I hope by this point in my blog you all know I’m addicted to cloth diapers. Like, in a very unhealthy, very fluffy way. So I’m guest blogging today over at NAMAmmaSTE where my girlfriend Erika blogs. We’ve been friends since we were 6. And she still likes me – so that says something.
It’s a post on why I started cloth diapering, how I did it with a newborn, what diapers I fell in love with.
When I got pregnant, cloth diapering was the furthest thing from my mind. I couldn’t imagine anything more horrifying than having poop waiting to be washed.
At about 20 weeks pregnant, my Dr. needed someone to watch her kids during the week. She mentioned that she cloth diapered, and I vaguely remembered that my mom had used them with my little brother. I thought of big, chunky pins being pushed through layers of cloth, pulling it towards you so you didn’t stab the poor kid, and ended up stabbing yourself instead. I was not thrilled but figured a few weeks of doing that wouldn’t kill me.























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