Letter to my Daughter: Cloth Diapers
How’s the future? Did you call your parents today? We’re still on for hoverboarding right?
I’m trying this new thing on my blog where I write a letter to you in the future. Today, I’ll be explaining how I became a believer in cloth diapers. We’re on the verge of potty training you so I’m taking this opportunity to reflect on our cloth diapering experience.
I certainly hope you don’t find this embarrassing. I’m kidding. I’m your dad. I’m oblivious to the things that embarrass you. Hey – remember when you were obsessed with your toy burger? You would get really upset if someone tried to take it away from you. You would pretend to eat it but it was made of wood so you would just slobber all over it. No? Don’t remember that one? (You see? Oblivious.)
Full disclosure: Your mother talked me into cloth diapers. The whole process grossed me out. “What happens to the poop?” I thought. I soon found out.
It goes in the toilet with the rest of the waste. It doesn’t go in a plastic bag in your room where it ferments until the bag is thrown out.
Not only are cloth diapers more natural, they’re also more cost-effective and it produces less waste. As for the, “It’s Gross” argument against cloth diapers, how can changing a diaper, cloth or disposable, not be gross? Right?
My conversion began when we attended a wedding in Calgary. You were about 6 months old and looking incredibly cute in your dress. You were well behaved too. Our perfect little angel. We were travelling and didn’t have access to a washing machine so you were in disposable diapers.
We were into the main course of the wedding reception when we sensed something. We smelled it, but your mother and I didn’t want to believe it. This wasn’t anything rare. You were a baby and you pooped all the time when we were out of the house.
This wasn’t a normal poop. It was what parents call, “a blowout.” It’s when babies poop so much that the diaper overflows. I’ve had to clean up a blowout or two myself and it’s not a pleasant experience. It gets everywhere. You can’t have too many wet wipes. I would use a hose if I could. Your mother was kind enough to take care of cleanup so that I can listen to the adorable wedding speeches from her aunt and uncle. Yeah, it didn’t make much sense but I didn’t argue.
When you returned, you were fresh, clean and in a new dress. We had to borrow it from your cousin because the dress you were in was soiled and your parents, like amateurs, didn’t bring a spare.
Since then we’ve had to deal with some of your massive poops. Poops so big we were baffled at how it was housed in your tiny body. I’m proud to say that not once have we experienced a blowout in a cloth diaper. That’s enough to convince me that cloth diapers are the way to go.
It wasn’t my idea to begin with, and I never thought I would be a cloth diaper dad, but that wedding in Calgary made me a true believer.
I hope you enjoyed that story from your infancy. I promise not to talk about your business anymore. No wait – that’s not true. It’s almost potty training time!