Changing a Diaper


It was never one of my favorite things. Those who knew wondered how I ever entered the specialty of Gastroenterology, one that dealt oftentimes with the field of waste. Whatever, I hated to change diapers, wet or otherwise. The evening I babysat for my grandson Alec was a test.
The ladies went to a baby shower and they asked if I would be the sitter (the only one left). Knowing my dislike for “the change,” his mother prearranged the evening. They went out late, the two year old had been fed, he was tired, he never stained his diaper after a certain hour, and he would be ready for bed shortly after their departure. They left. I was alone and confident. A little play time, and I took him to his crib. He went down without incident. I sat at my computer in the other room.
“He might cry a little,” Michele said, “but just ignore him. He will go sleep. Call me if there is a problem.”
He cried. A little became more, then a lot, so that I could not resist a peek into the room. Was he caught in the crib, did he drop his bottle, was he night- frightened, lonely? I needed to know.
As I approached the room and the smell, I had the answer. I summoned my greater forces and resisted calling for help.
When I picked him up to change him, I realized there was more, much more. The effluent extended beyond the boundaries of the diaper walls. How could it be? This was not supposed to happen! The backside of his pajamas was covered. It was a test.
I disrobed him and in the process soiled his face and hair. He was covered, but smiling. Now for the cleaning process. Thank God for “Wet Ones.”
When I finished, the pile of “Wet Ones” stood a foot high. The manufacturer would be thrilled.
I found another set of pajamas and decided we needed some time together. We went to the television. I could care less about his schedule. It was my reward. We sat together for two hours, watching something, who knows what. He remained. He looked at me periodically, smiled. That was my reward. We bonded. It was all worth it.

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4 Comments on “Changing a Diaper”

  1. janet perry Says:

    Hi Ed, what a wonderful story! Isn’t being a grandparent wonderful! The bonding experiences are priceless.

  2. June Champagne Says:

    Dr Iannuccilli,
    I had a similar situation babysitting my great-niece when she was about the same age,eating table food (the worse) now 18 years old. None the less, I had her one entire weekend, we had a great time, just me and her. The first nightshe went to bed on time after a nice warm bath, all lotioned/powdered up (when you could use powder on babies). Well, shortly after putting her down, I checked on her. I knew something was amiss when I opened the door, I picked her up and it was everywhere, coming out of her PJ, down her legs, what had they fed her before dropping her off to me was a mystery!!!!!! I ended up throwing out the PJ’s, putting her in the tub, yet again. It was worse than being at the “land fill”. My God, how could something like that come out of such a sweet and darling baby girl!!!!!!!!!!!! I had all I could do to contain my self from, well we won’t get into that!!!!! You have to love them, my grandmother would say, little kids, little problems, big kids, big problems.


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