It’s actually quite hard to know where to begin on this topic. We’ll start with the term. “Babywearing” refers to carrying a baby on your body with a soft fabric construct of some sort. I have seen a small protest to the use of the term “babywearing” as an objectification of the infant as a piece of clothing, but in general, when people talk about babywearing, they’re talking about a very special type of close nurturing which doesn’t require the constant occupation of your arms and hands. In short, babywearing is a lifesaver.
As a non-babywearing culture, we are inundated with images of strollers, bouncers, playpens, and other devices to help us be more effective parents and to keep our little ones neatly contained. All of these things can be useful each in their own way, but I have never found a tool that could match one soft cloth baby sling.
Bouncers, swings, and rocking cradles were all made to take advantage of the nature of babies to be soothed by rhythmic motion. Newborns are used to being the beat of their mother’s heart and the bounce of her step lulling them to sleep and keeping them company at every moment as it did in the womb. Sustenance was never far, being cold was a foreign concept, and mother’s voice resonated from a close source. Even after birth, the most soothing rhytm to a baby is the exact tempo of an adult walk.
In our culture, we expect our young to get the memo: As soon as you’re born, to prove you’re a “good baby” you shouldn’t cry, you shouldn’t mind being put down anywhere for any amount of time, conform to eating and sleeping schedules, and generally not make a fuss. The general consensus in our society is that a “good baby” is one who doesn’t demand attention. I have many objections to this definition of a “good” baby, one being that it sets up tough criteria which creates a lot of stress for parents and caregivers and can harm the bond between mother and baby.
To expect these things from an infant is like rowing a boat upstream against the current, instead of letting the stream guide you along. If we’re talking about evidence based practices, we would all be breastfed, worn close to the body, and have our needs met immediately. Biologically speaking, human babies are categorized as “carried young.”
Imagine you’re the mother of an infant. You’re a pretty normal woman adjusting to the role of motherhood. Your baby doesn’t want to sleep all the way through the night, so you’ve started using formula right before bed to get her to stay down for (you hope) more than 4 hours at a time. She has a beautiful crib in her own nursery next to your bedroom. You love taking her out in her stroller to walk around the park. A lof of the time, you end up holding her and pushing the stroller with one hand. She just loves to snuggle and never seems as relaxed as when you’re holding her . . . which makes you worry a lot about spoiling her. She also wants to nurse a lot, and you worry you’re not making enough milk.
One day something happens: A hurricane, a tsunami, an earthquake, flood, terrorist attack, or simply getting lost and stranded in a snowstorm on a holiday road trip. This event, whatever it may be, is the test of your lifetime. It could happen. It has happened. For whatever reason, you are left to your own devices. Cars run out of gas, entire sections of the country have been cut off by flood waters, electricity becomes a fond memory, and keeping yourself and your baby alive become the number one concern.
You can’t push a stroller if the sidewalks are cracked and trembling with aftershocks. Your first instinct is to grab your baby and hold her tight. Your instinct is right. Strollers also won’t make it as you wade through chest-high flood waters contaminated by sewage. If you need your hands free to climb wreckage, grasp someone else’s hand, or to carry what few possessions you could rescue . . . you could sure use a sling to carry your baby. In the aftermath of Katrina, there was a massive call for baby slings and carriers for the moms living in shelters or mucking out their homes.
When something happens, you want your child as close to you as possible, and soft fabric carriers are the best solution. If you’re lucky enough to still be breastfeeding, the scarcity of potable water is no threat to your baby, and the closeness of a sling helps the breastfeeding dyad: the closer the baby is, the more she suckles, and the more milk you make–especially important in stressful situations which would otherwise threaten your supply. Having your baby high and tight on your front, back, or hip facilitates their safety, your ability to nurture while still going about your every activity . . . even going to the bathroom if you don’t have anyone you trust with your baby, or a clean place to set her down.
I watched an episode of television about people who’d gone through things that would have killed most others. In this episode, a husband, a wife, and a breastfeeding infant got lost and stranded in the snow. They had very little food, and their gas ran out, leaving them with no heat. They forged onward with the guidance of a map, but soon succumbed to thirst, hunger, and hypothermia. In order to keep their baby with them, they bundled him up and zipped him into a garment bag which they dragged behind them.
If only they had come from a babywearing culture, they might have inserted him into the deepest layer of the mother’s clothing, closing her outer jacket as much as possible over them both, perhaps even tying him tighter with a scarf. This would have held their baby securely and warmly as the skin on an adult torso actually adjusts specifically to the temperature needs of an infant in close contact. Instead, as a natural defense mechanism against the cold, the child went into a near coma state, all his blood receding from his extremities to preserve his vital organs. She was also very lucky she was breastfeeding because her body’s ability to rally and provide food for her infant was amazing, even in extreme crisis, thirst, starvation, and cold.
They all survived, but it was a near thing. If they’d known some basic survival tips (like ALWAYS keep your feet dry), they could have saved some fingers and toes also. The baby was dehydrated, recovered well once he got warm, and had VERY bad diaper rash. (Now if that family had been practicing Natural Infant Hygiene, they could have possibly avoided that rash also . . .)
I’m not telling you this because I want to scare you. Instead, think of the human body as a beautiful, amazing thing which is built to survive and determined to preserve the lives of our children. Human infants are supposed to be carried young. If we look at other mammals, we will see that they either cache or carry their young. The mammals that cache their young, meaning leave them for longer stretches of time, have a very high fat content to their milk, designed to sustain their infants for the duration of their absence. Human milk has a lower fat content, and our infants are specifically built to digest it quickly and nurse frequently, thus being in constant or near-constant contact with their mother.
So, you’ve been hit by some natural disaster and lost your home. You arrive at the nearest shelter on foot, your arms past the point of aching. A haggard crowd forms around you, all of you headed toward the nearest safe point. A woman with a baby tied on her back with a colorful cloth carrier (like a backpack with long straps) taps you on the shoulder, and you nearly stumble from the shock of contact. She has something for you. She takes the length of fabric with two rings on the end and shows you how to thread it and hold your baby upright in a tummy to tummy position.
She gently asks you if you breastfeed or if you need formula and bottles for the baby soon. You say you’re nursing. She shows you how to latch the baby and nurse in the sling, leaving your hands free. She takes care to spread the fabric over your shoulder and evenly on your back, her hands smoothing down your aching muscles, her tone confident and calm. For the first time in hours, you let your arms lower, the muscles screaming in relief and protest. Your baby quietly falls asleep within minutes and stays quiet as you check in with Red Cross.
The woman with a baby on her back moves through the crowd, finding mothers with babies, handing out various soft cloth carriers, some with four ties coming off a rectangle, some just pieces of cloth, long and short, until her backpack sags empty. You realize she didn’t bring anything else, and you packed some non-perishables in your diaper bag. She smiles really big, bouncing her babe on her lap, as you approach and offer your food, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like things will be alright.
In the weeks that follow, you use the sling almost every moment of every day. You find that your baby nurses a lot, and sometimes you look down to realize you latched her on. You stop worrying so much about spoiling her because she just seems so happy, especially compared to the babies in the shelter who aren’t worn in a sling. Those babies cry all the time, and you’re the one who gets compliments on your baby being “so good” . . . Your milk supply must be doing more than enough because she gets so full she falls asleep. You offered her a bottle once (someone had donated formula and bottles to the shelter), but she didn’t show very much interest.
When getting food, or new sheets, or using the bathroom, you don’t need to set her down or hand her off. She sleeps peacefully through most of your activities, and you’re able to line up and fill out paperwork for assistance and recovery without juggling the baby.
So, let’s go back to our earlier definition of a good baby and explore that a little further. In America the following points are considered good traits in infants:
- doesn’t cry
- doesn’t cry or fuss if put down
- falls asleep alone
- sleeps through the night
- eats on a convenient schedule
- doesn’t demand close contact
Let us suppose that you have a child who fits the definition of a “good” baby per the above criteria, and he has a cousin who does NOT fit into any of the above criteria. Let’s call them Charles (“good” baby) and Chandler (not “good” baby). Since you’re probably all tired of the catastrophic scenarios, let’s go back in time with Charles and Chandler. Let’s go back to the American pioneer days when it was more likely to hear wolves howling than the sound of your neighbor’s voice.
There was no formula, there were no plastics, no car seats, no electricity, and definitely no strollers. Both Charles and Chandler have mothers who were taught how to hold their babies on their bodies with large square shawls, just like all the women in their family did all the way back to the Welsh farmstead. They birthed alone, or with the help of their oldest daughters. They worked as hard, or harder than the men.
These two sisters lived in close proximity, only a day’s full travel away from one another. They gave birth to their boys within weeks. Charles seems like a very affable lad. He doesn’t demand to suckle. He makes no fuss to be put down. Charles has many older siblings who share the tasks around the home. Since he makes no fuss to be separated from his mother, she hands him to an older sister in order to do housework. Several hours pass, and his mother notices she’s engorged with milk.
She calls for the baby and scolds the older daughter for not calling if Charles was hungry. Charles nurses a bit, and doesn’t seem interested. His mother takes a good look at him and tries to latch him again. He turns his cheek. She puts the shawl around her shoulder, longer on the left, wraps it around him and tucks it so he’s held snugly to her chest. She tries to offer the breast often, but he arches and makes a fuss if forced, so she stops pushing.
As mindful as she is of her baby, she has a large work load, and Charles is often handed off to the older girls. The weeks go by, and Charles doesn’t seem to be plumping up like her other babies did. He doesn’t scream or fuss. One day, the older girls set him on a blanket in the sun, sit around him and braid flowers into crowns. One of their siblings cries out in surprise nearby. He found something strange, come look! The older girls get up and tell the youngest little girl to stay with the baby, and they all run off. The little girl edges further and further away from the blanket, eyes intent on whatever is obscured by the crowd of older siblings.
The “good” baby doesn’t seem to mind being left alone, the sun beats down on his vulnerable body. At this point, nature sees an opportunity to further the cycle of the food chain. It could be a sneaky coyote, a rattler scared by the baby’s kick, or simple heatstroke. Charles is the perfect candidate for reunion with the earth. He hasn’t suckled much or for very long, diminishing his mother’s milk supply. He is failing to thrive, not gaining proper amounts of weight.
If he had at least the inclination to cry if left alone, the littlest girl could go back to him and see the danger. She could pick him up or call for help.
Let us turn our attention to Chandler who lives a full day’s travel to the west. His mother also has older siblings, and likewise works hard. She carries him in his shawl constantly because he screams his head off if he’s put down. This close proximity makes breastfeeding easy, including comfort suckling which increases his mother’s milk supply and helps keep her period at bay. This is the best kind of birth control women have available other than abstinence.
Chandler sleeps with his mother, nursing quietly and peacefully several times at night. Both mother and baby sleep very well, the nursing sessions blending into the night. Throughout the day, Chandler is wrapped in his shawl on his mother’s front, or her back, depending on the kind of work she needs to do. The motion of her walk, her voice, the rhythm of her arms she works, all these things sooth Chandler. He will tolerate playing with an older sibling for a short amount of time, but will start looking for his mother after a little while. If he is alone, he cries until someone picks him up and comforts him. He doesn’t like being on the ground alone; That seems dangerous to him.
Chandler loves to be held by his mother, to have easy access to nursing, and to feel her tickle him or stroke his back as he falls asleep while she moves around. He sometimes goes through growth spurts which make him hungry every hour, and his mother sometimes ties the shawl so she can nurse him and work with her hands at the same time, perhaps cooking or sewing. He cries and fusses often, but nursing usually makes it better . . . so the family hears one or two frustrated cries before he’s put to the breast.
This way, Chandler can tell his mother if he’s cold, hot, hungry, tired, dirty, or uncomfortable in any way. Without hardly thinking about it, his seasoned mother pats him, nurses him, cleans him up, rubs his belly or back to help with gas, and he is kept happy and healthy. He soon grows plump and never gets sick.
So, what do Charles and Chandler have to do with you? You’ve got electricity. You can choose not to breastfeed. You can use strollers, cribs, bouncers, pacifiers, and anything you want do. I fully support you in your choices as a parent. You’re the one in charge. You are the person who determines the type of life you want to live based on your values. I don’t doubt for a moment that you love your child . . . because I am a mother, and I know that kind of love. It’s wonderful.
I wanted to take the time to share how my love is expressed for my child. I love my baby every day by living as naturally as possible, practicing the kind of parenting that allows my child to thrive best in tune with his evolutionary programming, and maintaining certain practices which could preserve his life in the event of a catastrophe. My parenting is sustainable, green, streamlined, and easy in many ways.
Given a situation in which I did not have access to disposable diapers, or washers to clean cloth diapers, we would still do just fine with Natural Infant Hygiene (EC). If you take away electricity and clean water from a tap, I could still breastfeed my son . . . even if I had to take in contaminated water and suffer through the diarrhea, my breast milk would still be the perfect food for my baby. As long as I can find a piece of cloth (tablecloth, bedsheets, etc.), I can nurture my baby hands free and on the go.
“Babywearing” is a lot of things to a lot of people. It is a closeness and a bond which helps breastfeeding, a convenience for a mother or caretaker, a safe space for a baby, and in many women’s lives all over the world, it’s just how things are done. Babywearing is a useful skill to have, everyday or in an emergency, and it will not “spoil” your child simply because your baby is built to be carried and will thrive best held close to you.
Sometimes it’s as simple as the fact that I slipped and fell twice on the ice this winter. Both times my son was on my back and didn’t touch the ground. If he’d been in my arms, I could have dropped him as my reflex to catch myself flung my arms out. I could have fallen onto him. He could have been hurt badly, but riding safely on my back, he was merely jolted and surprised.
Finally, a last note on the benefits of babywearing (reproduced with author’s permission), in response to the question “Do you remember the moment you fell in love with babywearing?”:
Do you remember THE moment?
For me it was when the girls came home from the NICU (at 4lbs each) and for the first time I realized I had to keep them happy and our 16 month old entertained. What a huge job! I had bought a Moby, but hadn’t done much with it so I took it out and popped both girls into it. All of a sudden I could keep them happy (and close to me) and make lunch for Colin, color, entertain – all the things I couldn’t do otherwise!
But I have to say that the moment that I will always remember was when I realized that wrapping saved Teagan’s life (and no, I’m not being melodramatic.) She was 3 months old and had been home from the hospital for a month with her sister. That night I had been feeding her and she didn’t seem hungry, but was very fussy. So I wrapped her (something that had always calmed her before.) Still she was crying. Then I heard it – a slight wheezing when she took a breath. I didn’t think too much of it and went downstairs with her still wrapped.DH came in from mowing the lawn and I told him about the fussiness and wheezing and we called the NICU to talk to our favorite nurse and ask for advice.
She heard Teagan wheeze (I put the phone up to Teagan’s face) and told us to bring her in immediately. We brought her to the ER where she was diagnosed with Group B Step Bacterial Meningitis. (It was a form of group B that she had picked up somewhere other than birth since if it had been birth related it would have shown up much sooner.) This particular form of Meningitis is very deadly and very fast. By the time we got her to the hospital they told us if we had waited another half an hour she would have had major brain damage – another hour and she would have been dead. We spent 3 weeks in the hospital with her (DH and I rotated time at the hossy 24-7 for those 3 weeks.) I was nursing Meg and pumping for Teagan or vice versa, so it was challenging to say the least.
Now, I can honestly say that I wouldn’t have thought much of the fussiness if it hadn’t been for wrapping. Since I knew she was comforted by that and when she continued being fussy even wrapped, that was the first clue something was wrong. The symptoms for Meningitis are very vague in babies – refusing to eat and fussiness. So wrapping definitely did save her life. Today she’s completely healthy (they had warned about all sorts of wonderful complications that could arise from bacterial meningitis – not the least of which was brain damage, joint damage and hearing loss).
So that’s what I think of when I look at my stash. How wonderful it is to be able to hold your baby so close and really get to know them. It was another few months before I found the wonderful world of woven wraps, but my Moby did the job just fine.
Oh – and Teagan is now the one who gets SO excited when a new wrap arrives! She always runs over to the box and says “a new wrap – for ME??!!” Meg doesn’t let me wrap her much anymore, but Teagan still loves it.
