One father faces his fears of bodily fluids, fainting and eternal humiliation
By Tom Loftus
Columnist
MSNBC
Looking back I can't say that my wife, Emily, and I were expecting a scene from a Doris Day movie when we toured the birthing ward of our hospital two weeks before our due date. But we certainly weren't expecting "Full Metal Jacket" either.
On that day in late February, St. Vincent’s Hospital in New York City was Baby Factory U.S.A.
Again and again double doors flew open to reveal a new family. The scene was always the same — an exhausted mama, bundled baby, and lagging far behind, the bleary-eyed papa. They passed with their thousand-yard stares with not a glance at our touring group of fresh-faced parents-to-be.
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