Why I Wear My Baby

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The benefits of babywearing are well documented. Worn babies cry less, babies that cry less learn more, therefore worn babies are smarter babies. Babywearing is great for the breastfeeding relationship. It also enables the mother to complete the day to day things while being responsive to her baby. These are all great reasons to wear your baby, but they aren’t the reason I do it. Why I started, maybe, but not why I am so passionate about it now. 

It’s partly because he likes it. Happy babies make happy mommies, that’s simple. But the real reason I wear my baby is because I NEED to. I realized this today as I read of a fellow blogger’s loss of her son. It is a combination of my three angel babies, my dear friends with their own angel babies, and the crushing fear of Big Man’s biological parents deciding to take him back, a fear that will be in the pit of my heart until the adoption is finalized. I am all too aware that these times are fleeting. I will not always be able to wrap my baby tight, breathe in his scent as he sleeps on my chest. Even if tragedy does not befall me, my babies will grow up. Despite what the naysayers think, he will learn how to walk, and he will walk away from me. I will not be wearing him between classes, carrying him around campus. All too soon they will be adults and this will be a distant memory. 

While writing this I was reminded of a poem I read:

Song for a Fifth Child

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

 

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