Boy, was I flustered. Already late for a colleague’s baby shower, and here I was at a big-box retailer hunting for something that would enter me into a raffle: diapers!
Bring the future parents some diapers. Win a prize. That sounded cool. I’ve done this before. Piece of cake!
… I thought.
“Mam,” I said, stopping one of the workers. “Can you tell me where the baby diapers are?”
I must have looked forlorn, as she smiled comfortingly and said “certainly” before rushing me across the store.
She was probably thinking: “Poor discombobulated father has a new tike at home and a big poopy mess on his hands. Bless his heart!”
New tike at home!?! Ha!
My daughter is 16. She hasn’t been in anything close to a diaper since … well, I can’t even remember that far back. So far, in fact, that I’ve forgotten where to find the diapers. Not even what part of the store to look in. Over by the bananas? Back with the toys? Electronics!?!
And for some reason, it was “discombobulating” me.
“Yeah, I’m going to a baby shower,” I said as we walked, “and I can’t believe I don’t remember where they are.”
She smiled. And I know she was thinking: “Poor discombobulated father is too embarrassed to admit he has a big poopy mess at home. Bless his lying heart!”
Sixteen!!! She’s almost as tall as me! I’m closer to needing diapers than she is.
I was deposited on an aisle on the far side of the store, surrounded by baby clothes and pacifiers and breast milk pumps. The world started spinning. I stared up at a giant cliff wall. A tsunami of diapers. It stretched as far as the eye could see. If you turned around, there were more. Pampers. Huggies. Eco-friendly brands. A brand that promised to snap photos for Instagram and upload your baby’s first Tik-Tok. Brands that could transport the waste to another dimension without you ever getting involved. There was A LOT.
“Holy crap!” I muttered to myself. “What do I do now?!?”
It was overwhelming. I was completely freaking out and I wasn’t even going to put one of these on a baby bottom.
I was in a big poopy mess.
Suddenly I was transported back 16 years to this very same aisle. Father of a newborn. Home from the hospital. Wife and baby resting. Trying to get acquainted. Wiped out. Going through diapers like a factory assembly line.
My daughter was born on Dec. 26. It might be the trickiest time of year for a birth. Thanks to 28 hours in labor, my wife spent a total of 6 days in the hospital. I think I saw the sun twice.
We got home exhausted. Disoriented. Tripping over our own feet. It was like being jet-lagged in a foreign country where you don’t know the language. You need to hit the ground running, but you can barely figure out how to unlock the hotel door. “This is not a good start,” you say before collapsing in the hallway and sleeping it off like a bachelor party drunk.
But you can’t collapse as a parent. You learn that quickly. There’s no time for exhaustion or feeling lost. There’s a screaming baby in the other room, a clearly-perturbed mother and you’ve gone through a truckload of diapers that you thought would last 20 years, but hasn’t lasted 20 minutes.
You need to fix this. You need diapers … FAST!!!
I was remembering this first trip into the world. To this very same store. Dazed and confused. Standing in front of this aisle. Given such a simple task: BUY DIAPERS!!!
Failing miserably: Wait … WHAT KIND!!!??!!!
They should just make a diaper called, “Emergency Diaper for Panicked Dads.” On the package, would be a picture of a freaked-out father pulling his hair out. There should be a packet of pure caffeine with it and a positive message that reads: “Don’t worry. If you mess this kid up, you can have more.”
Instead, there’s 50 million options to pick from. Pull-ups and wings and comfort styles and cartoon characters. How should I know if my daughter wants giraffes or Elmo? I just met her!
There are different ages and sizes, which isn’t cool, because I was NOT paying attention when they told me how much she weighed. I mean, I think she’s like the size of a dog. Do they have one that fits a dog?
It was horrible, and humiliating. I think at some point I probably almost gave up and bought paper towels and duct tape.
But as a parent, you have to pull it together and make it happen. For the first time in your life, people are REALLY depending on you. You need to make good. You need to find clarity, get your wits and grab the first box in arm’s length. Become the lousy parent you always knew you could be.
It is the parent’s code: “I know not what I’m doing, but I shall act and maybe won’t ruin the day.”
Perhaps that’s why the diaper aisle is so complicated. To test the mettle of newborn parents. Toughen and make them stronger. So they’re ready to battle the big poopy mess that is life.
I thought of this in front of the Great Wall of Diapers. I’ve come so far. Faced down so many challenges. Messed up so many times, but always found a way to bounce back. That’s being a parent. Feeling proud, I grabbed a pack of emergency diapers with the dad pulling his hair out and confidently strode to the front of the store. No longer discombobulated.