WARNING: If you are reading this at the dinner table STOP. Not because this is overly vile, it’s just bad manners – put the phone down whilst you eat, you addict.
On a serious note, this is a bit gross.
Women measure all things newborn in numerical terms. How many weeks, how much did baby weigh, how many stitches to repair the lady garden. But to men, the early day progress chart is measured in the colour of the dirty nappy. A father will ask “what colour is it?” And then give a subtle nod of understanding to your babies progress when you answer ‘green’. Like a disgusting little trip down memory lane I guess.
My step daughter, Faith is almost 3 and shits like an Alsatian, so I’m far from being a newb in the dirty protest department. But she didn’t come into my life until she was 6 months old, so the tiny baby stuff was still new, disgusting, and occasionally terrifiying.
For any expectant fathers out there, here’s what you can expect in the first few weeks:
As black as the Islamic State flag, but unlike ‘IS’, this will actually pose a threat to your general wellbeing. Think ‘a night on the Guinness’ but thankfully without the stench.
The official name for black terd is meconium. It’s basically all the leftovers of the things little one absorbed from the mothers uterus, back in the gold ole’days of the comfort of the womb.
Meconium meets breast milk to form a disgusting digested cocktail. If you’ve ever seen a swan crap itself, it’s a bit like that. Only more regularly. And in your house.
Like a clear silicone mastic, this caused all kinds of distress and frantic Google searches, as it’s the last thing you’d exptect a human to produce.
A hormonal by-product, and perfectly normal according to the visiting midwife. It still didn’t feel normal as we removed it with scissors.
No one will tell you this, but if you have a daughter she will have her first period in the first few weeks. WHY DOES NO ONE TELL YOU ABOUT THIS?! The NHS have just spent 9 months telling me about every possible horror, but don’t bother mentioning this?! Madness.
Cue panic/tears/shouting, only to find it’s normal. Then the fear dies down and you find yourself thinking ‘awww, my little girl is growing up’.
Formula meets breast milk. This is where shit, quite literally gets real. Grainy, oily, smelly and wet – this has it all. This is a perfect time for us to Dads to start pretending we’re asleep when you hear it being expelled in the middle of the night.
We are now exclusive slaves to the formula. As a result, our prescious little poppet produces a wheat coloured paste that would probably make a smashing substitute for grout. This is a great time to buy shares in baby wipes, because you’ll need lots.
- Give her a minute, make sure she’s finished.
- Change mat. Always on a change mat.
- Avoid being hungover wherever possible.
- Your partner will be really tired. Try tricking her into thinking it’s her turn.
In all seriousness, the first one is the worst. Then an acceptance kicks in that this is just life now.
I hope this helps.