TWINTERLUDES: Cloth Diapering

            Gather ‘round, kids, we’re going to talk about some serious shit!

            During pregnancy, when I told anyone that my husband and I were going to give cloth diapering our twins a shot, I was met with the same reaction: A cringe with a wide-eyed head shake.

            Cloth diapering is a subject that elicits strong reactions both in and out of the parenting realm. Fear of the re-usable diaper spanned across generations and ideologies. Whether I was talking to my grandmother, baby bats, or housewife friends, I was met with that head shake.

            “Oh, god, no, how would you even find the time?” “It’s so messy!” “Why bother spending the money if you’re probably going to drop it in a week?” “Why make things harder for yourself?”

            I have to admit, by the time the babes arrived, I was nervous about trying to cloth diaper. Just like breastfeeding, our decision to attempt it came not from some lofty place of morality or idealism, but financing. As with formula feeding, I crunched the numbers and found that the average twin parents spend somewhere in the ballpark of $4,000 on diapers in the first year.

            Four. THOUSAND. Dollars.

Getting a lot of mileage out of this gif.

            So, yeah, we were going to give cloth diapering a shot no matter how intimidating it seemed.

            The term cloth diapers tend to invoke the image of babies sitting in thin, folded white cotton with a giant safety pin across the front. While that image is certainly still true of a variety of cloth diapers, it’s a bit antiquated. For my grandmother, who diapered her way through five daughters in an era before disposables, that was her reality, which is probably why she tried very hard to steer me away from cloth diapering.

            “It’s very…unpleasant,” she told me, which is Nana Code for it’s fucking disgusting. “You’re going to be so busy with two babies as it is, darling. Don’t make things harder for yourself.”

            Honestly, if cloth diapering still consisted exclusively of a sink full of thin, stained cotton strips, I would have happily forked over my 4k to Pampers with a half-hearted mea culpa to the Earth.

            Luckily for the modern parent, cloth diapers have come a long, long way. The cloth diapers of today bear little resemblance to the image most of us still conjure. While the pinnable cotton fabric ones still exist (they’re now called “prefolds,”) they are one of a variety of types of reusable diaper. In fact, the world of cloth diapering can be a bit intimidating when faced with all the choices you have. My baby-themed Pinterest Board is full of “Cloth-Diapering 101” pins and illustrated lists of the categories of cloth diaper, along with their advantages and disadvantages. As is my wont, I researched the fuck out of this subject once we decided to commit, and I agonized over the multitude of options. What cloth diapering system was best for our family? All-in-ones, which can only be used once before needing a wash, but are the easiest to use? Pocket diapers with inserts for multiple uses? What type of insert? Microfiber? Bamboo? And the sheer amount of conflicting information on the best way to cloth diaper, deviating wildly from Mommy blog to Mommy blog, made me feel even more intimidated. Would the financial gain really be worth all this work? When most parents I spoke with gave up on cloth diapering within a month or two, would it even be worth it to research, plan, and pay the hefty one-time expense? Would we end up wasting more money buying all this shit only to run screaming back to disposables?

            The short answer: Fuck yes, it’s worth it.

            So. Full disclosure: We decided to use disposable diapers while our babes were wearing the newborn size. This was primarily due to my research. I had decided on a particular brand and type of cloth diaper—BumGenius Freetime All-in-One. BumGenius is one of the Kings of cloth diaper brands, and their $20 price tag certainly reflects that. Most sites I studied suggested we have somewhere around 20-30 cloth diapers…per baby. While still a far cry from 4k, $1200 was a lot of money for us to spend up front. And, unfortunately, while many cloth diapers do grow with your baby, they’re often far too big for newborns, especially newborn twins, who are typically smaller than your average babe. Rather than buy 60 newborn-size cloth diapers, use them for a month or two, and buy 60 more of the larger ones, we decided to take the environmental hit and use disposables for the newborn phase.

            I had hoped that as our babes pooped it out in disposables, we would gradually accumulate the crazy-expensive cloth diapers I had decided were the best for our family and be ready by the time they were ready for them. This did not happen. As first-time parents to newborn twins, we found out very quickly that we didn’t have enough of anything—diapers, wipes, clothes, formula. Being new to this, we had no idea how quickly a baby goes through these things, let alone two babes. We had no idea a seemingly giant tin of formula would only last us a week, even with me breastfeeding them as well. We had no idea they would spit-up their way through 3-5 outfits a day. And we had no idea just how much newborn babies go through diapers. Holy fuck. I remember the first time we emptied the diaper genie, only a few days into parenting, and saw the massive amount of balled-up little diapers within. I was horrified and even more resolute in our decision to cloth diaper. I was haunted by visions of landfills full of nothing but dirty diapers, there forever. Seriously, I’m no environmentalist, but the sheer amount of waste disposable diapers create is staggering to see, even in one household.

            Despite my resolve, as the weeks passed and the babes grew, our cloth diaper collection remained…nonexistent. Because we were springing to the store every few days for unforeseen expenses, we just couldn’t spare $100 here and there to drop on a few BumGeniuses. Our collection consisted exclusively of the used cloth diapers a dear friend was kind enough to pass along to us; ten or so diapers of varying brands and types (all-in-ones and pockets.) I was grateful and in love with how adorable they were, but I was also anxious. Smart Bottoms? Alvababy? I didn’t know these brands. My precious research did not approve of these! What if they leaked? What if they caused the stress-bomb-chaos everyone described cloth diapering to be?

            But as the weeks passed and the babes grew and grew, I began to grow more and more anxious. Cloth Diaper D-Day was getting closer, and we were no less broke. Finally, I caved and bought two cheap sets of 6 pocket diapers on Amazon. They were pocket diapers—not our ideal, according to my precious research—and they were a brand I didn’t know, but seemed highly-rated on Amazon. I thought, Fuck it. We need them now. We’ll deal until we can afford the diapers we actually want.

A bit of our stash.

            Finally, in January, the time came. We stuffed microfiber inserts into cloth diaper shells, snapped our babes into them, and hoped for the best.

            One month later, and I have to tell you guys…I really don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Cloth diapers have proven to be no big deal.

            Yes, seriously.

            Okay, for those who are considering cloth diapering their current or future babes, I’ll break down our “process” for you because I had a hell of a time finding a cut and dry, we’ve-never-used-these-before-type of introduction to them.

Type of Diaper: We’ve found that we vastly prefer pocket diapers, which consist of the diaper, often called a “shell” with a fabric pocket in which to stick inserts of varying types.

As I researched while pregnant, I thought the most important thing we needed to look for while cloth diapering was convenience, even at a cost. We were having twins, after all, and I thought it would be best to eliminate any and all extra work. The easier, the better. That’s how I ended up so focused on all-in-ones, even though we’d have to buy more of them. All-in-ones function just like disposables, other than rinsing dirty ones and washing them all. The baby pees, you remove the diaper, toss it in the bin, and put on a new one. Bam. Done until Laundry Day.

I’m very happy that I ended up panic-buying the pocket diapers from Amazon. When it was time to change our first cloth diaper, we unsnapped the shell, removed the microfiber insert, and found that the shell, including the pocket on which the babe directly peed, to be bone dry. We were flabbergasted. What dark domestic witchcraft was this?! How the hell was the inside of the shell, which is soft fabric rather than the obviously waterproof outside, still dry when the insert inside of it was sopping wet? I still don’t know, but I thank whatever spirit lent its black magic to this miracle invention.

We’re typically able to go through two or three wet-diaper changes before we need to change the shell, and that has cut down on costs in a major way. Far from needing to purchase 60 all-in-one diapers, we’ve been able to get away with around 25 and about 40 microfiber inserts. We haven’t tried any other type of inserts yet, but as the babes get bigger and pee more, I’m sure we’ll experiment. Inserts are cheap!

As for all-in-ones, we did inherit a few from my incredibly generous friend, but honestly, we find them to be impractical. One use and we have to wash them. That’s more of a pain in the ass to us than replacing an insert a couple times. It’s all personal preference of course, but pocket diapers work best for us so far in practice, as opposed to the all-in-ones that looked so good on paper.

To be specific, our favourite diapers are Mama Koala, which are only $40 for a set of 6 on Amazon. They come in a multitude of patterns and I am in love.

Fat unicorns. On donuts.

Sooo…How Do You Cloth Diaper?

            For those who don’t understand the step-by-step process of cloth diapering, here it is for our pocket diapers:

1. Stuff an insert into the shell. A lot of people pre-stuff the inserts into their whole collection, but we do not have that kind of time, so we just put them in as we go.

2. Snap baby into diaper.

3. Change diaper every 2-3 hours, or when the insert is super wet. Change by removing and replacing the insert. If the shell feels wet, replace the shell.

5. (skipping 4 for the moment.) Every 1-2 days, wash the diapers in the laundry according to their specific instructions. For Mama Koala, we do cold rinse cycle, hot cycle with detergent, and tumble dry low. Easy.

That’s a Lot of Laundry.

            The fact that you wash cloth diapers every couple days bugs a lot of people. Laundry is work, after all, and newborns are already a lot of work!

            This doesn’t bug us at all, and I think it might have to do with having twins. I don’t know how much laundry parents of singletons do, but with twins, especially with our son’s propensity for spit-up and the fact that they’re both starting to teethe (and, therefore, drool a lot,) we do baby laundry every 2 or 3 days anyway. An additional load of diapers is nothing to us.

Now, let’s talk about the all-important question, the one that steers most people away from cloth diapers: Step 4:

What About the Poop?

            Countless jokes have been made about babies and their propensity for pooping. I honestly thought they pooped constantly because of all the media I had absorbed on the subject.

            As it turns out, after the first month or so, our twins only poop every 2 or 3 days, and usually only once in that day. Therefore, we only have 2-4 dirty diapers a week to deal with (in parent diaper lingo, wet = pee, dirty = poop.)

            Sadly, you can’t just toss a poop-smeared cloth diaper into the bin with the wet ones. You first have an extra step: Rinsing the diaper of excess poo.

            In anticipation of (for? Of? Gods, what’s happening to my grammar in my sleep-deprived state?) this, Hubby and I purchased a cheap rinsing hose we attached to the toilet. All you have to do is hold the cloth diaper over the toilet, give it a quick spray, and you’re done. If you have a sink in your laundry room/basement, you can just use that and toss the diapers right into the wash. For a few days, I couldn’t for the life of me get the hose to work, so I rinsed the diapers in the bathtub. That was gross, and I had to clean the shit (literally!) out of the tub afterward, so I don’t recommend doing that. The toilet hose is easy to install, and impermanent and therefore rental-friendly. 100% worth getting.

But Poop is Gross.

            Dirty diapers seems to be the #1 deterrent for most people who are curious about cloth diapers. And I’m not going to pretend handling another creature’s poop isn’t gross. It is. It’s gross.

            Buuuuut, honestly…

            Being a parent is gross, guys. It’s basically just controlling someone’s body fluids for a few years. Your favourite sweater will get spit-up on it. You will be peed on, especially if your baby has a penis (though don’t count the girls out; our daughter M once simultaneously sneezed and peed while I was changing her and the distance that stream achieved was truly astonishing.) And yes, you will deal with poop. A lot. In depth.

            I have become an expert at cleaning poop out of chubby thigh creases, butt cracks, tiny labia and from under a tiny scrotum. I’ve even had to wash it out of my son’s hair during one truly epic blowout. At this point, using a hose to spray poop into a toilet is barely a blip on my gross-out radar. I know we all have things we’re squeamish about, but it’s truly surprising how quickly one adapts to gross stuff when one becomes a parent.

            For the record, I’m not judging anyone for whom cloth diapering was too much of a pain in the ass. I strongly suspect the fact that my first kids are twins has given me a ridiculous amount of tolerance for tasks I may otherwise have decided were too much work. When you’re already balls deep in laundry, bottles, and dishes you don’t have time to beat back, exhausted from two beastlings napping and fussing in consecutive shifts, and constantly hit with spit up or a stray pee stream, cloth diapering is…child’s play.

            My dad jokes need work.

 

Batman has no time for your gender norms.

Miscellaneous tip I couldn’t fit anywhere else: Cloth diapers are bigger than disposables. I was taken aback by how comically large it made my babes’ little butts. If you want to get into cloth diapers, it may be worth it to buy pants a size up from where your baby is now to give them a bit of room.