I swore I would never be one of ‘those’ people.
I’m hardly what you’d call an earth mother. I stopped breastfeeding after less than two weeks, and I’ve never been averse to frisbeeing the odd biscuit towards Teddy’s face to keep him quiet. When I weaned him, I used puree pouches when we were out and about to save time. I’d sooner eat my own left leg than use cloth nappies.
When I was pregnant, I thought that attitude would translate entirely to ‘babywearing’. I even scoffed at the word. Hippy-dippy claptrap, I thought. Why give it a fancy title? It’s just wrapping your baby up in a complicated piece of material and thinking you’re it.
We decided we’d get some kind of baby carrier – just a cheap one, but definitely a structured one with plenty of reassuring buckles, clips, velcro, whatever it took to keep the baby firmly strapped on. I wasn’t really keen on the idea at all, but having to rely on public transport to get around, and our local train station being up four flights of stairs with no lift, I thought it could come in useful.
The first time I bit the bullet and strapped Ted in, he was about two weeks old. And I’ve not really looked back since. Over a few posts, I’m going to discuss my adventures in babywearing – I’m going to review a few different slings and carriers, and explain just how they’ve made my life so much easier since I became a mother.