From the Blog – Holy Meconium – the story of a man who never thought he’d ever be a Dad.

Part 1 – Meconium – What the hell is that shit?

Meconium is the earliest stool of a mammalian infant.  (Wikipedia)

Meconium. I hear the word for the first time on waking from a micro sleep (yes, the same kind that causes drowsy drivers to crash) and I roll it around in my mind, a mind that is still in that mumbo-jumbo world of almost awake. Meconium, Meh-coh-nee-yum. A long-lost ancient Greek city perhaps or maybe a recently discovered element on the periodic table?

Or maybe, I’ve woken in a parallel universe? A giant rift rent into the space-time continuum has sucked me through into the land of Meconium where the Meconese rule with an iron-fist. No. I wipe my eyes, suck in a deep breath and regain my senses. The land of Meconium would be a nice change from the land of antenatal class in which I am stuck with no reasonable chance of escape.

I look around and there’s my wife busily taking notes. And there it is, the M-word, in beautifully styled cursive script – Meconium. The midwife person continues talking, my wife continues taking notes and it’s cold outside and it’s warm in the room and my thoughts start to drift and….

And then I’m awake again, regaining my senses to the midwife person talking about some bloke called Braxton-Hicks, or maybe it’s a lady, not sure. So I put two and two together and realise that this Braxton-Hicks fella/gal must be the scientist that discovered the Meconium stuff but why is the midwife person banging on about this in an ante-natal class? What’s a scientist and a chemical element got to do with babies?

This is some weird shit.

Am I awake or am I dreaming some kind of weird twin-peakesque type dream? I look around again – men with vacant eyes thinking about goodness knows what and women hanging on every word spoken by the midwife person – nup, this is an antenatal class and I ain’t dreaming.

Actually, come to think of it, who and what is this midwife person? Doctor, nurse, patient now that I comprende. That’s how it’s been for yonks, right? So where does this midwife person come in? Half a wife? Not quite your wife? Midwife, it sounds mediaeval, like a character in Shakespearean play.

Anyhoo, back to the land of noddy, anything to avoid having to listen to a diatribe on hormone changes in trimester one. Maybe Meconium is not a city or an element at all, maybe it’s an as yet undiscovered moon of the planet Pluto…*snoring*

And then I feel it. A sharp elbow to the midriff. I open my eyes to see the midwife person holding a page about an inch away from my nose. A page that has a picture of the most hideous looking black stuff plastered all over it. Black stuff blacker than a Dementor’s crap. Blacker than a smokers just coughed up lung. Than recently laid road-fill, than…anyway you get the picture but what I want to know is why is this half wife person pushing it into my face?

“Meconium” she says loudly and draws away the page so she can stare into my eyes Nurse Ratched style (or is that Midwife Ratched style?). “This is what your baby’s first poo will look like.”

“Meconium is baby poo?”

“Yes it is and if you’re any kind of a supportive partner it’s going to be your job to clean it up.”

“Me.” I look around hoping for some backup from the brotherhood in the room.

“Yes, you. Your partner has probably just spent the best part of a day squeezing out your son or daughter enduring incredible pain so you can be a Daddy. This is the least you can do for her.”

At this point, I’m starting to wonder what I signed up for and I can see the brotherhood in the room are all thinking the same. Nobody mentioned black baby shit and hormones and swaddling. What the hell is swaddling anyway? Sounds like a wrestling move or some sick perverted shit that happens on the internet. No way, that stuff wasn’t in the contract. Pregnancy. Birth. Relos making a fuss. Wet the baby’s head with the lads. Couple of weeks off work to watch the footy. Change a few nappies. Job done. Back to work. Surely that’s how it all goes? That’s how the menfolk have done it for, for, like ever.

“Oh that’s just part of the fun,” continues Midwife Ratched. “You’re in for one hell of a ride, buddy, so it might be a good idea to stay tuned-”

Hang on, ‘wild ride’. I chuckle. I get it, she’s pissed off cos I fell asleep and now she’s making an example of me.

“- because you’re about to go on the greatest roller coaster of them all. One that will change you and your life forever.”

“Take it easy,” I say. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, people have been having kids forever.”

“Maybe, but you’re not people. You’re going to be a child’s father. Your wife’s partner. It will be your child. Your responsibility to look after her and your baby. And you have no idea what you’re in for.”

And she was right.