My Experience Baby Wearing: The Stuff No One Told Me

Baby wearing isn’t always glamorous.

Mother and babe nestled next to each other, in blissful harmony.

As I write this, my little one is cozy on my chest, in my Solly wrap. Asleep.

But, it took a few minutes for him to settle.

As it often does. 

During my pregnancy, I held the fantastical belief that if I wore my baby, he would always be happy and content. 

No “witching hour” for us. So I thought.

I was ill-prepared for the physical and mental toll, being tethered together with another little human, for eight plus hours a day, takes. 

With my baby strapped to my chest, I feel all the variations of his nervous system.

The highs and lows – overtired, can’t get comfy, overstimulated, peaceful, playful, and at rest.

This is beautiful, yes.

And also exhausting. 

Sometimes anxiety inducing.

Yesterday, as I lifted my angel into the wrap, at 6am, for his first nap of the day (after all night of cosleeping, nursing, and elimination communication), I felt close to a teary meltdown. 

Is there anyone else who can carry him through this sleep?

I scan the dimly lit living room.

We are the only two awake.

Nope. It’s just me.

My neck and shoulders ache.

My stomach feels “off,” and the constrictive wrap is the last thing it wants. 

I can’t get Everest into a comfortable position.

In and out I take him, a couple of times, trying to get us situated.

He’s fussying.

I’m fussying.

It’s messy…

Okay, I’m back.

I paused from writing, this morning, to take my stepson to school.

Now, little Everest is trying to make the transition from wake to sleep again (third nap of the day, in the wrap).

It’s a bumpy journey.

He’s crying.

I’m bouncing. 

He’s looking up at me. 

Those big blue eyes. Pure beauty.

Sweet baby, rest your tired eyes, and go to sleep. And all will be well.

Then the quiet. 

He’s off to sleep.

It’s often only a few minutes of tears, before he drops into rest, but it feels like hours.

His distress on my chest, pierces my soul.

Am I not doing this right? This is so intense.

These are the thoughts going through my head, until his system relaxes. 

He might sleep for thirty minutes, forty, one-two hours, it’s hard to say.

I hunker down, whatever the duration, into “quiet mode.”

Contrary to what’s often touted as a “bonus” to all the amazing health benefits of baby wearing, this isn’t the time when I “get things done.”

Perhaps, it will be for me in another month, or two, or three.

As it stands now, however, my baby is highly sensitive to noise and movement, while asleep.

Today, the sound of simmering ghee on the stove woke him. 

Every baby is different. 

For Everest, hushed tones and very subtle movement is ideal.

Which means naptime is my chance to read, write, or walk (silently) and forget about getting things done around the house – unloading the dishwasher, laundry, cleaning the toilets, etc. (what all the moms on Instagram seem to be doing while their baby catches some shut eye).

I can’t be the only mom who’s baby is a light sleeper?

But,  alone all day with the little one, it feels this way.

The sense that this – being the literal safe resting place for my boy –  isn’t “enough,” haunts me. 

Afterall, there’s nothing to show for how many naps my baby took wrapped around me, today. 

No one sees how deeply he slept, like they can the pile of laundry STILL waiting to be folded.

I know tending to my little one’s emotional and physical well being far surpasses keeping a magazine-tidy home.

However, it’s one thing to “know” that, and another to feel that it’s “enough.”

To accept that for now, baby wearing isn't as productive as I assumed.

Just another one of a million ways, motherhood, is a blow to my ego.

Calling me back to presence.

Beckoning me to surrender all expectations of how baby wearing would feel and what it would accomplish.

Baby wearing, among many aspects of motherhood – breastfeeding, sleep, postpartum emotions – isn’t always a smooth ride.

And that doesn’t mean anything is askew with you or your baby. 

It simply means this is your dance to learn.

Baby wearing is an invitation to listen to your body and baby, and flow as best you can, momma.

Please share your baby wearing story.

You never know, what the momma on the other side of the screen, is facing.

Hearing the variations of other women’s experiences, reminds us we are not alone in this wild mothering ride.

XOXO

Erika