We've been getting a lot of advice over the last nine months. It sounds ominous.

"Your life will never be the same."

"You won't believe how much your life changes."

"You look...not that huge. Did I mention the life-change thing?"

Only about a hundred times now. But that's okay. We appreciate the heads-up.

As you read this, my husband and I are welcoming our first child into the world. For the next three months, this column will be on hiatus while we try to figure out what hit us.

First, let me say this about labor: Yes, I know about the drugs.

Yes, I took the drugs.

Me? Labor? Not happening without the drugs.

Breaking the ice

Expecting a child, I've discovered, is a great icebreaker for learning all sorts of gross stuff.

At a Christmas party, one guy regaled us with the story of his wife's Caesarean section. From movies, he'd gotten the idea surgery was a delicate art. Ha. His wife's doctor jumped in there like a longshoreman at a slaughterhouse.

"This is so not right," the hapless dad said to himself, while memorizing the more comic details for retelling at parties.

From other parents, we have learned the Diaper Genie is one of those fantastic, miracle gadgets that everyone hates. People keep trying to foist Genies on us. Something about the annoyance of refills. C'mon, now, how much can one little guy poop?

We've also learned that no caring parent would ever make his progeny endure a cold baby wipe. If you don't buy a baby-wipe warmer, you're hopeless. Might as well flash-forward to visiting your kid in prison.

Please, people, pinch me if I ever buy a baby-wipe warmer.

Then there's that other hazard for new parents: the baby monitor.

Do not, we've been told, change a diaper upstairs, near the monitor, while offering opinions on the people downstairs.

Now let's wipe your little bottom, okay? There we go. That's better. Whatever was she thinking when she got that nose job?

Oops.

`Life change'?

All these pearls of wisdom have been duly noted, with thanks.

I must admit, though, to some confusion over the "life change" remarks.

That our world will undergo a cosmic shift seems obvious to me. Mentally, I've already given up sleep, spontaneous car rides, uninterrupted phone conversations and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I'm prepared for gum getting stuck in the cats, for projectile vomiting, for crying jags at the first sight of a mall Santa. I've had 35 years of the universe revolving around me. It's time somebody else took a turn.

But wait a minute. Maybe I've misunderstood the message all along. Maybe "your life will never be the same" is more benediction than warning.

Maybe what it really means is this: You'll never believe how much you love your baby.

Yes. That must be it.

The love fest has begun.

kgutierrez@enquirer.com or (859) 578-5584.