Name: Baby Marty Email: [email protected] Ages: 5 Current Age: 46 When I was born in 1959 I spent my first few months of life in the hospital, near death, because I couldn't poop like a normal newborn. After several surgeries and procedures I was sent home with my mom, happily filling my pants like a normal baby, but with a bright red face and loud grunting and tooting sounds. My mom called it, "telling on myself." Since I was my mom's first baby and her only son, my mom took special delight in me pooping in my pants. After all, for me, pooping was a matter of life and death: If I went one day without filling my pants my mom freaked out, thinking that I was going to die. But when I was regular and filling my pants after each and every meal, my mom was in heaven! My mom has told me that I was a "bottle fed baby", and that I usually filled my pants either during a bottle-feeding while lying on her lap, or shortly after, as she laid me over her shoulder and burped me. She said that often she would be burping me, when I would start to noisily fill my diaper, which made my mom giggle, because she had her hand on my diapered bottom, and could feel the soft warm poop filling my diaper as I grunted and tooted. She said that she would softly coo to me, as she felt my diaper expand and balloon out with warm poop, saying things like, "Uh, oh, Marty's doing something in his pants... yes hims is. Hims is filling hims pants for mommy." Later on, when I was 6 months old, my mom started feeding me solid foods, like strained apples, peaches, carrots, and peas. Since we didn't have a high chair at that time, my mom fed me while I was sitting in my "bouncy chair", a chair that reclined at an angle. She would place the bouncy chair on the table, which brought her face close to mine when she fed me. Usually, my mom has told me, I would be almost finished eating, when I would stop and turn red in the face, and loudly fill my pants. My mom said that would always squirm in my bouncy chair, kick my legs and clench my little fists, as I pushed warm poop into the seat of my diaper. Not only was my mom's face less then 3 inches from mine, as it turned red as a beet, but because of the angle of the bouncy chair, her nose was less then 5 inches from my diapered bottom, so as I filled my diaper with poop, the pungent aroma was right there at my mom's nose. Right now, if I close my eyes, I can see my mom's pretty face, her big nose is sniffing the air around me, as I sit in my bouncy chair and fill my pants, as she playfully wrinkles up her big nose and says, "Shooooo-wee!" In fact, one of the strongest memories I carry with me from my long years in and out of diapers is my mom enjoying the smell of poop. That's right, MY MOM LOVES THE SMELL OF POOP! The reason I say that, is because when someone smells something they don't like, the look on their face betrays them, because they look like they just bit into a sour lemon. But when my mom smelled poop or gas, she didn't look like that: She always smiled when she smelled something "stinky", she never had a sour face. In fact, when she smelled a poopy diaper, either mine, or someone else's, she would inhale the pungent aroma through her nose, again and again, always smiling, and playfully wrinkling up her nose, saying "shooooooo! I think somebody pooped their pants!" Later on, when I turned 12 months old, I was always in a standing position when filling my pants. My mom said that I would just be toddling around the house when I would suddenly stop and get that familiar look on my face. When I started grunting and tooting, my mom would come over to me and pull back my diaper and plastic baby pants and look down my crack to see if I was "busy" filling my pants. If I was pooping my pants my mom always smiled and baby talked to me as she watched me grunt and toot with a bright red face. Then, when I stopped grunting and went back to playing with my toys, my mom would check my diaper again, pulling open the back to see if I was all finished. This was the pattern for the next few years, until potty training came along. Now, I believe, based upon research I have done, that during this time, from birth to potty-training around 2 years of age, my brain was forming "pathways" or as Dr. John Money calls them, "love maps", that is, a guide to intimacy. I believe that when my mom smiled and baby- talked to me as I was pooping in my pants, that when she playfully wrinkled up her nose and said, "Shooooo-wee!" (in an obvious sign to a baby that you enjoy and approve of the aroma of poop) my little infant/toddler brain formed a pathway to love and happiness that exists to this day. A PERMEMENT PATHWAY! Think about it. You are 9 months old, playing with your toys, when you feel your little tummy cramp. Before you can think about it, your infant body starts pushing the poop out and you are involuntarily grunting as you feel soft warm poop fill the seat of your diaper and cover your bottom with a warm, wonderful feeling. Then you see your pretty mommy smiling at you, and cooing to you in baby talk as she watches you fill your pants with poop. Of course you don't realize what you are doing, but you know that it makes your mommy very, very happy. What is that smell? You don't know or make the connection between that wonderful warm feeling on your bottom and the pungent aroma that is all around you. But you do know that whatever it is, your mommy loves it. Whenever you make that special smell, your mommy smiles at you and playfully wrinkles up her nose, saying, "Shooooooo-wee!" Would you not come to think of this aroma and the tummy cramps, grunting, and warm feeling on your bottom as LOVE? Sweet, wonderful love from your mommy? When potty came, I simply could not stop pooping in my pants. My mom tried and tried, but I still wanted to feel that soft warm poop on my bottom and have my mommy smile and baby talk to me. But my mom thought that I should grow up and be a "big boy", so she didn't smile at me anymore when I pooped my pants, she got very angry. But I still kept on filling my pants with poop, until she gave up and put me back in diapers and I was in and out of diapers until the age of 5 or 6. I am now 46, and I still love to wear diapers and poop my pants, the only thing I don't have, is a pretty mommy to smile and coo to me and check my pants when my face turns red. I was very hard to potty train. My mom tried and tried, but I just kept going potty in my training pants. One day, when I was 4 years old, I peed my last pair of clean training pants, and my mom decided to put me back in diapers and plastic baby pants. It was 1963; we were just getting ready to go shopping, when I peed my pants. My mom took my hand and took me back to my room, where she had already stacked neatly folded cloth diapers on top of my dresser. There was also baby powder, baby lotion and a jar of Vaseline next to my bed. My mom had been planning this. She lifted me up on the bed and started to take off my clothes, telling me that since I couldn't use a potty like a big boy, I had to wear diapers and plastic pants like a baby. "I'm not a baby, I'm a big boy!" I told her, lying there on the bed naked. "Well, you don't act like a big boy," she said, as she took two cloth diapers and folded them together. "Yesterday you pooped your pants, and today you have peed your pants three times. Honey, I don't think you are ready to wear big boy pants." Since I was small for my age, more like a 2 year-old, my mom knew exactly how to fold the diapers to fit me. When she lifted me by the ankles and slipped the diapers under my bottom, I knew she wasn't just trying to scare me, she was putting me back in diapers and that was that. When she powdered my bottom with baby powder, she smiled and cooed and started talking baby talk to me. Before I knew it, she had 2 diaper pins in her mouth and was pulling the ends of the diapers together, running the diaper pins through her hair to oil them up and then snuggly diapering me. I still thought that maybe she would change her mind and take them off, but when she took a pair of Gerber extra large toddler size plastic pants and slipped them over my shoes and up over my thick double diapers, I knew that I was going to be in diapers for a long time. After tucking the diaper inside the plastic pants, my mom didn't put a shirt on me or any other outfit, all I was wearing were thick double diapers, Gerber plastic baby pants, and my socks and shoes: Just like any other toddler in the summer of 1963! When we got to the dept store, no one took notice, until my mom checked my pants to see if I needed my diaper changed. I remember it like it was yesterday! We were in the women's clothing section and my mom was looking to buy a new dress. As she looks at dresses, she wrinkles up her nose and says, "Shoooo! I smell something!" She then bends down, holds me still with one hand and with the other she pulls out the back of my baby pants and looks in my diaper for poop. A lady who was standing there, smiled at me as she watched my mom pull open the back of my diaper, asking her, "Did he do something in his pants?" "No, he just tooted." My mom told her. "But he usually toots up a storm just before he fills his britches, so he'll probably be needing his diaper changed pretty soon." The other lady smiled a warm, understanding smile. I was so embarrassed! But my embarrassment was just beginning. My mom knew my bodily functions better then anyone; ever since I was an infant, I always passed a lot of gas just before a large bowel movement. Within a few minutes I had to poop, so when I thought my mom wasn't looking, I hid behind some dresses, and started filling my diaper with poop. I remember it vividly! I could hear my mom and the other lady talking a few feet away, as I pushed warm poop into the seat of my diaper. Pooping in my diaper felt different then training pants. With training pants, I remember the poop would just drop in, without smearing my bottom, but in diapers, that were snuggly pinned on, the warm poop covered my bottom, flowing back up my crack as I filled my diaper. As soon as I was done, I felt wonderful, but I heard my mom say, "Where's Marty? Marty... where are you? Come here honey." The other lady was the first to find me, calling my mom over to where I was. "Honey! Why are you hiding back there? Shooooo-wee! It smells like you pooped your pants! Is that why you were hiding?" Then my mom, in full view of this other lady, pulls back my baby pants and looks inside my diaper, saying, "Shooooo! Oh my goodness! He has filled his pants!" The other lady then offered to help change my poopy diaper, and my mom led me back to the women's restroom holding my hand and telling this lady how she was going to keep me in diapers for a while, because I can't use a potty like a big boy. I can remember that lady telling my mom how hard boys are to train, and I also remember how she smiled at me, as she held my legs up, while my mom cleaned my poopy bottom with a wet washcloth. And my mom kept me in diapers until I was 5 or 6. And this is but one of many pants-pooping experiences that I can remember.