Baby’s First Grumpy Rumbler

November 30, 2010 in Infant & Labor  

Baby’s First Grumpy Rumbler

Like any man being thrown into the unknown world of madness that is parenthood, I received tons of advice from others:

  • “Always hold baby’s head.”
  • “Make sure you stay the husband you were before the baby came.”
  • “Keep the baby so warm that he is constantly sweating.”
  • “No sex for at least 6 weeks.”

The advice was well meaning and mostly great – not the sex advice, that wasn’t good advice at all ;) – but there was something that every new parent neglected to tell me about, and, to this day, I hold a grudge against every single one of them. Nobody warned me about the first baby poo: the evil Black Tar Poo.

My wife, Jenny, had a c-section after 18 horrible hours of labor – apparently my son’s head was as big as a 25 year old’s, and we finally got to a point where we decided that it needed to be over as soon as possible!

Due to the c-section I was in charge of the first few days of diaper changing. We gave Jack his first feeding and I learned on the fly how to swaddle. We put him down, kicked everyone out of the room and passed out. An hour later, I heard Jack cry so I jump up and begin to unswaddle.

This is the moment I’ve been preparing for… changing a diaper. It’s so dadly, every dad has to do it, lots. But it’s weird too, hard to prepare for. But I was prepared… I’m a strong and capable man, I got this.

So I ripped the diaper off… and lost every ounce of my confidence. This wasn’t poo. Wheres the poo!? This looked nothing like poop AT ALL. It was this nasty, gross, burnt rubber in the diaper. My boy was burnin’ rubber!

I had no idea what the hell to do with it. It was EVERYWHERE. Not only was it crazy difficult to get off, it was stuck to his balls! HIS BALLS! There was black tar on his beans. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want anyone scrubbing my beans, ever. I couldn’t do it to him. I wimped out and called the nurse and had her do the dirty work for me.

Over the next couple of days, the black tar poops(technically called meconium) turned more and more into what normal dung looks like and I felt a lot better about taking on the diaper duties.

So for all of you new dads, especially those with sons, prepare yourself for a very sticky situation. The shit is about to get serious.

This post was written by Nick Maestas, professional man-dad-husband-guy and minister of west-coast sales for Fuzzy Robot, a small company with a big dream to make your kids cuter and warmer!

photo courtesy of VerminInc

Please Comment & Add Your Voice!

kevin November 30, 2010 at 9:47 am

I read this while sitting on the toilet. And laughed out loud. Shit got real.

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Adam B November 30, 2010 at 1:28 pm

It only gets better from here on in. There is a whole new wonderful world of smells you are about to discover.
Just pray you have a strong gag reflex (mine can be dodgy at best).
My 3 yo nephew does dumps that should be classified as a chemical weapon. I swear it strips paint off the walls and sends dogs running for the hills it’s that potent.
Adam B @revhappiness

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Samuel November 30, 2010 at 1:37 pm

The meconium is actually made almost entirely of blood. The digestive system doesn’t have any food to process in utero as all the nutrients come straight through the blood in the umbilical cord. The bowels, however, are still hard at work filtering old dead red blood cells out of the fetus’ bloodstream. So the meconium is actually not “poop” (although it comes from the same place) in that it is not digested food. It’s just old, coagulated blood.

It stains for eternity, and when thrown at a wall it climbs down it like that sticky rubber gak that kids get from $0.25 machines at the supermarket.

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Chase November 30, 2010 at 1:56 pm

Really, honestly, truly… thanks for that Samuel. I’ve learned something new today… something horrible, and new.

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Willie Jackson November 30, 2010 at 11:42 pm

I would have been ill-prepared for fatherhood without this post.

The more you know :)

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Samuel December 2, 2010 at 11:19 am

I learned these facts while our midwife was chasing me around the house with my son’s (now 4) first droppings on a blanket.

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