Another in our series on wearing while injured, this time we look at bad backs. Previous posts on the topic include shoulder injuries.

Does superman tossing make you double over in pain? Does a dull ache start up in your lower vertabrae as soon as you pick up a ring sling? Welcome to the world of back injury! In this post we’ll look at prevention and cure.

Prevention

Back injuries come in many shapes and sizes, but some simple rules apply to help avoid those occasional problems caused by babywearing in the first place:

1. Start slow. Don’t start tandem wearing your 20kg preschooler at the same time you start wearing you 10kg toddler. If you’re new to babywearing or have taken an extended break, let your body get used to the weight and start out for short periods at a time.
2. Lift your child carefully. Some of our wearees can be impressively heavy, others are literally light-weights; but lifting your child is something you do repeatedly every day. Keep your child close to you so that your center of gravity isn’t pulled off balance.
3. Bend from the knees, don’t use your lower back as a lever.
4. Avoid doing dumb things. Don’t play twister while babywearing. It will be a disaster. Albeit a hilarious one.

Don’t forget that babywearing is not often a cause of back injury if you use your common sense. Thanks to all that marvellous weight bearing exercise, babywearing strengthens the muscles responsible for your core stability, actually helping to avoid back injury. Carrying a child in a supportive carrier is a lot easier on the back than carrying a child in arms for the same length of time. Of course, back carries are also great for encouraging good posture!

While you’re waiting to be cured

If you have an underlying back injury, then professional help is your best option. However, to support the healing of the affected area, there are a number of things you can do while babywearing.

1. Only wear what feels good. If front carries are painful, then avoid them. If one-shoulder carries leave you limping, then switch to the two-shouldered variety. When wrapping, carries with multiple layers will generally be more supportive than single-layer carries.
2. Don’t be afraid to ask for help to get your child onto your back. For many, lifting the child is too much of a strain, however, wearing the child is OK. If you do ask for help, make sure your helper knows exactly what they should be doing and exactly when to stop “helping” with straps and tails.
3. Wear carriers that are supportive for the weight you’re carrying. Some brands of carriers are known to be more supportive than others. Do your research, ask plenty of questions, borrow some if you can (see our loaner’s database) and find the right one for you.
4. Remember that rest may be the best cure. Less babywearing in the short-term may mean extending your babywearing well into your child’s preschool years.

Have you battled a back injury? Did you babywear while injured? What helped for you? Leave a comment and let us know!

Welcome to the Carnival of Breastfeeding! Our theme this month is “Personal Stories” and my story of traveling to one of my favourite places, nursling and wearee in tow, is below. If you’ve arrived here for the first time, you might want to check out our series on breastfeeding hands free. If you’re a regular, make sure you check out the other carnival participants below.

He stirs beneath the mosquito net. He edges closer, still half asleep. I know it must be close to four since the monks are chanting in the grey pre-dawn and the valley is silent but for their hum. He breaks the stillness, demanding my sleepy attention. I roll closer and feed him. He drifts off to sleep and I am left listening to the Buddhist cannon chanted across the valley.

An hour and a half later, the Imam chants the call to prayer and his voice sounds across the town. The Buddhists have finished their praying before the Muslims have begun and my little one has felt the passage of time too. He edges closer, pressing himself into me. As the sun is dawning, I feed him again, listening to the Imam’s prayer, piercing and clear as the day brightens.

By the time the church bells begin to toll, I am out of patience with my nursling. His father has taken him away and I luxuriate in my loneliness beneath the mosquito net listening to the bells ring out from just down the hill.

After the Christians have finished, a new hymn begins. Staccato and impatient, a language all of its own, the car horns signal the beginning of a new phase in this valley’s daily round of devotions: commercial enterprise and the accompanying traffic chaos has begun.

This is Kandy, Sri Lanka. There is no other place like it.

These sounds are a morning ritual in Kandy, an  ancient city tucked into a valley in the mountains of central Sri Lanka. Those frequent night-time and early morning feeds were our personal experience of that cultural ritual.

My son is Sri Lankan by descent, though Australian by birth, and in the New Year holiday of 2007-2008, we traveled back to the place of his father’s birth to introduce him to his extended family and his second home.

Travelling in a foreign country with a small child can be a challenge at best. Travelling in a poverty-stricken foreign country can add a new dimension to that challenge. We were lucky enough to take our son at a stage in his life when he was still worn and breastfeeding regularly. All too regularly at night, alas, which is one of the reasons I’m so very familiar with the sounds of Kandy in the early morning!

Breastfeeding helped us negotiate the intricacies of travel in several ways. Firstly, we never had to worry about clean drinking water for him. He drank water when it was safe, but if it wasn’t convenient to find it at any given point, there was a ready-made drink on hand. As a toddler, he ate solid food and was very familiar with the local cuisine, but there were inevitably some changes and differences. Breastfeeding allowed us to make up any nutritional gap. Breastfeeding also provided an important part of our routine that helped him cope with the changes that traveling entails.

Breastfeeding was a way for me to connect with the other mothers in the family. We were vastly different people from vastly different places, but our children were all fed in the same way. In a country where extended nursing is the norm and poverty is rife, it’s obvious that breastfeeding provides an important protection for infants and small children. There was a respect for the process that we shared on both sides of the cultural divide, but at the same time it was just a normal part of mothering.

The other major part of our traveling experience was babywearing. I remember tucking him up into a wrap one tropical night in Negombo and feeding him to sleep as our relatives chatted about us. The mosquitoes were ravenous that evening (and dengue fever was rife), but the wrap mercifully protected most of him from their attention, acted as a light blanket in the tropical weather and screened him from outside distractions as he drifted off to sleep in an unfamiliar place.

 
From his vantage point on our backs, our son was able to experience the full richness of Sri Lanka for himself. Whether it was getting Kozy with the elephants, attending temple for the first time with his father or walking the beaches at sunset, our son experienced all of it.

Like breastfeeding, babywearing was certainly useful from a practical standpoint. Negotiating multiple airports with a toddler who’s not just out of his time zone, but totally out of patience is much easier when you’re not juggling a pram. At our destination, however, babywearing was essential.

As a traveling rule of thumb, any street that’s just as likely to have elephants in the traffic stream as motorbikes is probably not a place where toddlers should roam freely and prams run easily. Another important piece of information for travellers: elephants do not follow road rules. Because when you’re driving an elephant down the main (one way) street of a major city against the traffic, it’s up to the rest of the city to get out of your way.

We are returning to Sri Lanka again this year with our son and our younger child. Another nursling, another wearee. More elephants to avoid and monkeys to fend off. Poverty to attempt to explain, thousands of years of history to observe. There are more memories to be made, more experiences to share. I’m quite certain I’ll be breastfeeding and babywearing on this trip, once again. I don’t know if I’ll be doing those things in tandem, but the unknown is one of the wonderful parts of traveling.

Other Carnival of Breastfeeding participants who are sharing their stories today:

• Breastfeeding Failures and Success at GrudgeMom
• Hannah’s Weaning by Amber at Strocel.com
• Weaning a Toddler at Laura’s Blog
• Life, Death and Nourishment at Stepping off the Spaceship
• Sticking with it: Our Breastfeeding Story by So Fawned.
• How Breastfeeding Changed my Life at the MotherNews Blog
• Flying Breastmilk at All That Sazz
• Ben’s Story at Massachusetts Friends of Midwives
• The “I Told You So” at Breastfeeding 1-2-3
• “They said his latch was fine” at the Motherwear blog
• Breastfeeding is not easy, but it’s certainly best for baby at Chronicles of a Nursing Mom
• Can Early Public Breastfeeding Sightings Shape One’s Future Breastfeeding Practices? at Nursing Moms Unite
• Celebrating My Chest, in Honor of Breastfeeding at Zen Mommy
• Breastfeeding After Reduction Surgery at The Towells
• Breastfeeding in Public at Blacktating
• Breastfeeding Made my the Mother I am at Breastfeeding Mums

“You’re too big to be carried,” said the woman in the office, as Emmy climbed onto my back, ready for the walk home through the chaotic Indian traffic on market day. “You should be using those legs of yours!”

“But I like to carry her,” I replied, with an edge to my voice. How dare she speak like that to my three-year-old child? “It keeps her safe from traffic, out of reach of dogs and tourists who want to pinch her cheeks; I can walk faster, I can talk to her more easily….”

The truth is, I feel like a weight has actually been lifted from my shoulders when I swing Emmy up onto my back and stride out at my own pace. I wouldn’t want to say it in front of her, but it’s great to be able to walk swiftly along without keeping to her short legs’ pace, without dealing with trips, stumbles and grazed knees, close calls with cow pats, gobs of spit and gum and without having my hand wrenched this way and that so she can investigate pieces of broken glass and dandelion clocks or just stop and drag on my arm for no reason at all. It’s not that I want to completely stifle her sense of wonder and exploration and her own pleasure in walking, but it’s liberating not to have to do it on every walk we take.

And a child can experience the world in a completely different way from the relaxed vantage point of an adult’s back. Emmy and I talk about the different kinds of birds and trees, the people and their myriad activities in the villages we pass through, the stars and planets at night and our feelings, thoughts and issues. We thrash out conflicts she’s had with me and other family members and share our fantasies about what we’re gong to do and eat when we get back to Australia.

I love to walk. The only thing I really miss about life before children is being able to go on long, challenging hikes. Three hours is about my limit now when I have two on board, as is usually the case, and nothing too steep, slippery or otherwise hairy. But that does mean I can still walk for three hours, talk to Emmy and give her baby sister the stimulation she loves without having to do anything except put one foot in front of the other. And we do walk a lot – because we can. Because I can go anywhere that doesn’t require advanced rock-climbing skills, even with two children in tow.

A lot of people don’t realise that when they see Emmy on my back she’s not being lazy (well, not always, and what’s wrong with laziness anyway?) Chances are, she’s spent an hour walking at a challenging pace, up and down steep hills, and is only now enjoying a well-earned rest. Having the freedom to ride ironically gives her the opportunity to walk in places other children her age can’t reach by foot or stroller, and she is already developing a love of hiking, exercise and the outdoors.

The other day at lunch, someone remarked how lucky my friend Katie was, to have a toddler who wanted to walk all the time: “It’s such a nuisance when they want to be carried all the time!” Katie and I looked at each other in bewilderment. “But it’s so much easier to carry them!” I’m so glad to be past the stage of the toddler who wants ‘down’ every few seconds, something that Katie was suffering through. The great thing about wearing a three-year-old is that she’s not significantly heavier than a one-year-old but a lot easier to tote. Emmy has morphed from a chubby, 15kg toddler into a skinny, 16kg preschooler who knows when she’s onto a good thing and so is quite happy to ride for long periods. She can clamber on herself or will tolerate being hip-scooted onto my back; she can put up an awkward sleep-hood alone and help me get a babywearing coat on and off. If I start to get tired or my shoulders ache, she can cope with walking for a while and maintain a reasonable pace. In fact I can comfortably manage long outings with two preschoolers by alternating them on my back. Watching her sleep as I write this, though, I realise what a baby she still is. I’m so grateful she still wants me to carry her and even more grateful that I’m still able to do so.