Do Cloth Nappies Work In The Real World?
Article published in www.daisygreenmagazine.co.uk this week!
At 36 weeks pregnant with my third baby, my sister called me and announced she was going to send me some cloth nappies to trial when my new son arrived.
I tried to sound politely interested, but mentally filed in the ‘yeah right, too much work’ bin.
Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to be the greenest parent I could be. I had used ‘eco-disposables’ with my first two children. I searched out baby toiletries full of nice natural ingredients and no sodium laureth sulfate.
I used to hang out at the Green Baby shop in Islington, swooning over the organic, fair-trade moses baskets and swaddling blankets. I religiously bought local, seasonal organic veggies to puree for my precious babies’ first foods… Oh yes, I wanted to be green, and organic and the best mummy I could.
But cloth nappies? Purlease. Soaking, pinning, washing and drying? No thanks. I was a mummy of the Noughties, not the Fifties.
I had been a career girl, an ex-advertising exec with a shoe collection to prove it. I wasn’t about to start spending my days swishing poo soup in a bucket.
Baby arrived. Blissfully, at home, in water (another story). And the cloth nappies arrived too.
Cute, they were. Teeny tiny, soft little things, shaped just like a disposable nappy, and not much bigger either. They fastened with Velcro or poppers. Kind of easy, actually. And very fabulous patterns on the outside. Soft and furry, with Dalmatian spots all over them. One with little sailing boats all over it. Daddy liked this one. Another with the Very Hungry Caterpillar and his cherry pie round the waistband. I liked this one so much I took pictures of the new arrival in it to send to my sister.
Performance-wise, no major leaks. And best of all… poo explosions kept under control. No right-up-to-the-neck mustard poo accidents. Literally, none, which was an unexpected bonus.
And then, revelation! Washing was easy. No soaking at all! No poo soup!
I popped the few I had in the washing machine with some dirty towels and dishcloths. Washed at 30 degrees with half my normal amount of liquid, and they came out completely clean, smelling lovely, and ready to dry and use again.
I couldn’t believe it… how had I been so stubborn and foolish about this for so long? These would save me a fortune (mentally I bought the shoes a £500 saving over 3 years would bring me).
I would also be rid of that awful nagging guilty feeling I had every time I wrapped up a soggy piece of paper (and sometimes, chemicals) in a small plastic nappy bag and threw it away.
And so it began… scouring the internet for more of these amazing things with their funny names: Fuzzi Bunz, Cushie Tushies, TotsBots, Bimbles and Bumhuggers… where to start with purchasing more? Which should I buy next?
Before I knew it, a full-blown addiction had developed. Non-parents, and non-cloth nappy users will think I have truly lost my marbles here. Let me tell you, though, that there is little in life more satisfying of some long-buried deeply-held maternal instinct, than wrapping your precious little one’s soft and pure little bottom, in an equally soft and pure fluffy nappy.
A quick google search of some of the cloth nappy forums will confirm that this is a properly addictive pursuit. As I realised, after I moved on from plain old (but still adorable) fluffy bamboo nappies, to tracking down one-of-a-kind sumptuous, cushiony, hand-embroidered items made from organic bamboo velour. As a friend put it, “wearing one of those must be like peeing into a pillow”.
But addiction aside, the rational side of me became more convinced, the more searching I did too. I realised that some of my assumptions about the disposable versus cloth nappy debate had been misinformed.
For example, for years, I had kept in the back of my mind the Environmental Agency report that had apparently found little difference in the environmental impact of disposables and washable nappies. Any time my sister had mentioned cloth before now, I had cited it to her.
But now, having actually done some research of my own, I found to my shame, that it wasn’t what I thought. It’s a complicated subject, for another time, perhaps, but the sum of it is this:
The environmental impact of a disposable is fixed.
But you can lower the impact of a washable nappy substantially by laundering them normally.
That is, mainly at 30 degrees, line-drying wherever possible and not ironing.
(I only mention the ironing, because it’s one of the key assumptions in the EA report. Let me assure you though, nobody irons modern cloth nappies – it’d melt the waterproof layer in most of them for a start)
However, we aren’t saints, by any means, and we do use disposables still. But our general philosophy on this, and all green issues is that every little helps.
Even just one single cloth nappy a day will save on average over 1000 disposables going to landfill. We did our own little survey on cloth nappy users, and almost everyone uses the odd disposable alongside their reusables, to a greater or lesser extent.
Disposables can be a great solution when you’re in a fix. Stuck in a jam on the way to the grandparents? Sure, bung a disposable on.
But they don’t have to be used all the time, 24/7/365. Just as we buy kitchen towel paper, and fabric dishcloths too, there’s no reason why we can’t use both types of nappy interchangeably… even though the fabric nappy is more cost-effective, and arguably more environmentally-friendly too.
The whole reusable nappy market is seeing a new resurgence since the advent in the last five years of these amazingly functional, and beautiful modern cloth nappies, that are comfortable, cute and incredibly easy to care for.
And the dreaded extra washing? Well, honestly, I barely notice it. A family of five generates a lot of laundry, and the nappies are the least of it.
I guess I would say that though, since as a result of our own search for clear information and the ultimate reusable nappy, we started our own online reusable nappy boutique: www.cheeksandcherries.co.uk.
If you have a baby, or are pregnant, try just one, though, and make your own mind up.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you though.
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