Babies From The Gut

Today's post is dedicated to all those dads-to-be out there. Please don't let it scare you. Hope you enjoy reading about all my delivery room foibles. Happy Friday to you.

Babies From The Gut

If anyone has any doubts about how to raise a baby, they are living in the right day and age. It seems there are more resources, studies and products available for expecting couples than ever before. This is a far cry from my parent’s time when Dr. Spock covered all the baby care bases, and my mom treated rashes caused by my reusable diapers with a grayish cancer-causing cream while dad smoked Marlboros a few feet away.

In the years that followed, awareness for a baby’s wellbeing increased, and being the hipsters they were, my parents kept up with the trends. In preparation for my sister’s arrival, for example, they slapped a thick coat of oil-base paint on my old crib to cover the chipped up lead-based layer I had gnawed on while teething. And toddlers would no longer be permitted to stand on the front seat of dad’s truck as I had; instead, my sisters would be securely strapped into something referred to as an “infant car seat,” a contraption that, as I recall, resembled a torture devise from SAW III.

Read the final part of "Babies From the Gut" at Houston B.A.B.Y.Magazine

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This post brought to you by the fine folks at Dad-Blogs and their Fatherhood Friday series.