A Letter To Myself About The Chaos Of The Baby Crawling Phase

It's 2:14 PM on a Tuesday. I'm wearing black yoga pants that haven't seen the inside of a gym since 2018, and a gray t-shirt stained with breastmilk and what I'm desperately hoping is just mashed sweet potato. I'm nursing my third cup of lukewarm coffee, sitting cross-legged on the beige living room rug, watching Leo do this weird... backwards dragging motion. Like a defective Roomba with a diaper. Oh god, I'm so anxious.

I'm holding my phone in one hand, aggressively panic-googling the baby crawling age because my friend Jessica's kid—who's exactly two weeks younger than Leo—is already doing the perfect, textbook, hands-and-knees sprint across her pristine hardwood floors. Meanwhile, Leo is just loudly grunting, getting stuck under the coffee table, and scooting his butt in reverse. I'm convinced I've broken him. I'm convinced he's never going to walk, or run, or go to college.

So, I'm writing this letter to myself from six months ago. Well, okay, technically it was over three years ago because Leo is four now and Maya is seven, but thanks to chronic sleep deprivation, it literally feels like last Tuesday. My brain is basically mush at this point, but I need to put this down in writing for anyone else currently spiraling on their living room floor.

Dear past Sarah, put down the damn phone

Stop it. Just close the incognito browser tabs about developmental delays. Drink your gross cold coffee. I'm writing this to you because I know you're currently freaking out, convinced that because Leo is eight months old and prefers to roll aggressively toward the dog's water bowl instead of doing a standard crawl, you've somehow failed as a mother. You haven't.

You're obsessing over the exact month this is supposed to happen, right? You keep comparing him to Maya. Maya, who started army-crawling right at six months like she read the parenting manual in the womb. But kids are different. Dr. Aris, our pediatrician who always looks like he needs a nap as much as I do, casually mentioned at a checkup that the normal window for crawling is so ridiculously wide it's practically useless.

Like, some babies start moving at five months, and some wait until they're over a year old. He told me that something like seven percent of babies just skip the whole baby crawling phase entirely. They literally just go straight from sitting on their butts to pulling up on the couch to walking, completely bypassing the hands-and-knees dirt-sweeping phase. I remember looking at him like he had two heads. I thought crawling was a mandatory prerequisite for walking, like taking Algebra 1 before Algebra 2. But apparently, it's not.

Anyway, the point is, you need to chill out. The timeline is basically made up, and stressing about whether he's hitting the milestone on the exact average day is just going to give you an ulcer.

That weird reverse crab walk actually counts

Let's talk about the specific, hilarious way he's moving right now. I know you keep trying to physically arrange his chubby little limbs into a standard push-up position, treating him like a tiny personal training client, and he just keeps collapsing into a puddle of giggles and drool. Stop forcing it.

Moving backwards is super common. Dr. Aris explained that their little arms are just way stronger than their legs at first, so when they push, they naturally slide backward. It frustrates the hell out of Leo because he's trying to reach the TV remote, and he keeps getting further away from it, but it's part of the process.

I remember reading somewhere that any kind of movement counts. Commando crawling where they drag their belly on the floor like they're dodging enemy fire? Counts. Bear crawling on their hands and feet with stiff legs? Counts. That ridiculous bottom-scooting thing he does where he propels himself with one leg while keeping the other tucked in? Totally counts. Even if they're just a rolling wonder, continuously log-rolling across the room to get to a toy, they're figuring out spatial awareness.

The brain stuff happening behind the scenes is actually wild. Our doctor mumbled something about bilateral coordination and cross-lateral pathways, which I'm pretty sure just means his brain is finally realizing his left arm and right leg can work together so he doesn't faceplant. It forces the left and right hemispheres of the brain to communicate. It even helps with visual tracking, because he has to focus on the cat across the room and then look back down at his own hands. So yeah, even if he looks like a struggling turtle, his brain is doing serious heavy lifting.

The crap we bought (and the stuff that actually helped)

Look, I know you. You're vulnerable, you're tired, and you've your credit card saved in your phone. You're going to buy a lot of unnecessary crap thinking it's going to magically teach him how to crawl.

First of all, don't buy a baby walker. Just don't even entertain the thought. My husband Dave really wanted to get one of those huge, plastic, battery-powered spaceship-looking seated walkers because he thought it would "train" Leo's legs. I asked the pediatrician about it, and he literally gave me a look of pure terror. Apparently, they're massive safety hazards, especially if you've stairs, and they honestly delay motor development. Because the baby is suspended in a little fabric seat, they aren't learning how to balance their own weight or use their glutes properly. So we skipped that entirely.

What really worked? Getting him out of the restrictive containers. We relied way too much on the bouncer in the early days just so I could drink a cup of coffee without someone screaming, but babies need unrestricted floor time to build muscle memory.

The problem was our hardwood floors were freezing, slippery, and frankly, covered in dog hair no matter how much I vacuumed. We ended up getting this gorgeous round vegan leather mat, and it was hands down my favorite purchase of that entire year. I'm not even exaggerating. I spilled half a mug of dark roast coffee on it the first week we had it, and I just wiped it up with a paper towel. No weird chemical smell, super plush with this organic silk filling, and it gave him just enough traction to push off without rug-burning his knees. Seriously, invest in a good surface that doesn't make your living room look like a primary-color explosion.

If you're also drowning in the chaos of early mobility and want to see what seriously worked for us without ruining your home's aesthetic, browse Kianao's baby gear collection.

Also, because the house was so drafty, we got these little non-slip baby shoes. I'll be totally honest with you here—they were incredibly cute, like tiny little boat shoes, and they definitely gave him some grip when he eventually started trying to pull himself up on the sofa. But he also figured out how to kick them off with shocking speed until he was a bit older. They're great, but you've to genuinely tie them tight enough, which is a total wrestling match with a squirmy eight-month-old. Indoors, barefoot is honestly best for their foot development when you can swing it, but when it's freezing, those shoes did the trick (when they stayed on).

Oh, and the clothing! Stop putting him in stiff little denim jeans. I know they look adorable for Instagram pictures, but the poor kid can't bend his knees in them. We switched almost entirely to stretchy organic cotton pants. They have this ribbed texture and a drawstring waist that doesn't dig into his chubby tummy, and they genuinely move with him. Plus, they took an absolute beating from all the floor dragging and washed up perfectly every time.

Welcome to babyproofing hell

Here's the part where I need you to panic just a little bit, but about the right things. You think the living room is safe. I promise you, it's not.

Once Leo figures out how to propel himself forward, he's going to find every single choking hazard you didn't even know existed. You're going to have to spend an entire Saturday literally crawling on your hands and knees to see the room from his perspective, finding old batteries under the sofa, and making Dave drill holes in the drywall to bolt the bookshelf, all while trying to remember where the hell you put the magnetic cabinet locks.

The pediatrician gave us the toilet paper tube trick: if a random object on the floor can fit inside an empty toilet paper tube, it's a choking risk. I found two loose screws, a dried piece of penne pasta, and a plastic googly eye from one of Maya's craft projects just in the living room.

Also, anchor the furniture. All of it. That heavy mid-century dresser you love? Bolt it down. When cruising babies start trying to stand, they'll grab onto anything to pull themselves up, and dressers tip over so easily. Just buy the wall anchors. Tape up the sharp corners of the coffee table. Hide the dog food, because I swear to you, he will absolutely try to eat handfuls of kibble the second you turn your back to check your email.

Trusting your gut over the internet

Look, the baby crawling phase is a chaotic mess. You're going to spend the next few months perpetually hunched over, chasing him away from electrical outlets, fishing mystery floor-lint out of his mouth, and wondering why you ever thought beige rugs were a good idea.

But it's also kind of magic. Watching them realize they've agency—that they can decide they want a toy across the room and then physically move their own body to get it—is incredible. You get to watch their whole world expand in real-time.

If something feels really, truly wrong, call Dr. Aris. Like, if he's only dragging one side of his body and not using the other, or if he's super floppy, or if he hits 12 months and makes absolutely zero attempts to become mobile. That's what doctors are there for. Don't ask a Facebook mom group; ask your doctor.

But mostly? He's just figuring it out on his own timeline, in his own weird, backwards-scooting way.

Take a deep breath. Go microwave your coffee. Put the phone away. He's doing great, and honestly, so are you.

Before you go panic-buy a bunch of ugly foam corner guards and industrial baby gates, maybe take a breath and check out Kianao's organic clothing collection so your kid's knees survive the friction of their new favorite mode of transportation.

Some messy answers to the questions you're probably googling right now

Is it normal that my baby crawls backwards?
Yes! Oh my god, yes. I spent weeks stressing about this with Leo. Their arms are just way stronger than their legs in the beginning, so when they push up, they naturally slide in reverse. It usually frustrates them because they end up further away from the toy they want, but it's totally normal and seriously helps them build the coordination they need to eventually move forward.

Should I put shoes on my crawling baby?
Honestly, if you're indoors and it's warm enough, barefoot is best. Our pediatrician said letting their bare toes grip the floor helps build foot strength and balance. But if your floors are freezing like ours were, or you're going out, soft-soled, flexible shoes with grippy bottoms are the way to go. Just don't put them in stiff, heavy shoes that weigh their little legs down.

Why is my baby skipping crawling and just standing?
Because babies don't read the developmental timeline charts we obsess over. Some kids just want to be upright. About seven percent of babies skip crawling completely and go straight from sitting to pulling up on furniture. As long as they're learning to coordinate their body and exploring their environment, our doctor assured me it's totally fine.

Do I really need a play mat or can they just crawl on the rug?
You don't *need* anything, but I highly think one. Rugs are full of dust, dog hair, and mystery crumbs (no matter how much you vacuum), and hardwood floors are hard on their little knees when they faceplant. A good, thick, non-toxic mat gives them a safe, clean zone to practice pushing up without sliding around.

When should I honestly worry about delayed crawling?
I'm not a doctor, just an exhausted mom, but our pediatrician told us to look out for asymmetry (like if they only drag one side of their body and don't use the other), extreme stiffness or floppiness, or if they reach 12 months without making any attempts to become mobile or sit independently. If your gut says something is off, call your doctor. That's literally what they're paid for.