Atomic Diaper Rash

Parenthood, as we've found, is a colossal effort of trial and error. Over the past two-plus months, we've made plenty of errors, not the least of which was Nick allowing Luke to thrash about too close to his dad's chin, a decision that permitted Luke's little cranium to go crashing into Nick's steeled-jawed visage, resulting in a long, high-pitched, painful wail that brought Mom running.

Then there was our first trip out to a restaraunt after Luke's arrival. The Wasabi Incident, as it came to be known, started peacefully enough, with Mom and Dad ordering sushi at a Cherry Creek locale and Kim's mom watching the baby. Everything went fine until, on the way home, Kim realized that the wasabi just eaten might somehow get through the breastmilk to Luke. Sure enough, the next morning, Luke's bum was as red as tomato paste, and his wails powerfully expressed his newfound disposition. Several days went by and, after a lot of crying and diaper rash cream, the redness faded and our guilt was assuaged. Still, the damage was done and Luke still looks at his parents with the undeniable expression that, even now, we somtimes really chap his hide.

Fast forward several weeks and the family is up in the mountains. Nick, manfully sacrificing one of the last ski days of the year so his wife could make some much-deserved turns, stays with the baby Saturday and changes numerous diapers of varying degrees of soilage. Remembering the Wasabi Incident, Nick decides to thoroughly and vigorously clean the affected area with each diaper change. While the doctor had warned us of the high, dry mountain air, it never crossed Nick's mind that the atmospheric dryness could create a baby bum-chapping the likes of which he could only imagine (scrubbing a few hundred thousand skin cells off with each change didn't help the situation, either). And lo, by Sunday afternoon, poor little Luke had been hit with Atomic Diaper Rash.

Following the furious screaming on Luke's part that Sunday night, Kim decides to call the doctor on Monday. The doctor's office cheerfully tells her that prescription diaper rash cream is only dispensed when blisters appear on the baby. BLISTERS! Luke is screaming so loud and long he doesn't have enough air in his lungs to sound his suffering and we're supposed to believe this can get WORSE. Three days, Kim was told, of standard, over-the-counter treatments must elapse without progress before prescription. We're in the middle of that time now, with some progress made, but overall the critical region of Luke's body is still as red as the sun of Planet Krypton.

For all new parents out there, or those that are about to become parents, PLEASE guard against Atomic Diaper Rash. You do not know misery until you have a wailing, unconsolable infant on your hands that you can't hold well because touching his backside aggravates the pain. As for us, we're off to keeping Luke's potential Chernobyl bum cheeks down to a mere Three-Mile Island.