I think it's time. I've been berating our new 'Members of the Month' for their embarrassing Mom story, and it's probably only fair that I share mine as well.
Where to begin?
Town Lake, its a Monday. It's a bit overcast, but still quite warm. It's June, I am 12ish weeks postpartum from baby #2, and I am back on the trails. I am wearing a navy v-neck Trotting with Tots shirt, a way too small sports bra, and a pair of shorts that are a bit too snug still, but that's why I'm out on the trail, right?
I arrive in the parking lot that lovely morning, eager to try my youngest in the stroller without the carseat adaptor (if you met her, at 3 months she could handle it--don't judge me just yet---keep reading). Before heading out on our run, I change my daughter one last time, grab some water for myself and my son (the 'drink' for my daughter is supplied by yours truly), and throw in some random toys for entertainment purposes.
Naturally, EXACTLY halfway around the 3.5 mile loop my daughter starts 'complaining.' I'd actually never heard her quite this startled before, so I assumed that a bump had jolted her awake and she was confused about where she was. I pull the stroller off to the side of the trail and put on the brakes. As I walk around to the front of the stroller I smell an extremely familiar (unfortunately) odor, and I know instantly that a class 5 "disaster poo" has occurred. I begin to access the situation, moving my daughter around just enough to see the blowout of all blowouts, and that's when it hits me... I left the entire diaper bag in the Jeep. I have no spare diaper, no wipes, nothing. And then IT starts to ooze. The lovely, yellow, seedy poop is running up her leg (even gravity was against me that day) and about to trickle off the end of the stroller. Please, please, please... this CANNOT be happening.
So what do I do? Well, what any mother would do, right? I take off my shirt and use it as a diaper. GASP. And for the record, even before having any kids, I would never ever have dared to run without a shirt. And now, here I am, 12 weeks postpartum with a very friendly belly---meaning it legit waves at you when I move---and porn boobs exposed for all the Austin fitness junkies to see. I did not remove the existing diaper, afraid of what more was to seep out, but rather just packaged up all the goodies and tied a nice, sturdy knot to ensure the added absorption stay put.
Not knowing what to do exactly, I waited (and attempted to hide) for a few minutes for someone, anyone with a kid to pass. Where were all the stroller-toting parents today?! And then, there he was, like a knight in shining armor, a bearded man with a BOB stroller and a little girl who had clearly been potty trained for several years. I didn't care. Seeing a fellow stroller-toting jogger, I had to ask for help. Lucky for me, he had one super scratchy McDonalds napkin in the bottom of his stroller, and he was more than happy/terrified to give it to me. I did the best I could with la napkin which was mainly used to dry things after dumping my water bottle on my daughters legs and cleaning my own hands.
Side note: you must be thinking 'why didn't she stop at a nearby bathroom?' Awesome for me, they were being built still, and the ones near the MoPac pedestrian bridge had problems with their water supply that day. Rock on.
Needless to say, that was the fastest postpartum 1.5 miles I have ran to date. Again, rock on.
Humiliated? indeed. Learned a lesson? One I can't forget soon enough. Can I laugh about it now? Almost. Do I still have that 'diaper?' You bet! It's washed and ready for the baby album.