Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Babies*


[SCENE: A lavishly appointed NICU ROOM. NURSE PRACTITIONER—formerly seen in Act I: A Streetcar Named TRACHEOSTOMY—pulls up a chair. ALEXA looks up from LAPTOP, visibly ALARMED.]

NURSE PRACTITIONER: So, I just want to prepare you…
ALEXA’S INNER MONOLOGUE: Oh god, WHAT NOW?
NURSE PRACTITIONER: …for the fact that things may start moving quickly now that Simone is back on the regular cannula. She can be discharged on this oxygen setting, and once she is taking all her feedings by bottle or breast, we will be sending her home.
ALEXA’S NECK: WHIPLASH!

-Fade to black-

[SCENE: A lavishly appointed NICU ROOM. ALEXA is MAKING FACES at the BABY. WOMAN enters.]
WOMAN: Hi! I’m from Discharge Planning. Do you have a few minutes to talk?
ALEXA’S BRAIN: LIQUIFIES, DRIPS OUT RIGHT EAR

It looks like Simone is coming home. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of her life (we may have to negotiate that last part when she reaches college age, but never mind that now).
So, uh, I have a lot of questions. About babies. Because of how I have one. Who will be coming to live with me, at my apartment, where the nurse-to-neonate ratio is suboptimal (0-1). Currently, my knowledge of infants is more or less limited to the following:
1. Generally diminutive in size
2. Fond of milk
3. Exhibit poor impulse control
4. To clean, wipe with damp cloth
5. Should never be thrown out with bathwater

I was initially relieved to see that babies have their own Wikipedia page, but it turns out to be full of helpful tidbits such as “Babies cannot walk” and “Infants’ social presence is different from that of adults, and they may be the focus of attention. Fees for transportation and entrance fees at locations such as amusement parks or museums are often waived.”

While I am certainly pleased to know that I can send Simone out for an afternoon of sightseeing with a minimal amount of cash, I have more pressing concerns. Like the tag that came attached to one of my daughter’s snap-heavy unitards:

tag

PARDON?

Catch FIRE? Are babies flammable? Is this something I need to be watching for, a PLUME OF SMOKE rising from her bassinet?
So yes: I have many questions. I could “read” or “consult experts,” but talking to the Internet has served me so well in the past that I thought I would do that instead. I have a whole slew of things to ask about breastfeeding and reflux and whatnot, but those will be more involved posts later this week (that anyone who is not deeply interested in my nipples may want to skip). For now, I will start with something simple:

MY NEUROSIS, LET ME SHOW U IT

One of the first things we heard when they started transitioning Simone to a crib was that she would need to be bundled up, and could we bring in some of her clothes? “Sure!” I said brightly, surreptitiously writing Buy Baby Clothes on my To Do list. I never had a baby shower, seeing as how I didn’t make it out of the second trimester, and my paranoia did not permit me to buy baby things during pregnancy myself (a good thing, too, or I’d be listing a double stroller on Craigslist right about now). After Simone was born, her health was so tenuous that I was even less inclined to purchase crib bedding I might have to re-tailor into an infant shroud.

But if trained medical professionals needed me to shop for wee bodysuits, well, by golly I would. So I ran out to buy a package of onesies…and staggered into my apartment three hours later with bags hanging from my every appendage, bags containing things like baby Tylenol and tiny socks and a random package of bottles. Perhaps my blood sugar was low, perhaps it was the fine mist of acquisition-promoting chemicals they spray into the air at Target, but once I tossed that first pair of footed pajamas into my cart, there was no stopping me. I was too superstitious to do anything with my freshly acquired loot but shove it into a closet and sneak in to stare at it every once in a while, but it’s a start. I have a Boppy sitting in the NICU. I have the softest stuffed elephant ever made. We even have a crib, an honest-to-goodness crib for a baby.

Besides the aforementioned baby Tylenol I now own a barrel-sized vat of hand-sanitizer, Pampers SENSITIVE! wipes, Johnson & Johnson NO MORE TEARS! baby shampoo, a bulb syringe, two hulking air purifiers, and a baby first aid kit—the only thing missing is the plastic bubble. But I know there is more to stocking a nursery than rectal thermometers and stuffed elephants, soft or not (the elephants, not the thermometers). And it’s confusing: did you know you aren’t supposed to use baby oil or baby powder? I assumed that the “baby” prefix meant they were appropriate for the younger set, but no.

So let’s assume, for a moment, that Simone is going to continue staying alive and eventually come home to the room earmarked for her—what do I need? Rags, obviously, for assorted fluids. Twine to keep her tethered safely in her crib. Anything I am missing? What did you use, and what was a waste of money that could more properly be spent on cheese and gin?

*But Were Too Infertile to Ask