Tue 6 Oct 2009
Before my own lovely daughter was born, I used to look with I-hope-not-too-thinly-disguised pity upon mothers who lugged their babies around in car carriers and giant strollers. I would watch them try to maneuver around post office queues and waiting rooms with their SUV-like strollers or awkwardly shift a heavy carrier from hand to hand while balancing three other bags and opening a heavy door (yes, I did open the heavy door for them if possible). That will never be me! I thought. It all looked like a lot of rigmarole for just a tiny baby. I was given a really nice ergo baby carrier and bought another wrap, envisioning myself threading easily down supermarket aisles and through crowds of people with my baby happily nestled against me.
Now, I too, have become a plastic-equipment-lugging mother. And yes, it is just as awkward and cumbersome as it looks. But Abigail is so not into holding perfectly still and nestling against my chest where her view of the world is obscured. She loves to be held but she has to position herself just so. And three minutes later, she has to reposition herself just so again, only in a totally different spot. She likes to see my face, hear my heartbeat, and get a 180 degree view of her surroundings, preferably all at one time. She has figured out that if she leans way over so her head is partly on my breast and partly on my arm, looking up, she can accomplish this. But that is not comfortable for long, and you can’t do it in a baby carrier. So, I put her in one of her carriers, and she is quite happy for three minutes… then the shrieks and wild thrashings begin. Alas. I’ll keep trying for awhile, and save the baby carrier experiments for walks at home. In the meantime I’m getting a little muscle definition on the ole triceps, a vision not seen since… well, has there ever been such a sight?