Had you asked me I wouldn’t have told you this even yesterday; but it hit me just now, I am not as easily grossed out as I used to be.
I have always had a weak constitution. So becoming nauseous is hardly a feat for me. When my son was born I was still very much in the grips of that weak stomach.
If he spat up, I ran for it. If he spat up on me I couldn’t pass him to my wife fast enough to change my shirt. The smell of the milk turned my face green and I needed a new shirt.
If spit up was bad diapers were worse. We use cloth diapers. My wife agreed to handle the bulk of the diaper changes, and I would be in charge of washing the diapers. I originally thought I got a pretty good deal. That is before I had to start washing them.
For the first week sitting in the bathroom scraping poop off a diaper before it went into the wash almost killed me. I even started planning my meals around diaper cleaning duty. I must have sounded like I was dying. All the coughing, groaning, heaving and gaging. I never got sick, but boy did my body try.
But now something has changed. Just a few minutes ago I made a mistake. I took a stuffed full bag of diapers down to the washing machine, and I just dumped them in to the water to soak over night. As soon as I did it I knew I had made a mistake. Meghan had tossed the diapers into the bag still assembled. I had to take the liners out of the shells.
This meant I had to reach in to the warm water, and pull out each now soaking wet dirty diaper and remove the liner from the cloth diaper. Two years ago this would have been unthinkable. I would have simply washed them as is on the quickest wash cycle, then pulled them out to separate, and then re-wash them.
As I was pulling the diapers apart it hit me again. The sweat shirt I was wearing, the one I wore out to the youth group I run, Ariella had ever so slightly spit up on me before supper. When she had done this I simply dabbed myself with a wet cloth and kept on going as per normal instead of handing her frantically off and rushing to change.
Every Mom out there is thinking, yeah! so what? big deal… I do this all the time. But trust me, for this Dad this is a quantum leap forward. Two years, and two babies later I finally have developed my daddy stomach. I couldn’t be happier.