Finding Harmony in the Wrap: A Father’s Journey into Babywearing

home insemination Kit

“I’m either the coolest or the quirkiest dad around,” I remark.

“The wrap is cool, but you’re still a dork,” my partner, Lisa, quips.

Lisa gently lifts our newborn son, Max, and guides one of his little legs through the fabric draped over my shoulder, repeating the process on the opposite side. With Max snug against my chest in the vibrant green wrap, he fusses a bit before settling in and nuzzling against me. I can’t help but plant a kiss on his sweet little head.

While Lisa’s expert hands make the wrap look effortless, I’m left to my own devices during the week when she’s off to work. YouTube becomes my trusty guide. I type “Moby wrap” into the search bar and press play. A cheerful woman appears, effortlessly demonstrating how to wrap the cloth around her torso while offering step-by-step instructions. When she finishes, her wrap looks like an exquisite piece of art. When I try, however, it looks more like a cat caught in a web of yarn. I hit replay and try again.

Throughout his first year, Max spends a significant part of his day in the wrap. I wear him while cooking dinner, riding the subway, visiting the doctor, walking the dog, and even on trips to the art museum. We take naps together with him nestled on my chest.

Strolling through the streets of Chicago with Max securely strapped to me, I get a mix of reactions—some smiles and others, well, less enthusiastic. The wrap seems to turn me into a canvas for others’ parenting beliefs. Most men shoot me puzzled looks. “Now that’s a real man,” one teenage boy whispers to a friend. Another bearded guy on the corner points and hollers. Even a neighborhood cop stops me to say, “The first time I saw you with ‘that thing,’ I thought you were Middle-Eastern”—not exactly what I expected as a pale, blue-eyed guy with a Southern drawl.

As Max starts solid foods, we decide to check out the new Whole Foods in our area. The gleaming floors and shelves are filled with perfectly arranged organic goodies. We know that afternoon samples are the name of the game. With the wrap, we zip through the aisles, maximizing our tasting experience. I pick up a sample, take a bite, and feed him while he’s still in the wrap. We indulge in everything from juicy cherries to gourmet cheese, tortilla chips, and even some pizza bites. Max can’t get enough of those cherries! I half-expect a manager to kick us out, but honestly, it’s worth the risk.

Most women are impressed by my babywearing skills. “Did you tie that yourself?” they ask. “Yep, I must’ve watched the YouTube video a million times,” I reply. While waiting in line at the airport, a stylish young woman approaches me to chat about the wrap. For ten minutes, she shares her experiences and her pride in avoiding strollers altogether, as if we’re part of an exclusive “babywearing” club. I nod in agreement, feeling a sense of camaraderie.

I didn’t start wearing the wrap to make any sort of statement, but it has turned into a subtle rebellion against the stereotypical masculinity that permeates our culture. It’s my way of rejecting the outdated notion that being a man means being tough and stoic. I am already a man.

Still, I can’t deny that it makes me feel a bit self-conscious. No matter how progressive I see myself, I still worry about others’ opinions. For someone who champions equality in parenting roles, it may sound odd, but defying the hyper-masculine norms of society is no small feat. Those old messages about “looking weak” and “losing your man card” are hard to shake.

I can’t pinpoint the moment I became one with the wrap, but now I can adjust it seamlessly to accommodate Max’s growing weight, which in my mind makes me a Jedi Master in the babywearing realm. I’m even toying with the idea of making my own YouTube tutorial.

Now that Max is 17 months old, I dread the day he outgrows the wrap. I’ll miss his little body pressed against mine, his tiny hands tugging at my face, and those little feet kicking away. It feels like the beginning of his gradual journey toward independence.

Recently, I strapped him in for a long walk in the park. About halfway through, my shoulders started to ache; the lightweight fabric just can’t handle his growing size anymore. I know the days of the wrap are numbered. But I’ll hold onto every moment until the very end.

For more parenting insights, check out our other posts, like this one on home insemination kits and learn about fertility boosters at Make a Mom. For additional resources on family-building options, visit Resolve.

In summary, wearing Max in a wrap has transformed my experience as a father, challenging societal norms while deepening our bond. Whether it’s navigating grocery stores or exploring the city, this journey has been filled with joy, awkward moments, and a newfound appreciation for babywearing.