Return of the Sarong

Before Anya was due, a friend had passed me one of her sarong carriers. She swore by it, saying how much she loves using it, that its helps to lift off the weight of carrying her baby & at the same time, encouraging bonding. In fact, she uses it at home sometimes when the boy is fussy - just to comfort him & soothe him to sleep.

I was totally sold. When I got back, I enthusiastically checked up The Internet on various guides as to how to use the sarong carrier. I bookmarked the websites, and even experimented the carrier with a baby-sized stuffed toy.All was good.

Then the real baby came. I remembered using the sarong a number of times when she was still a pimply-faced newborn, mainly to the polyclinic for her jaundice checks and the occasional groceries trip. And boy! I felt a world of a difference from what my friend felt using the sarong carrier!

What bonding is she talking about? All that I felt was... hot, sweaty and frustrated. At least during the process of wearing the carrier & putting her into the carrier.

Then, there was the thoughts that run through my mind AFTER the baby got into the sarong. There would be numerous "what ifs" that passed through my mind every time she is suspended in that carrier against me. I mean, she was a newborn, with literally no control of her neck muscle whatsoever. What if I sprain her neck because my movement was too big?  Or her arms? Or what if she feels uncomfortable with her legs bended in that funny manner? Does she feel warm? Am I doing it correctly? Can she breathe properly or not? (although the website emphasized that they use breathable material) The biggest "what if" of all: WHAT IF I DROP HER?

So, even before Anya turned three months, I threw in the towels, in this context, sarong. In fact, at the very last time I tried putting on the sarong, I took 30 minutes and yet I still could not position her nicely in a way that I deem comfortable & correct. Even though I already had the A/C and fan blasting at us in full speed, both of us were still hot & sweaty (my make-up was merrily melting away). I was frustrated, silently cursing away and I was certain Anya was equally frustrated for she was screaming & crying. That made me swore off that piece of green cloth to the storeroom and never to see daylight again. Ever.

BUT. Well, as the fickle-minded woman that I may be.... Four months passed. Anya outgrew the Baby Bjorn leaving me with no choice but to carry her when I am out alone with her. The last cell meeting that left me with a sore right arm for the next two days got me thinking & reconsidering.

Last week, the sarong carrier saw daylight once again. And again. Thrice in a week, to be exact. The experience this time round is much more pleasant. Now that Anya can hold her neck and sit up on her hold, I use the 'hip carry' instead of the #$%@$ 'cradle hold'. Finally, I can relate to what my dear friend was gushing about. With my baby literally plastered to my body and often contentedly leaning her head against me, the amount of bonding was erm... addictive. Thus, the thrice in a row. Heh.