Nurse, cry, nurse, cry, nurse, sleep, cry, cry, cry.
That’s the sign of a growth spurt. This one came right on time at six weeks. My breasts are paying the price. They feel like they’ve been chewed raw. However, this is where I thank the universe for babywearing. All fussing ceased once I got Baby E snuggled into the Moby wrap. Then we took a walk. We got plenty of stares too.
- What the heck is she wearing?
- Is that a baby?
- I hope that’s a baby!
- Wonder if that’s comfortable…
- All these new-fangled contraptions…what will they think of next?!
- Damn hippies!
Of course, no one said that to me in reality. For all I know they could’ve been wondering why I was wearing sweatpants with flip flops.
I love wearing Baby E. It’s the perfect way to multi-task, which is necessary when you have an infant who doesn’t like to be put down. He gets to snuggle while I blog, eat, shop, etc. This was a lesson I finally figured out after quite a few episodes of taking the bucket carseat into the grocery store then having Baby E wake up and start crying at the top of his baby lungs until I take him out of the seat and dance with him. I had started to master one-handed grocery cart maneuvering. Now I just wear Baby E while I’m in the store and he either sleeps the entire time or looks around in curiosity. It’s comfortable and convenient for both of us. It’s how mothers around the world traditionally carried their babies before strollers were invented. It’s how mothers around the world still carry their babies. It’s kind of easy to feel romantic about the notion of carrying on a semi-lost tradition – especially when it means my breasts get a two hour break during this growth spurt.