the dirty truth

I am tempted to write regaling my success and adoration with cloth diapering. I read lots of mommy blogs that do so, but my experience is quite different.

So, enjoy. Here is my unadulterated, no holds barred, and quite filthy description of the task.

To begin, a quick overview of the positives. Using cloth is cost efficient* and gives me excuses to indulge in other luxuries...like chocolate, and red wine. It also makes me feel eco-conscious...and a little less guilty when I don't spend the 15 minutes it takes to rinse my jar of peanut butter so it can go in the recycle bin. And I'm really looking forward to the day when wearing cloth "clicks" with my toddler and he comes up to me and says, "Hey mom. This cloth makes me feel my wetness a lot sooner than those lousy disposable diapers. I think I'm ready to go use the potty all on my own."

So until that day, my experience consists mostly of praying he will poo in his overnight diaper (which is disposable, I only CD about 70% of the time***) so I don't have to deal with the messiness that ensues after the cloth diaper poo. Yes, it's nice when toddler makes a nice, sturdy terd that flicks gingerly into the toilet, but for all the times that's not the case, I find myself averting swear words like none other.

And to this scenario, a calm, poised CD momma would respond, "Well haven't you installed one of those diaper sprayers to your toilet, to help spray the mess into the toilet?"

Why yes, I have!

And it's nasty! If I manage to find the correct pressure to hold down the lever so that I don't spray terd shrapnel into my face and all over the floor, then my next challenge is using the sprayer to direct the load into the water - cautiously trying to avoid little bits passing into the creases and folds of the diaper. That really sucks because then the only way to get the poop balls out is to grab a hold of the other side of the diaper and slooowly dangle it in a way that:
1) the brownish liquid doesn't dribble onto your fingers, or...ew...2) that you don't have to resort to digging it out with a finger.

And after all that, it's time to shove the diaper into the hanging cloth diaper holder. Except, it's zipped shut. Now I have to manage to figure out how to unzip it while holding the poop-stained, and now sopping wet diaper with two contaminated hands. This is not a pretty, nor sanitary, sight.

Is it better to try to unzip the zipper with my teeth and avoid touching it with my contaminated fingers?

Or, is the bag already contaminated by a previous diaper which would then cause me to ingest feces bateria???

Sigh.

*Cost-efficient until you realize that in the whole 22 months since your kid has been born that some genius went and invented diapers far cuter and way more effective than the diaper lot you scrimped and saved to purchase. Which at this point you then decide that the diapers you purchased are lousy, stretched-out and are giving your kid a rash. So then you try to figure out how to spend enough on one of those cloth diapering websites to achieve free shipping and maybe even, (gasp!) a free nappie**. Before you know it, another $100 has gone out the door. Am I right?

**What's a nappie?


***I still have convictions, even when it comes to choosing a disposable diaper. Seventh Generation and Earth's Best make a zero chlorine, low chemical diaper that doesn't turn to "crystals" or "gel" once your kid pees. And yes, they average about 35 cents a piece if you go out the door and buy them right now. But I wait for the Toys R Us incentives and Fred Meyer Founder's Day sale where I can snag a good cartload at of diapers for $5/pack.

Deservedness

I judge. I do. But I also repent. I have to.

My 19 month old son and I went to a park the other day and though it was drizzly and there was no time to schedule a play-date with other friends, we were stir-crazy so off we went. There was one other family there that morning - both parents with two children about age 3 and 6 and a set of newborn twins. Mom was pushing the twins around in a stroller while dad aimlessly followed his older two around the play equipment.

I scrutinized their interactions.

Dad lit up a cigarette. In between drags, he'd half-heartedley push his daughter on the swing. His eldest son jumped from log to log exclaiming, "Dad! Look!" but dad's eyes drifting to his watch was the only reply. Mom sighed loudly as one of her babies wailed. "I knew we'd regret this," I heard her say.

Regret what? I wondered. The choice to let your kids play outside? Or even having so many kids in the first place?

As the morning went on and I'd been showing my babe how all the play equipment works, the older two kids started following me around. They started asking us silly questions and soon we were all laughing. The dad came over and barked at his kids to leave me alone. "They don't bother me," I replied, but he grabbed them by the arms and pulled them away. A feeling of superiority came over me. Surely, if I am ever so fortunate to be gifted with four children, I wouldn't be as exasperated as those parents. I mean, didn't they notice their kid's delight after just a few moments with an attentive stranger? As I watched them drag their kids to the car, I whispered, "They don't deserve all those kids."

Then, revelation.

Any superiority escaped me as I turned all scrutiny toward myself and my envy. I didn't realize how ashamed I was of my own struggles with being able to conceive, and how that had somehow translated into an issue of deservedness. My envy, a byproduct of my shame, had brought me to judge a set of parents who were likely just overwhelmed in that moment and coping in the best way they knew how. As my grace increased for them, I realized the grace also being extended to me by God, Who I believe loves me.

My heart can be ugly. And I'm glad I don't get what that ugliness deserves. Funny how I thought that my desire to have more children without the intervention of a reproductive endocrinologist, and my supposed greater capacity for patience, makes me more deserving to be a parent.

Truth is....their children are a gift. My son is a gift. All children yet to be born - despite the circumstances or choices of their parents - are gifts. No one deserves to have a child. So thanks to God for gifting us. Fertile or infertile, accidental pregnancies or doctor intervention required, it is God who lends us our children.

And through having a child, He allows me to decide daily - will I react or will I teach? Will I demand certain behaviors of my child or will I live in a way that's exemplary of an integral life? Will I manipulate him with guilt and shame or will I lead him with the big picture in mind? Will I shield him from consequences or will I go before him and reveal that their is joy despite difficulty and that hope comes after despair?

I will approach the hope for future children with gratitude, not deservedness.