This post is contributed by Smart Bottoms' guest blogger, Rachel Barry.
Hi. My name is Rachel, and I am a fluffaholic. My journey with cloth all started when I left my 9-5 job to stay home and take care of my daughter. I was/am a couponer, but I was a major disposable diaper couponer. I could coupon my heart out buying disposable diapers, but there are no coupons for less trash, or the poopsplosions that one experiences when using disposables diapers. In July of 2016 I went to go visit my sister, and while my daughter played innocently on the floor in front of us, my sister quietly and slowly pulled out a cloth diaper to show me. I knew she had cloth diapered some of her children, but it wasn’t a widely-discussed topic in our family. My sister motioned for me to come closer and placed the cloth diaper in my hands. She only had 4 left, in what she called her “stash”, all of them solid colored pocket diapers that had been used on her two youngest children, but she told me to take them home and try them out. She looked at me with a sly smile and a twinkle in her eye, like an animal who just found their next meal, that seemed to imply I was done for.
Slightly scared and intrigued I went home and followed her pre-loved cloth diaper cleaning directions. When my husband wasn’t home I took the clean cloth diapers out and tried them on my daughter. I laughed so hard. Her butt was so big and her pants no longer fit. I put her down, to change her back into her disposable diaper, and started to take off the cloth diaper. To my horror, I saw she had taken the biggest poop I had ever seen in my life. Prepared to say good bye yet again to another new onesie I started changing her, but quickly noticed her onesie was fine. It, like her back, wasn’t covered in poop like it usually was. I put another one of my sister’s cloth diapers on my daughter, laid her down on her blanket to play, and backed away slowly. I sat down at the computer and did something I will never forget. I googled cloth diapers.
Red ones, yellow ones, stripped ones, ones with tacos, unicorns, hook and loop, snap, pocket, all in ones, and the list goes on and on. I could hear Tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture with cannons playing in my ear while I scrolled and researched my next cloth diaper move. The rest seems like a blur. The next weekend I went to my local MommyCon and attended their cloth diapering 101 session. At the MommyCon vendor booths I started adding new cloth diapers to my “stash”. I purchased 4 more diapers and for weeks I survived off of 8 cloth diapers a day and a disposable at night, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
Slowly I started to add cloth diapers here and there when my husband wasn’t looking. It has been slightly less than a year now and I have about 24 cloth diapers. I try very hard to control my urge to purchase a new diaper every day, but my suppliers don’t make it easy. They constantly try to lure me in. I have to walk away from the computer when a new live reveal pops up on my Facebook feed. Sometimes my husband can hear me whispering my mantra’s over and over to myself; “I do not need this one. Save your money for the next one. There is a sale coming soon just be patient.”.
It’s not enough, and I have learned I will never have enough. I have also started to display some usually behavior, per my husband. He showed me my phone's 'camera roll' and pointed out that every picture was of our daughter’s cloth diapers. Sometimes she was in the picture, sometimes not. I also now feel the urge/itch to tell others about the wonders and joys of cloth diapering, and when I start I cannot stop. The look my sister had in her eyes when she introduced me to cloth diapers is now the look I get in my eyes when someone asks me about my daughter’s cloth diapers. I love to tell them about all of the onesie lives they will save from poopsplosions, and all of the trash they will save from going into the landfills.
My husband believes I have turned into Gollum from the Lord of The Rings. Whenever a new cloth diaper comes in the mail and he sees me holding it he whispers in my ear, “My precious…”. If only he knew. So yes, my name is Rachel and I am a fluffaholic, but I am ok with it. 😊
Rachel is mom to one beautiful and rambunctious toddler, and 4 dogs. Her hobbies include dreaming of long walks on the beach while drinking her cold coffee during the day, writing while her daughter naps, and cruising. Her dislikes in life are doing the dishes, cleaning, and laundry. (Except diaper laundry. That’s her favorite. 😊)