A Case for Cloth Diapers

Sometimes I feel like an imposter.

I espouse all the right Brobo values – I'm liberal, green, socially responsible, a do-it-yourselfer. The kitchen is the heart of our house. I like BAM. I'm a fan of Tina Fey and Jon Stewart. I belong to the Park Slope Food Coop, where instead of additives our purchases come laden with adjectives like free-range, grass-fed, hormone-free, and locally-grown. But unlike my fellow Brooklyn bourgeoisies, some of my values, while heartfelt, stem from a proletariat frugality.

Take my concern for the environment, for example.

I love this planet as much as anyone. I practice strict recycling, and eschew chemicals in favor of organics. Disposable products are not things I gravitate toward. But as much as I'd love to pump myself up as a model steward of our environment, I can't. Because underneath that passion lies an equal desire to save money.

I grew up in a working class family. Living on budget was tantamount. “What am I, the electric company?” my dad would ask when he found lights left on in unoccupied rooms. We used paper towels sparingly. Clothes were worn till they fell apart; new things came only at birthdays and Christmas. Now I associate other, loftier values to these behaviors, but at heart my conservation boils down to dollars and cents.

Raising a baby in New York City on a single educator's salary forces my wife and I to be cost-conscious. During the nesting phase, while staying home most days on a freelancer's schedule, I trolled the Park Slope Parents listserv in search of secondhand baby supplies. Often the price of this “gently used” merchandise struck me as too high. I learned that you could find just as good stuff on the street, discarded after yard sales or left on stoops during trash day.

Even now, the only new clothes my son wears are what he receives as gifts, except for footwear. Shoes are the one thing we spring for firsthand.

So when it came time to decide on diapers for our baby son, we went with cloth. They're made of an adjustable shell and absorbent cloth insert. The work involved – he needs a change every few hours, and our week divides into alternate days of either washing or folding – seemed small compared to the savings.

I feel good about this decision – contributing less to landfills, and practicing sound economics at the same time. After shelling out for a set of fourteen "Bum Genius" diapers, we've used them again and again.

Paradoxically, my family's thriftiness in this area is enabled by our good fortune. Our apartment came with a washer and dryer, and we're home most nights, so cleaning the diapers isn't a terrible burden. If we had to schlep a pail of dirty diapers to and from the laundromat every other night, we'd go disposable all the way.

We do use disposables at night, paranoid about potential rashes and leaks. My son also wears them when traveling – Target brand no less, because they're cheap to buy in bulk and only a quick walk away (no shipping!). Sometimes, sadly, practicality and convenience trump environmentalism.

Sometimes I wish we would do more. I have a friend who uses cloth wipes as well as diapers. I buy disposable ones, non-chlorinated, wood-pulp based wipes that I rip in pieces to cut down on having to resupply. I balk at the gross specifics of cloth wipes – the bucket of poopy rags that would hang around the bathroom, the additional work of washing them – to go that route. I have my limits.

Of course, on the playground or at play dates, when people see the cloth diapers, I've been patted on the back for my ecological bent. Taken along with our cooking most of our meals, and growing a little food in our backyard, and composting, and not owning a car, it seems like I'm really doing my part for the planet.

“It's no big deal, really,” I tell people. “Not much hassle at all.”

Often I get the sense they're impressed, like I've got this great environmental streak so big, I'm willing to deal with spraying poop off of dirty diapers. But I know the truth.

Really, it's where I'm coming from, a reflection of how I was raised. Cloth diapers, like so many other of my eco-friendly habits, just make sense.