The reality of bringing home a collodion baby
The page came through right at 3 AM during a brutal winter shift at Northwestern Memorial. The attending OB's voice on the phone was just a fraction tighter than usual, which in hospital triage terms means you grab the crash...
Surviving A Cone Head Baby: When Your Newborn Looks Like An Alien
I had a spreadsheet for everything. Diaper count, precise bassinet temperature, best swaddle torque. But nowhere in my forty-two tabs of prenatal research did I account for the moment the delivery nurse handed me a creature whose skull looked like...
Oh My Little Baby Boy: Demolishing The Tough Infant Myth Today
I was in the middle of wrestling a mustard-yellow blowout off my six-month-old when my great-aunt patted my shoulder and told me I was coddling him. He was sobbing because he was cold and covered in his own waste. I...
The Medical Truth About Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers And Safety
I was shivering on Southport Avenue, pushing a ridiculously expensive piece of aesthetic plastic over a frozen Chicago pothole. The front wheels locked up on a chunk of dirty street ice. The stroller abruptly stopped, and my four-month-old's head violently...
The Wheeled Menace: Surviving the Push Walker Baby Era With Twins
It was 4:17 PM on a rainy Tuesday when I found Molly wedged firmly beneath the living room radiator, her lower half encased in a brightly coloured plastic UFO that was loudly playing a tinny electronic version of "Old MacDonald."...
A Letter to My Past Self: How to Watch Baby Boy Chaos Unfold
You're currently sitting on the beige rug in the nursery, holding a half-melted bag of frozen Trader Joe's peas to your left eyebrow. Your five-month-old just executed what I can only describe as a tactical headbutt masquerading as a hug....
The "Where Is Mama" Phase Is Ruining My Ping
14.3 seconds. I checked my smartwatch. That’s exactly how long it took me to walk from the living room play area, step over the dog gate, open the fridge, grab a lime seltzer, and walk back. But when I crossed...
When do babies start clapping: a letter to my panicked past self
Dear Priya from six months ago. You're currently sitting on the jute rug in the living room. Your knees hurt. You have sung some variation of pat-a-cake forty-seven times today. Your coffee is cold and your eight-month-old is staring at...
The great sweet potato incident and surviving baby boy haircuts
My wife Sarah was holding a spoonful of mashed sweet potato like a hostage negotiator, while I hovered over the high chair wielding a pair of poultry shears. Our son was completely oblivious, thrashing his head to some internal rhythm...