Squatty Potty

When Dave and I went to China, we were pleasantly surprised by the bathroom facilities there.  Our hotel had a typical American toilet, but in a lot of the places we went (including the train), they had squat toilets.  They basically looked like a sink with a bigger, toilet-sized drain embedded in the floor. Google it.  You'll see.  It seemed silly and was uncomfortable on a psychological level only because it wasn't a part of my norm, but the Chinese know what they are doing.  Apparently, there are benefits to being in a squatting position when using the bathroom as opposed to sitting as we do here in America.

 A few months ago, Dave got into this habit of putting Lily on the potty before he showered her.  She would sit there, holding on for dear life around his neck, but she would go potty!  This became a regular for her, so we decided to try it at different times, and again, she would go potty!  Still holding on for dear life.  It wasn't easy holding her there, waiting for her to use the bathroom.

It was time to think about equipment that would allow Lily an easier way to sit on the potty.  I mean, it couldn't be comfortable for her to sit there for five to ten minutes with her legs hanging.  But I didn't want a big piece of equipment taking up one of our bathrooms either.

Our solution?  This. . .

No hanging feet.  No holding on.  No bulky equipment.

This has changed our lives in so many ways.  First of all, when we put Lily on the potty, I'd say she uses it about 90% of the time.  Also, she can sit on this by herself.  Now I'm not going to walk away from her, but I don't have to hold her, and she doesn't have to hold on to me for dear life.  Most importantly, though, this has changed how we test for UTIs.

In the past, we've either had to cath her (which is traumatic and invasive) or bag her (which is a complete mess and takes about ten tries to just get urine in the bag).  In the past, with the bag, we've sat and sat and sat at the doctor's, waiting for her to pee.  It's all been a mess.

Until now.

Now, I just bring a cup home and get a urine sample while she sits on the potty.  I even went as far as to take the toilet seat with me to the doctor's office the other day when I suspected she had a UTI.  She didn't go, but it was worth a try.

As for the UTI, she did end up having one.  The cause?  That pleasant little bacteria, e-coli.  We had an MRI done to test for a fistula, but the results pretty much came back inconclusive.  I've yet to talk to her doctor about it, but yet another UTI with e-coli leads me to believe the fistula is the culprit.  We'll see in June how the doctor wants to handle this one.

Letting Go

I am scaling a wall. 

It is large, and it is brick, and on the other side is unknown territory.  I hate unknown territory.  It makes me worry and gives me negative thoughts and just, overall, makes me feel like a horrible person.  It reeks of everything I have no control over and covers me with fear.

Yet, I still scale this wall, compelled to get to the other side.

Imagine, your fingers holding into the cement-filled crevice between each brick.  That's how my soul has been feeling, while all of that unknown has been basking in its glory, knowing all that I do not.

It affects my relationships.  Bless Dave's heart.  He's been sitting here, night after night, listening to me analyze and fuss and worry over everything on the other side.  He's such a positive person, and I feel like I'm infecting him with all of my negativity.

It affects my Heavenly relationship.  Many times when I pray, I'm sitting on a mountain overlook.  I'm on one rock, and Jesus is on another.  And we talk.  Well. . .I talk.  He listens.  Every once in a while, He says something.  But first, I have to make it to that rock.  Lately, the path has been tangled with weeds and overgrowth, and I've had to fight it all--machete-style.  There is no reaching that rock on days the path is like that.

And this is how great and wise and wonderful my husband is.  When I told him that all of that uncertainty felt like I was scaling a wall, he gave me advice:

Just let go.

Just. Let. Go.  Let go of that wall.  Pull your fingers out of those crevices and stop scaling.  Well, now, I'd never thought about it that way before.  I was so hell-bent on climbing.  Let go?  But that means falling.

But that also means freeing my scathed soul. 

So I have let go.  I cannot tell you how freeing those three simple words have felt to me.  I let go, and I let in a more positive approach with less worry for the immediate future.  In no ways have I become Pollyanna all of a sudden, but I am definitely softening the calloused areas.  I'm starting to feel better already.  And to think. . .all I had to do was just let go.