Maybe Moby?

When I got pregnant, I had set out a game plan of ideals. One of my main goals was to have a natural childbirth -- clearly that did not happen. Another one of my goals was to wear the baby as much as possible. I thought it would be so easy to just sling Little on my chest, wrap him up and go about my normal life. Well, just like my birth, life threw a curve ball. I gestated a child who hates swaddling (unless under extreme duress) and despised all forms of child carriers including the famous Moby wrap that apparently is loved by all babies and parents. The first time I put Little in the Moby he howled. The second time he screamed as though I were prodding him with hot pokers. The third time, well, it took us an hour to calm him down. I'm not one for giving up, but needless to say, the Moby went on a high shelf never to be touched again. 

The galling thing about his reaction to the Moby is that it places him in the exact upright position in which he loves to be held. For some reason, after two weeks of avoiding it, I decided to pull the wrap off the shelf today to give it another try. I wrapped it a little looser than usual and slipped him in with hardly a whimper. After a minute or two, he realized he was being confined, so I popped in the pacifier. It worked like a charm. He tolerated it for about 15 minutes then began to rooting around to be fed. I nursed him and slipped him right back in and he passed out for a catnap. In fact, I'm blogging while baby-wearing -- how very new age mom of me.