I Was a Hot Mess Mom

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I was a new mom at home alone with my infant son, feeling more than a little shut-in during winter.

One day, I worked up the courage to take my baby for a short walk to the downtown supermarket, just around the block from our house.

By the time I figured out how to assemble my new baby carrier, he needed to nurse, which kicked off our lengthy feeding routine: nursing, possibly more than one diaper change, and usually a wardrobe change for both of us (or at least a fresh top half for me).

When we were finally freshly dressed and ready to go, I realized the baby’s snowsuit was just a bunting. I couldn’t use the carrier because it had leg holes.

I tried converting the carrier to the sling option on the fly, but my baby began to fuss because he was wrapped up too tightly, like a burrito. Feeling defeated, I abandoned the plan. We sat on the couch and cried together.

When another new mom from three streets over invited me for a walk, I jumped at the chance.

I remember the elaborate planning that went into this outing — timing it so my baby wouldn’t need to eat or be changed while we were out, and calling just before I set out for the other mom’s house to make sure she was similarly prepared. In hindsight, this step was unnecessary; she seemed so put together that she could probably be ready to go anytime.

Among all the hand-me-downs I’d received were two umbrella strollers. One had no canopy but a basket underneath and decent wheels, and it was my choice for quick shopping trips where I could carry one or two bags.

The other had a canopy but no basket and questionable wheels (were they even parallel?). Because it was a sunny day, I picked that one.

I showed up at my neighbor’s house. She had her baby tucked in neatly under some sort of fleecy cocoon that fit right over the car seat, which clicked into her stroller so she could gaze adoringly at her baby as she walked. Her stroller had a drink holder and storage built into the handle, too.

My stomach sank, and embarrassment flushed my cheeks. I began questioning all my life choices. Was I even fit to be a mom? I clearly had no idea what I was doing.

We had a simple mission: walk to the oil company to pay her bill. I had already walked three blocks to her house, so what was another three to the oil company? Swallowing my pride, I carried on.

I was glad I had sunglasses on because I was on and off the verge of tears, struggling to hold onto the confidence I felt slipping away with every step as I paraded my inadequacy through downtown.

It felt like one of those dreams where you show up for a final exam unprepared

• And there are only five minutes left to take the test.
• And you’re naked.
• And you have to pee.
• And you can’t run fast enough.
• And you’re falling off a cliff.

The dread from all those bad dreams was real for me as I publicly exposed my maternal shortcomings to the front office staff at the oil company, where we both knew everyone, and they wanted to see our new babies. I plastered on a smile despite feeling completely humiliated.

On the way home, the tension in my arms was almost unbearable as I tried to keep my rickety stroller in step with my neighbor’s “travel system.” I felt like Quasimodo after one too many.

Compounding my misery was learning later that you’re not supposed to use umbrella strollers with babies who can’t sit up unassisted. Why didn’t Daddy tell me this? He had kids already!

As soon as I could, I began my quest for the “right” stroller. I looked at catalogs, perused websites, and studied other friends’ choices. At last, I was ready to go to Target.

Even though my baby and I had to stop at a church parking lot to nurse along the way, he wanted to nurse again before I finished shopping. Not wanting to abandon my mission or my cart, in which I’d just figured out how to balance the car seat, I unstrapped my baby and held him in the crook of my arm while he nursed, pushing the cart with one hand and one elbow as I continued shopping.

A very pregnant woman did a double-take. “Wow, I can’t believe you can do that and shop at the same time … I hope I’ll be so natural when the time comes.”

“You do whatever you have to do. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” I assured her.

Confidence shored up, I headed to the stroller aisle. I was elated when I realized the model I liked fit perfectly with the car seat Daddy had hastily grabbed so we could leave the hospital when the baby arrived two weeks earlier than expected. Finding a match felt like a small miracle.

I rolled out of Target with my brand-new travel system like I’d just won the Showcase Showdown on The Price Is Right. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I had my act together.

A version of this story appears in my book, MotherMorphosis.

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© 2025 Caroline B. Poser. All rights reserved.