The scene in the hospital is idyllic: My husband and I admire
our precious 10-pound son as he lies in his plexiglass bassinet.
He was born just hours before and already shows signs of being
a genius. The perfect baby begins to cry. "He probably needs
a change," I say, completely zoned on narcotics.
My husband's face crumples in panic. "What do I do?" he
asks.
"Change him," I reply.
"How?" he pleads. "I've never changed a baby before." He
runs screaming for the nurse.
Within a day, my husband becomes a diaper-changing expert.
By the time our boy is toilet-trained, we will have changed
at least 7,000 diapers.
Nearly a year into babydom, we have confronted the diaper
dilemma shared by guilt-ridden new parents everywhere: Do
you go for convenience (disposable) or righteousness (cloth)?
Or are the two equally evil? As if rearing a newborn weren't
fraught with all the anxiety in the world, parents also
have to reconcile environmental impact.
When I was pregnant, there was no question in my mind that
cloth diapers were the way to go. I like to think that we're
a socially responsible family, especially when it comes
to the environment. We recycle, use mass transit and maintain
a chemical-free yard. The thought of using disposable diapers
for two to three years seemed unconscionable. And I wanted
soft, natural cotton next to our baby's velvet-soft behind.
Laundering your own diapers is probably the cheapest approach,
but it's also the most hideous. Newborns use approximately
80 cloth diapers a week; thank goodness for affordable diaper
services.
We chose ABC, Babyland's discount service that offers slightly
frayed cloth diapers at a lower price than their regular
service. A week before my due date, the diaper-service truck
delivered our starter kit: a new diaper pail, two pungent
deo-disks, three newborn-size diaper covers and a week's
supply of diapers. I shook the clean, stacked diapers out
of the big plastic garbage bag onto the bed. Then I spent
several dreamy minutes folding the diapers into thirds,
then in half, and placing them in perfect rows on the changing
table. I hummed, I smiled. It was the only time I ever did
that.
Once our baby was home, we put a plastic bag of dirty diapers
on the front porch every Tuesday night, right after NYPD
Blue. By the time we woke up Wednesday morning, a bag
of clean diapers had replaced the dirties. The diaper pail
started smelling funky about Monday, but it was winter,
so it wasn't too bad (those buckets are reportedly unbearable
during the hot summer months). The system seemed nearly
flawless--for a while.
According to the 1999 Whole Parenting Guide, 80
percent of parents use disposable diapers. Even the most
environmentally conscious parents use disposable diapers
once in a while. A "dispo" is much more convenient to use
when you go out. It lasts for hours and it's easier to throw
the dirty offender in the trash than wrap it up and carry
it back home. Babies love wearing cloth diapers--until they
get wet. Then they demand a dry one, instantly. Dispos can
absorb wetting after wetting; the wicking lining keeps baby's
behind clean and dry.
It's like heroin. You try a dispo once because you've heard
it makes life beautiful. And it does. You vow you won't
use one again, but you can't help yourself--all you want
is a little rest. Before you know it, you're rifling through
your coat pockets and couch for money to run out to Freddy's
at 11 pm for Huggies. Then you find out about those people
who deliver dispos right to your door with one simple phone
call.
So what if I was trashing the planet? I couldn't help but
agree with Ariel Gore, founding editor of hipMama
magazine and the voice of Generation X mothers. "Screw that
whole thing about ruining the environment," she declares.
"How come new moms are in charge of saving the planet? Everyone
else gets to drive cars and have oil spills and use styrofoam
cups, but the big thing is disposable diapers. They say
it's better for the baby's butt to have cloth diapers, but
only if you change it every 15 minutes. And that bucket
in your home for a week? I was not down with that,"
she remembers.
Gore did try biodegradable dispos. "Totally leaky and expensive,"
Gore reports. "Finally I just gave up."
Of course, it's hard to get the straight poop on whether
cloth or disposable diapers are worse for the environment,
because both industries paid for dueling research studies
that came up with different results. The dispo-sponsored
study reveals that diaper services use excessive levels
of water, chemicals and detergents in all that washing;
the delivery trucks burn fuel and pollute the air; and cotton
growers use heavy pesticides. Diaper services harp upon
the environmental impact of 16 billion disposable diapers
in the landfills every year, which, besides creating mountains
of trash, may include groundwater contamination and rodent-borne
diseases spawned from feces.
If my baby could talk, he would tell me he prefers neither
cloth nor disposable diapers. He would rather be naked.
We can't really consider this option. Cloth diapers are
great if you never leave the house, never put your kid in
day care, do nothing all day but change diapers, and don't
care if you have to get up three times a night. Disposable
diapers are the sane choice, but the guilt doesn't go away.
The solution may be persuading disposable-diaper manufacturers
to come up with an inexpensive, biodegradable, disposable
diaper that works.
Now, let's talk about those big plastic boxes of synthetic
disposable baby wipes...
The price is right? A package of 44 Huggies Supreme
is $13.99. Tushies--organic-cotton, gel-free diapers--cost
$12.95 for 30 (at Nature's Fresh Northwest). Diaper Express
Home Delivery brings 180 dispos to your doorstep for $32:
287-0789. Basic cloth diaper service per week: Tidee-Didee,
$12.50: 777-3856; Valley Diaper Service, $12.25: 1-800-238-2229.
Babyland (280-2229) and ABC (280-0511) have been experiencing
service backups, which they hope to have cleaned up soon
(see Rogue of the Week).
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Willamette Week | originally
published October 6,
1999
|
