A Letter To My Past Self About The Front Facing Baby Carrier

Dear Sarah of October 2019.

You're currently standing in the Target parking lot next to the Honda CR-V, which Dave inexplicably insists on calling the baby car even though it's literally just a standard suburban SUV with a car seat installed in the back. You're sweating through a gray maternity t-shirt that you absolutely refuse to retire because it's soft, and you've a half-empty, wildly overpriced iced latte resting dangerously on the roof of the car. You're holding five-month-old Leo, who's currently chewing aggressively on his own fist, and you're staring at that complicated fabric torture device otherwise known as a baby carrier, trying to figure out if today is the day.

Today is the day you want to flip him around.

You're so tired of him fussing into your chest, and Dave keeps coming over and saying "let him see the world, let my little g baby look around," which is a whole other issue because why is my thirty-five-year-old accountant husband calling our infant a 'g baby' like we're starring in a nineties hip hop video. Anyway, the point is, you're hovering in this parking lot trying to remember what you read at 3 AM about when it's actually safe to turn a baby outward to face the world.

I'm writing from four years in the future—Leo is four now, Maya is seven, the gray maternity shirt is thankfully dead—to save you from the spiraling anxiety you're about to experience. Because the transition to facing outward is a whole weird, complicated phase that nobody really explains without making you feel like a terrible parent.

The absolute terror of the floppy baby head

You're looking at Leo right now and thinking he's pretty sturdy. He's a chunky guy. But I need you to actually look at his neck. When I took him to our pediatrician, Dr. Aris, I asked if we could start facing him outward in the carrier since he was hitting the weight minimums on the box. Dr. Aris did that thing where he pulls the baby up by their arms to see if their head lags behind.

He told me that age and weight honestly mean jack crap if the baby doesn't have complete, independent head and neck control to stabilize themselves against my body when I walk. Because when they face inward, their head rests on my chest. When they face outward, their head is just out there in the wind. Dr. Aris gave me this terrifying visual that I'll now pass on to you. If a baby isn't strong enough and their chin drops down to rest on their chest, their little windpipe crimps exactly like a kinked garden hose.

Terrifying.

If his chin isn't completely clearing the top edge of the carrier panel while he's looking around, don't flip him out. Just wait another month. He is not going to miss out on the majestic sights of the Target dollar spot, I promise.

The sleep rule that you literally can't break

So let's say his neck is strong and you get him facing forward. You're walking around. He's kicking his little legs. He loves it. But babies are basically tiny unpredictable narcoleptics, and the motion of you walking is going to make him drowsy.

You're going to be tempted to just let him sleep like that because undoing the clips and turning him around sounds like a lot of work when you're holding a basket full of impulse-buy throw pillows. Don't do it. Ever. Dr. Aris was so intensely serious about this. Positional asphyxiation is a real thing. When they fall asleep facing forward, there's absolutely zero head support, their head lolls forward, and we're back to the kinked garden hose situation.

The second his eyes start getting heavy or he does that slow-blink thing, you've to awkwardly unbuckle the side straps and spin him back around to face your chest where his airway stays open. It sucks. It usually wakes him up and makes him mad. But you just have to do it.

What Dr. Aris said about hips that actually made sense

Okay, let's talk about the hip dysplasia stuff because the internet parenting forums will absolutely eat you alive over this. You've probably seen moms in Facebook groups drawing red lines over photos of other people's babies in carriers, which is totally unhinged behavior.

I tried to understand the medical mechanics of hip development and honestly it's confusing, but what I gathered from our doctor is that their joints are basically made of soft cartilage right now. If you buy a cheap, narrow carrier that just suspends them by their crotch while their legs dangle straight down like a parachuter, it puts terrible pressure on those developing hip sockets.

But you don't have to panic as long as you've a good structured carrier and you do the pelvic tuck. Every single time you strap him in, facing in or out, you literally just reach your hands under his thighs, scoop his little butt up, and tilt his pelvis forward toward your body. You want his knees to be higher than his bottom. Like a little frog. Or an M-shape. If you just grab a safe organic baby outfit and a solid carrier with a wide base, and you scoop the butt, his hips will be fine.

Just throw away those twenty-dollar narrow crotch-dangler carriers entirely.

Why that thirty minute time limit is not a joke

Here's where I need to apologize to you, Past Sarah. Because I know exactly what you're going to do next week. You're going to read some random blog that claims the time limits for facing outward are just a myth made up by overprotective moms.

I need you to listen to me right now. The time limit is real.

You're going to take Leo to the farmer's market. You're going to face him outward so he can see the tomatoes and the acoustic guitar guy and the dogs. And you're going to leave him like that for forty-five minutes. And it's going to result in the most apocalyptic, red-faced, screaming meltdown of his short life.

When they face us, they've a built-in filter. If a dog barks too loud or the sun is too bright, they just turn their face into our chest and tune it out. When they're facing outward, they're getting blasted in the face with a firehose of unfiltered sensory information. Lights, noises, smells, strangers making weird faces at them. They can't look away.

Ten to thirty minutes. That's the maximum window before they get completely overstimulated and lose their tiny minds. You have to watch his cues. If he starts rubbing his eyes, fussing, or rigidly turning his head to the side, his brain is full. Flip him around immediately.

Your lower back is going to scream

Nobody warned me about the physics of this phase. When Leo is facing your chest, his weight is hugged against your body, which is relatively manageable. But when you flip him around, his arms and legs are out, and his center of gravity shifts forward.

It's exactly like strapping a bowling ball to your ribcage that's actively trying to lean away from you. By the time he hits twenty pounds, it's going to pull on your shoulders and absolutely destroy your lower back. Honestly, this phase only lasts a few months anyway. Once he's big enough, you're going to start throwing him on your back instead, which is so much easier on the spine.

The gear that seriously survives this phase

While we're standing in this parking lot, let's talk about what he's wearing. Thank god you've him in that Organic Cotton Baby Romper Henley Button-Front Short Sleeve Suit. I'm not kidding when I say this is the greatest piece of clothing we owned for him. Why? Because right after you finally get the carrier straps adjusted, he's going to have a massive blowout that escapes the diaper.

The fact that this romper is organic cotton with that five percent stretch is the only reason you aren't going to have to cut it off his body with scissors in the backseat of the car. The three buttons down the front make it so easy to pull down over his shoulders instead of up over his head. It's so soft, it breathes, and it handles the disgusting realities of infancy like a champ.

I also see you've attached that Panda Teether to the carrier strap with a pacifier clip. Look, it's a fine teether. It's safe food-grade silicone, the bamboo texture is good for his gums, and it washes off easily. But I'm going to be honest with you—when he's facing outward, he's mostly just going to use it as a weapon. He's going to chew on it for two minutes and then violently launch it out of the carrier at unsuspecting strangers. It's cute, but mostly it's just a projectile.

Oh, and grab the Organic Cotton Baby Blanket with Polar Bear Print out of the diaper bag. Because when you do turn him outward, the sun is going to hit his arms, and Dave is going to have to do this ridiculous thing where he drapes the blanket over the front of the carrier like a makeshift awning. Luckily, that double-layered organic cotton is super breathable so he won't overheat, and the polar bear print looks slightly better than the weird muslin rags we usually use.

Just breathe through the buckles

So, take a sip of that lukewarm coffee. Pull the t-shirt down over your maternity leggings. If you want to turn him out today, just make sure his chin is high, scoop his butt into that frog shape, and set a timer on your phone for twenty minutes so he doesn't have a total mental breakdown next to the shopping carts.

You're doing fine. The straps are confusing for everyone, your baby is healthy, and eventually, he's going to just walk on his own two feet and refuse to be carried at all.

If you need me, I'll be in 2023, trying to get Maya to eat a vegetable.

If you want to stock up on clothes that seriously stretch over a blowout without ruining your day, check out our collection of organic baby apparel.

Questions you're definitely going to google at 3 AM

When can I seriously start facing my baby outward?
Don't look at the calendar, look at their neck. My doctor told me to wait until they've total, unassisted head control and they're tall enough that their chin completely clears the top of the fabric panel. For Leo, this wasn't until around five and a half or six months. If they still have that newborn bobblehead thing going on, keep them facing your chest.

Can they sleep facing forward?
Oh god no. Absolutely never. This was the one thing that really scared me. Because there's no fabric supporting the back of their head when they face outward, if they fall asleep, their head just flops forward. This can crimp their windpipe and cause positional asphyxiation. If you see them getting drowsy or doing that heavy eye-blink, you've to stop and flip them around immediately.

How long can I leave them facing out?
Keep it to like 10 to 30 minutes tops. I thought people were being dramatic about this until Leo had a massive meltdown at a busy market. When they face out, they can't turn away from bright lights, loud noises, or weird smells. They just get overstimulated and freak out. Short bursts are the way to go.

Is it going to ruin their hips?
Only if you're using one of those terrible, cheap carriers with a super narrow base that leaves their legs dangling straight down. As long as you've a wide, ergonomic carrier and you do the little pelvic tuck—where you reach in and physically scoop their butt up so their knees sit higher than their pelvis in an M-shape—their joints will be totally fine.

Why does my back hurt so much when I face them out?
Because physics hates mothers. When they face inward, their weight is tight against your center of gravity. When you flip them outward, their heavy little head and arms pull your center of gravity forward, forcing your lower back to overcompensate. Once they hit around 20 pounds, you're going to want to switch to a back carry anyway just to save your spine.