Choice – The Mother of All Responsibility

Make no mistake. Just like you, babies shit. They fart and piss at random and we deal with that by strapping a portable toilet to their arses. That is what a nappy is. It is a place for bodily waste and there are two schools of thought: disposable or reusable. Before I get into it, I have to say I honestly don’t care how you choose to deal with your baby’s shit. Not now, not in the past nor how you think you will deal with it in the future. Your baby, your baby’s shit, your choice. This is not a persuasion piece. I think the reason people are keen to share advice is because it validates their choices. In parenting everyone is terrified of making the wrong choice. But as I’ve delved into this sojourn around blog-land I’ve paused on some of the choices that may have previously passed me by. Maybe it’s the blog, maybe it’s the extra time we have all had this past year. We are lying to ourselves if we say we lost a year. We didn’t lose time, we lost the freedom to choose what to do with it. With less daily distractions we gained more time than we knew what to do with and often that was excruciating. Anyway, dealing with my baby’s shit this past 8 months has, like all things in motherhood been “a journey”. Honestly, it’s no wonder mums are constantly shattered. They are always on a bloody journey. Breastfeeding journey, sleep-solutions journey, weaning journey... Well, this is about my cloth journey. What it has taught me and why I love dealing with my baby’s shit.

Before I had a kid, I didn’t realise so acutely that absolutely everything we do is a choice. Currently my job is to make every single choice for my son without being able to gauge his true feelings on most subjects. Yet, every choice I make for him has repercussions. Like the clothes I choose for him. It surprises me how obsessed people can be about knowing a baby’s genitals, just to choose how to interact with them. Dude or sweetie pie, guns or glitter? Either love, he doesn’t have a clue what any of those things are. My baby looks like a baby. A brilliant beautiful baby who can give you no indication as to what is beneath the nappy. You can’t tell from his eyes or his hair or his hands what is between his legs. I strive not to pigeon-hole him but I have to make choices for him, so I base them on what I like. Yet I don’t dress him in miniature clothes I would choose for myself. Instead, I buy him loads of stuff with animals on it because it feels neutral, safe and I am obsessed with animals. My husband says I’m a budgie away from being an animal hoarder but that is a different blog for a different day. Maybe one day my son will tell me he hates animals and I will fear that he is a serial killer. But I’m open to it. He is his own person after all.

When I was expecting him I tentatively expressed interest in choosing reusable nappies. I didn’t know any other babies who wore cloth but somewhere deep down it felt worth exploring in respect of our planet. I am incredibly easily influenced but my husband is not, so I really didn’t know how it would go. However, one of my husband’s best friends lives in a van, travels across continents and is genuinely in love with our natural world. As the sustainable choice, cloth nappies win my husband some serious cool points in the eyes of his bohemian best friend. It was a short chat.

I called a local cloth nappy supplier who collaborates with our council and gives discount on cloth nappy starter packs. This really isn’t a sales pitch, but if you are interested do check your local council for financial incentives. The outlay is substantial. For this call though, I was primed. In terms of sales leads – I was warm. Truthfully, I was red hot I wanted those cool points so badly. But from that conversation came two things I was not expecting. Firstly, I had massively underestimated what is involved in reusable nappies and secondly, I had much more respect for the role that disposable nappies can play in modern life. The supplier cared about me making an informed choice for my family. She didn’t want to sell me a load of stuff I might not use, that wouldn't have been very sustainable. Her advice was akin to, “Enjoy your pregnancy, do some research and when this pandemic is over come into the shop and look at what’s available. A baby is hard work so take the pressure off and buy some disposables for the first couple of weeks.” It was the best pitch she could have given me.

On her advice, for the first 3 months we used disposables exclusively. We slowly introduced cloth a couple of days a week and now use cloth full time through the day and disposable at night. Every time we choose to put cloth on our baby’s bum, we save one reusable going into landfill. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. A lot of people making a few changes is more powerful that a small number of people aiming for perfection. As someone who has embraced both disposable and reusable, I can honestly say there are benefits to both. I’ll just reiterate. Your baby, your baby’s shit, your choice. I have found that cloth smells better and looks nicer. But I will fight anyone to the death who claims that reusables are just as easy as disposables. Bet you didn’t expect a wannabe hippy to threaten violence? Humans are complex. No-one is just one thing.

If reusables were as easy as disposables that initial call would have gone entirely differently. “This is the product, this is the price, what are your card details?” It didn’t because unlike disposables, reusables offer you choice. Options to suit your circumstances, your baby, your interests. All-in-one, pockets, bamboo, terry, wraps, all-in-two, charcoal, microfibre, PUL, poppers, pins, boosters, liners, tri-fold… It is a minefield. But I have found that the extra effort makes changing my baby’s bum more rewarding. Sourcing the right boosters and trial and error of insert combinations. Folding techniques and fit adjustments. Washing guidelines and drying times. Caring for the fabric that protects my baby against bugs and rashes whilst keeping him comfortable. Reusables take effort and there are lots of questions that simply don’t come up with disposables. But at the heart of reusable nappies is a wonderful, fascinating and friendly group of people who have made a choice to try and protect our children’s future. When you take a bunch of people with similar interests and you put them together (on the internet or otherwise) what you create is community.

This is a throwback to my last blog post where I said it was a myth that babies “need a village”. Babies don’t need a village, mums and dads do. If there is one thing this pandemic did rob new parents of, it was just that. The village, the community, the help. It was my neighbour who supported me to explore cloth. Her baby is about 4 months older than mine and we would meet for clandestine pram walks and talk about blocked milk ducts and those sickly sweet, only a mother could love milky baby farts. She lent me some brands to trial and talked through the options. I fell hook line and sinker for Baba and Boo and everything that they stand for. One of the first nappies I bought is called “Community”. I bought it pre-loved on their inclusive and exclusive Facebook group where members connect or buy, sell and trade. The ethics of the groups are simple. I’ve gone off-piste and I am in no way affiliated but basically - be kind, be fair and when shit happens wrap it in beautiful cloth and call it sustainable fashion.

So what started off as a bid to impress our oldest hippy friend has become my obsession. My husband has likened the endless amount of “fluffmail” we receive to that of a 90s tween collecting POGs. For younger readers, think Pokemon – you gotta catch them all. I get so much joy from lovingly washing them, stuffing them, storing them in various collections like I’m pairing a skirt and top. Perhaps if I wasn’t a lockdown mum I would never have found the time to while away my maternity leave contently stuffing nappies. I expected maternity leave to be all baby yoga and lunch with the gals. Instead it’s been intense and relentless and this little hobby has been my release. It has firmly cemented me into this new role of mum and made me unapologetic in my desire to put all my energy into raising my son. During the twilight months at the end of 2020 when restrictions were lifting and we were part-time cloth I would justify my choice to friends who saw that big fat cloth nappy bum under my son’s clothes. I wasn’t comfortable that this is who I’ve chosen to be now.

I am someone who washes nappies and complains of too many suds in my washing machine. As maternity leave draws to an end, I know that days stuffing nappies in the afternoon nap will soon be over. But I have this smug little feeling in the bottom of my belly that our planet is more than 1000 dirty disposables lighter because of my choice. The cloth nappy community can be a bit holier than thou but maybe we’ve earned it? Hours spent researching and washing and wrapping. Asking, listening. Given that it takes around 500 years for a disposable nappy to decompose I’m happy that my choice will long outlast my mothering years. Unlike the chest of plastic toys that get tidied away each evening. Or the gazillion sippy cups which sprawl from my kitchen cupboards aiming to entice my son to drink from something that doesn’t have a nipple. I’m not perfect and my motherhood isn’t guilt-free. We all make mistakes. One day he will be out of nappies and his shit wont end there. For now though, I’m just a shouty, sweary cloth-bum mum, currently revelling in all the joy of my baby’s shit.