Cult of the cloth

I thought I could quit any time, but the ladies of the Diapering Board had me in their thrall.

By Lisa Moricoli Latham

Nov 22, 1999 | To most mothers, the Diaper Genie is a modern miracle: a diaper pail that twists used disposable diapers into plastic sleeves to contain the smell. When I see one, all I can think of are hermetically sealed poop sausages. Long before my son was born, the question of diapering him was opened by a generous friend who offered me her Genie. Without thinking, I declined. But why? Did I want to experience baby poop's full perfume?

Somehow I'd made an unconscious decision to use cloth diapers. This was fortunate, because if I had been conscious, I'd have had my friend hit me on the head with the Genie for even considering it. As another pal and mother of three put it, "How could you use cloth when disposables have all those wonderful perfumes and dyes?! Don't you realize that disposable diapers are only a problem for the next generation?"

Naturally, as an inexperienced mother, I thought I knew better. Since the parenting books I had were of no use on the subject, I hit the Internet. Now, there's no one more anxious than an expectant mother, except perhaps an expectant mother on the Internet. Pregnancy might not be the best time for instantaneous, 24-hour access to thousands of obstetric and pediatric horror stories, but few souls are brave enough to challenge a bloated third-trimester mother-to-be when she wants infant rash statistics at 4 in the morning.

A quick search landed me on a bulletin board inhabited solely by "Clothies," where I discovered I was not alone in my disdain for the Genie. I discovered, in fact, that there's currently a mini-resurgence in cloth diapering, due in part to the popularity of "attachment" parenting manuals, but also attributable to the Internet's ability to foster niche interests.

Diaper manufacturers say that the use of disposables is at an all-time high; but somehow dozens of new cloth-diapering suppliers are starting up and thriving all over the Internet. So, while this movement may not have captured the hearts and bottoms of a great percentage of Americans, it still represents an opportunity for profit.

Despite the fact that cloth diapers are among the top parenting recommendations made by Tightwad Gazette, the best materials are expensive. The good news: Modern designs with Velcro and snap closures mean you don't have to stick yourself with pins anymore -- unless you really want to. The bad news: Progress comes at a price. The new "fitted" cloth diapers can run to $10 or more apiece -- and you need three or four dozen in each size, plus covers.

Luckily, you can resell them on what I like to call the used-diaper "brown market," for up to 50 percent of their retail value, unless they're a favorite small-company design, which increase in value when supplies run low. Since disposable diapers cost about $1400 a year for up to three years, cloth lovers can shop all day and still call themselves frugal, but only as long as they're willing to discount the labor in washing, folding and shopping.

Sadly, they all are.

As I mentioned, if I'd known how complicated the whole issue was going to be, I'd have signed a few grand over to Huggies somewhere in my ninth month and, uh, disposed of the question.

But I was not that lucky. No. Instead I found the Diapering Board ladies. Like many women's groups organized around duty and biology instead of experience, this group was at first charming, and then, chilling.

The first night I clicked onto the Diapering Board, the ladies were welcoming and gracious, spending what must've represented several collective man-hours answering questions about the best cloth-diapering "system" for my son. They had so many suggestions that I had to devote a second night to investigating all the different brands and types they'd recommended. By the second morning, I'd have a decision. Or so I thought.

Next Page: Doing the "Diaper Dance"

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