stomach and laughing painfully.

“But he can’t stop!?”

“Put a diaper on him.”

“It’s everywhere. I mean, I’ve seen childbirth, dead bodies, charred remains, and I’ve never seen a slurry like this…”

“S-Slurry…?” she was roaring and snorting, tears running unchecked down her face while her husband was glaring at her.

“This is not funny. Can you call 9-1-1?”

“You… do… it…” she gasped, laughing.

That stopped Lance in his tracks as he looked at her and arched an eyebrow, narrowly dodging a small gaseous explosion that terrified the thirty-year-old man. He ducked down like a soldier in trench warfare, waiting for a grenade to land in his direction.

“You’re not panicking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Do we have any corks?”

“You are not… oh my gosh,” Blythe chuckled, kneeling painfully next to her precious baby, who was grunting and turning purple again. “You are not corking our son.”

“Prepare for fire!” – and her husband ducked again, holding up yet another receiving blanket in front of his face. It was going to be a long learning period as new parents apparently.

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