The Sling Diaries, Volume VII. A photo-documentary chronicling the art of baby wearing in the lives of families around the world. Over the course of six months, Sling Diarists will create their own Sling Diary though a series of diary entries interpreting a unique theme given to them each month.
Meet all of our Sling Diarists here.
As we approach our 33rd year together, I would like to take this opportunity to gather and reflect. Compare notes and lay out plans. We have been through a lot and though we’ve had our disagreements and have sometimes been downright disrespectful to each other, I hold you in fairly high regard. While I haven’t ever spoken directly to you, you speak to me constantly through sensations of happiness, hunger, touch, fatigue, desire, smell.
I admit, I did hold a grudge with you for a long time. The pain that started at 15 and would rear its head over and over again, surgery after surgery made me feel abandoned by you. You were a disappointment and not loyal. But I want you to know how sorry I am that you had to endure that without my support. All of the toxic medications and the removal you in bits and pieces—I know it wasn’t easy and you were strong in spite of me. It isn’t your fault. Our genes aren’t our fault. And I am sorry I wasn’t kinder to you sooner.
While I’m apologizing, I need to go ahead and say sorry about the tanning bed in college, too. And all of that sleep we missed out on.
But I want you to know that I’ve been working extra hard to love you like I should have loved you all along. Despite the illness, despite the scars and all of the stretching we’ve done. I’ve been trying to learn how to take good care of each other.
Thank you for my childhood in the dirt on a softball field. For all of the grass stains and scraped knees and strawberry thighs. For the broken bone I got in college diving for a ball in the outfield and for that pitch you took to the eye—you healed that right up, you amazing thing, you. I’m so grateful that you allowed me those moments even when you were tired and busy keeping other parts of me healthy. I know you were relieved when I graduated and took up yoga in my twenties. You are so strong. Running marathons and hiking mountains and going upside down with me.
And, probably my greatest thank you of all: thank you for my babies. You released those perfect eggs and stretched to provide the perfect home for my growing children. You grew an organ three different times for my babies. Thank you for bringing them safely into this world and then nurturing them. You’ve made more milk than I ever thought possible and I don’t even care about the drooping breasts—I still find them beautiful.
I’ve found myself here in you, with you in a different kind of love than we had last year. Different than we had last week. I’m working to venerate your strength and changing beauty, to nourish you well and care for the parts of you that need a little extra love. This love of ours is an inside job and I hope you'll keep me around. You are not a project.