Why I Will Write for Wraps: The Story

  Nine months ago, I was a high school English teacher pregnant with my fourth child and flailing. My nanny, whom I loved dearly and would have kept for eternity if God would let me, had fallen in love and decided to submit her resignation to move to another state with her beau. I had searched every childcare with a state license in the immediate area and found no openings for one--let alone three children. On top of that, I was five months away from adding a fourth to that mix, and with daycare prices the way they are, we knew some serious decisions needed to be made. My husband and I sat down and looked at numbers, seemingly a lot more negative than positive, and admitted the truth--from this point on, I would only work to afford for someone else to care for our kids. So, the question that laid heavy in the air was If my income can only pay for someone else to watch my children, shouldn't I be taking on that role?

Three months ago, I was a new stay at home mother struggling with irrational fears and uncontrollable rage. Post partum depression, which I had yet to be diagnosed with, was causing me to tear myself and my family apart, tear by tear and scream by scream. I would blow up in the middle of a sentence, and hide in my bathroom for an hour weeping. My husband told me to call my doctor, which is one of a trillion reasons I chose to marry him, and he got off work early to watch the children so I could go in immediately for evaluation. My doctor's question for me was Who is taking care of you?

One month ago, I was an insecure introvert making my best effort to make friends so I would have something to do so I could tell my doctor I really was "taking time for me". A local mom I knew through my daughter's dance class had sent me an invite to join our local Babywearing International group on facebook, and I hesitantly took my four daughters under four to my first meeting with this mom's assurance that she and the other mothers would help me watch them while I learned. Her question to me before I left was Would you like to borrow a wrap?

I did borrow the wrap, and things did get better day by day. I took my medication, played with my children, cooked and cleaned, and kissed my husband when he got home, filled with gratitude that today was a good day. And part of what made it better, what made it doable, was my ability to cradle my sleeping infant daughter against my chest while still having free hands to complete my daily tasks. Though extra money pretty much equated the change in the couch, my husband lovingly allowed me to purchase my own wrap. A Girasol Harvest, size 5. I have no idea what weft, as I had no idea what a weft was at the time I purchased it. But somehow this wrap, the first thing I found the courage to ask for myself since staying at home, was helping me feel like myself again.

Today, I am a stay at home mom who has a slight addiction to wrapping, is a member of more than a dozen babywearing groups, does absolutely no exercise (hey, nobody's perfect!), and handles her post partum depression with the amazing support of her husband, her family, her doctor, and her friends. I created this blog half-jokingly, telling my babywearing friends that since I can't afford the wraps I want, I'll use my writing to supplement my addiction. After all, I have a degree, a background in English education, and some decent writing skills! But in a more serious tone, writing keeps me grounded, it provides me an avenue to share my grown-up voice and use my talents, and it is a therapeutic reminder to take time for me. I realized that maybe I'm not the only mother out there feeling lost somedays, flailing around just trying to survive until tomorrow. Maybe talking about me, about them, about life, might just help them to read it as much as it helps me to write it. So, yes, I am a writer for hire. Perhaps one day someone will put a dollar in the Paypal Tip Jar, but for now I will get to do something I love while being blessed with a chance to stay home and raise my daughters into incredible women while sneaking an hour during naptime to chat with some fellow mothers who love wrapping their babies in love as much as I do. What more could I ask for?