Good Stuff #2: Miracle Blanket aka “Back in the Swaddle Again”

A mom in my moms’ group recently shared that she was having a hard time getting her newborn baby down to sleep.  “I have to walk laps and laps around the house to get her to calm down.  I’m running out of energy.”

“Have you tried the Miracle Blanket?” one of us asked.  When she replied in the negative, we accosted her with exclamations on the benefits of a tight swaddle for getting baby to sleep.  A little shell-shocked, she shared that her baby didn’t like being swaddled.

Once again, a cry arose from our group.  “No, no, no,” we wailed.  “It only looks like she doesn’t want to be swaddled.  Give it another chance.”

Miracle blanket?  Swaddle?  What the heck is she talking about? For those of you unfamiliar with these lofty terms, the Miracle Blanket is a special blanket that bundles baby up so tightly that his/her arms and legs are kept from moving or escaping the tight wrap, or swaddle.  This is critical during the early months when baby insists on hitting him/herself in the face for no apparent reason.

When I was registering for baby stuff months ago, a friend advised that I include the Miracle Blanket in my list, though I didn’t really know why I should.  I had rarely ever held a baby – much less swaddled one – so I simply didn’t understand the genius that is those magical flaps inside a long oval of jersey knit.

When we brought li’l Seabass home from the hospital, our first attempt at employing the Miracle Blanket was less than impressive.  We bent over the crib, frantically alternating between looking at our wailing baby and the instructions for the blanket.

“It says the flap goes here.”

“No the flap goes here.”

“Are you sure?!?  Look at the DIAGRAM!”

And I admit, it didn’t always look like C was too thrilled to be in his little baby straightjacket.  But once Jake became really proficient at swaddling him up, our sweet baby became perceptibly calmer inside it.  I guess it has something to do with his being accustomed to close quarters in the womb.  Upon seeing C swaddled up like a mummy, visitors often remark that he must be claustrophobic in there.  (Ah, the opinions of others.  How they cut to the quick!)  I even had one visitor come over and ask to hold C, only to unswaddle him behind my back while I ran (RAN) to the restroom.  Her logic?  “He can’t be comfortable.  There’s just no way.”

But he is.  Swaddled is Seabass’ sleep style of choice, and thus, his Miracle Blanket is already starting to show some wear and tear.  If ever it gets soiled, there is a panic in the house as to how quickly we can launder it for C’s sleeping pleasure.  And we’re so cheap that we’ve only just begun to consider buying a second blanket for $39.00.  Seriously, they’re that expensive.  And seriously, they’re worth every penny.