Family Living

By Suzanne Myron

My husband and I had our only son, Samuel Alexander, 13 months ago during a mild New England winter at the local hospital. The labor nurse laid him on my chest to nurse. He looked into my eyes, and I was unable to remember a time when I had felt more proud.

Sam was noticeably active and alert from the start. Each little movement from his tiny body overjoyed us. My husband and I knew we could not bear to put him in day care. During my short maternity leave, I decided that somehow I was going to find a way to be home with him. At that time, my husband and I were on a less-than even keel, however, in terms of our finances. Due to the volatility of the high-tech job market, he was unemployed. Thus, I had worked full-time right up until I felt the first pains of labor. It was decided that he would stay home with the baby. I returned to work in tears at six weeks. I knew, though, that he was in the most loving possible environment with the best person I knew.

In another six weeks my husband had found a new job ("This is HARD - how do you do it?"). I quit my own in haste and without ever looking back. I knew challenges lay ahead, and I was prepared to meet them.

It was not long, then, until I felt totally rewarded for making that choice: my son was a bouncing, smiling, outgoing child, who adored people of all ages. Sam hated the confinement of our small two-bedroom apartment. I knew I needed to get out for his sake (as well as for my own sanity).

I now found myself in a difficult situation. The year before, my husband and I had given my old 1988 VW Fox to a charitable organization. This effectively left me without any wheeled transportation except for his rusting mountain bike.

Months went by. I continued to try to get outside daily with Sam. On occasion, we took the bus around town. Other times, Sam and I drove my husband to work and borrowed his car for the remainder of the day. This could be difficult, however, especially since his new job required a three-hour-a-day commute.

Just when I thought my arms would fall off from overuse, things changed. While browsing through a local baby shop one day, I began chatting with the store's proprietor. I told her about my problem. She confided, "When my child was a newborn, I put her in a sling. It left my hands free to do other things. We never even needed a stroller."

Convinced, that day I bought a sling and tried it. It felt awkward to me at first. After an initial, but brief, crying spell, Sam settled into it and went to sleep.

Thus began a joyous journey, which has been ongoing. From the age of 1 1/2 to 6 months, the sling was used almost daily. With Sam bundled like a papoose, I walked both of our dogs through a nearly snowless winter. When spring arrived, he took in, for the first time, the sight of green grass and pastel-colored crocuses peeking out of the still-cold ground. In the summer he often went in a T-shirt and diaper, barefoot, his feet tucked under him, Native American-style.

On fussy, cranky days it was often the only thing that soothed him - even better than the swing someone had given us for our baby shower. I took him on the bus and the sling provided a ready made "bus seat." On walks around town, he charmed shopkeepers and passersby with his ready smile and obvious joy at being cuddled. Just showing him the sling would bring a happy smile, as of course he knew we were going to do something fun, and he would be able to see it all from his high vantage point!

By 5 months of age, we went from the cradle hold to the kangaroo carry position (forward facing, legs crossed) as Sam gained control over his head. He enjoyed sitting like this until he was 10 months old, when his heavy-headed, tall torso flopped so far over it made it impossible to continue in that vein without him falling out of the carrier altogether.

At one point, I delightedly realized that the combination of upper body and aerobic exercise had resulted in a 10-pound-plus weight loss over my pre-pregnancy weight. I marveled at how much easier it was for me to lift my son with well-developed arms. I was still nursing, and the combination of daily (weight bearing!) exercise and on-demand nursing was sometimes tiring. I consulted a naturopathic doctor, who told me I had to eat extra protein, take double doses of vitamins, and pay attention to my fatigue levels. So I made sure to build in one day a week - usually a Friday - to do nothing but small tasks around the house and apartment which did not require lots of energy, such as laundry or vacuuming, and allowed Sam to play quietly by himself if he chose.

Some people think we are crazy. "I can't imagine not having a car," another mom from my playgroup said. "How do you stand it?" I assured her that while it had its drawbacks, it also had its benefits. While I had to factor in extra time for bus travel and/or walking, there were many positives. I had let go of other worries that had become an everyday reality for many busy parents. I did not have to worry about car seat safety issues. My baby did not have to sit backwards, staring queasily into the front of strangers' cars, while at the same time unable to see the person whom he trusted most, let alone maintain meaningful communication of any type. Finally, it is also difficult, if not impossible, depending upon the type of seat, to nurse a baby in a car seat. It can be done in a sling, however, with the added benefits of privacy and warmth.

We have sung, we have bounced, Sam has held the dog's leash, and I have showed him the fire station, plucked leaves from tall oaks for him to play with, and we have gone where no stroller has gone before.

"What a good baby!" some grandmothers remarked, stroking his soft, smiling cheek, after seeing Sam for the fifth time, still straddling my left hip in his sling at one year old. "You're so lucky!"

I am lucky. God has blessed me with a son who is healthy, loving and curious. Recently, my husband asked me if I regretted giving up my old car, my first, and the freedom that goes with it, in order to stay home with Sam. I do not. Sam and I have our tough times, but mostly every day is exciting, and I don't feel I have sacrificed anything to be with him, least of all a four-wheeled metal machine that has no heart and cannot hug me back.

Suzanne Myron is a freelance writer and mother of one very active 13-month-old toddler.