Dear $^!$%@ Baby,
I was not exaggerating when I said I had never changed a diaper before. So imagine my hesitancy when all of a sudden I am faced with you and diapers are going to be a common thing, since I don’t think catheters are allowed in healthy babies. I waited as long as I could to not do the diaper thing. I was just not ready to manhandle you like the nurses (or Big A) did, pulling your legs up and scraping your ass and what not. Not ready. But then they left me alone with you. Unsupervised. By myself. Just you. And me. I’m not sure why they thought that was an okay thing to trust me with.
And you screamed. The magic blue line appeared.
Stop. Diaper time.
I was not about to surrender and call the nurse to change a diaper. That’s dumb. I’m a mom now, dammit. I can do this. I watched Big A do it. I AM GOING TO ROCK THIS. I released you from your cotton toilet, wiped you down and was about to wrap your tiny butt back up. Big A walks in. Good! He can check my work and give his stamp of approval. I am just about to pat myself on the back…when you decide you’re not finished.
And you grace us with the presence of your pee.
Pee. Everywhere. All over your bilirubin tanning bed, all over your cool dude sun shades, all over me, you even got it in your damn ear.
IN YOUR OWN %^!@# EAR.