She looked so small. And further away from us down in that contraption than she’d ever been. After five minutes or so she fussed and fretted so I got her out and, perched on a garden wall, I fed her. And carried her home under my waterproof coat. Fortunately the pram was a hand-me-down, given to us by a friend. We didn’t use it again.
When the hectic hustle of all those early visitors finally quieted, and paternity leave was over, I was left alone with a baby who just wanted to be held and fed. So every day I wrapped the endless lengths of the ‘stretchy wrap’ around me like the NCT lady had shown us, and snuggled her in against my chest. Where she slept. For hours. Day after day. Safe and content, as close to her mother, her milk and her old womb home as she could get.
So slings became our thing.
And now here we are with two babies. Luna on my back: she’s a big girl now – aged two, and will tell you so herself. She gets a good view from up here. But she’ll likely still snuggle her head into my neck and drop off for a nap. Willow’s on my front: eleven months, and walking by himself – but not now…now he’s fast asleep on my chest.
Slinging: your arms are free to do stuff; you can can go in shops, through narrow gaps, and across uneven ground to your heart’s content. It’s one big, long cuddle with your baby. And babies love it.
The sling’s the thing.