two weeks went by.


we were now in the middle of august. 

my only task, for her health, was to obtain a stool sample. 

i promise i won’t go into details regarding her poopers, but they have never been your “typical” infant stools. 

they’ve been super greasy, oily and plentiful. 


wait. 

was that too much detail?


for real though, these things were like 10 times a day, plentiful. so, taking this sample was super difficult to scrape and secure into the sterile vile because they literally soaked right into the diaper within minutes. 

finally, i was able to secure one and drop it off at the not so very friendly lab. little miss-19-year-old was ever so pleasantly informing me i didn’t have enough sample for them to test. 

oh but I do, miss. momma has done this before.

but I digress… 

off to the pool we went without thinking twice about this stool sample. 


it’s routine… right? 

two mornings later, i see the dreaded number show up in my caller id. 

ya know that sound as you’re watching a character on tv? it’s like a “whoosh” and then they get the bad news? 

or maybe it was just the sound of me being punched in the stomach…



i hear dr M’s voice on the other side of the phone: 

“….yes. we got the fecal elastase results back. …baby m is lacking the necessary enzymes for nutrient absorption. she’s pancreatic insufficient…will need enzyme therapy. i will call your husband and explain to him, as well. and we’ll schedule you to come in tomorrow.”

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