Strollers

I used to check out strollers. They’d catch my eye while I was driving by, and as a passenger, I’d have more time to crane my neck to guess the make and model. Sometimes, I’d check out who was pushing the stroller too. 

Someone older, perhaps a grandparent giving the baby’s mom and dad a bit of a break. I would picture my parents wheeling our baby, their first grandchild, around the block after Sunday breakfast. A ballcap-and-T-shirt-wearing dad who would make me think of Jordan taking our baby out for a neighbourhood walk. A mom, sometimes in a cute matching set, who made me feel a kind of kinship, thinking to myself, “That will be me soon.”

I remember years ago, we were visiting friends in Bristol at the park with their little baby and toddler. “Oh,” our friend said to me knowingly. “When it’s your turn, you’ll know every brand, which ones are smooth to push or heavy, which ones have the best bells and whistles.”

And we laughed, because her precocious son was in a phase where he’d rattle off makes and models of cars and point out his favourites as we walked down the street. I remembered her words once we started planning for a family. I’ll be like him, I thought. I’ll become an expert, but on my baby’s ride instead of cars.

As it turned out, it was Jordan who ended up doing all the stroller research, because talk of baby gear infiltrated the husbands’ conversations. We were one of four couples in a close friend group expecting babies within a few months of each other. In addition to the latest sports news and their golf-shot recaps, Jordan and the boys would talk about baby things. Strollers and car seats were particular highlights: This brand had the best compatibility, but another brand had better overall safety ratings. Oh, and there’s a Canadian brand too that we shouldn’t overlook.

I remember teasing Jordan about nerding out on all of it, but I was also very thankful to be taken out of my ChatGPT spiral of researching what was best. We joked about rotating the things that would be outgrown, like carriers and bedside bassinets. I pictured us going on long walks with everything matching, our babies becoming part of the friendship and everyday plans we already shared.

I still check out strollers. But I’m quicker to avert my eyes.

On my first neighbourhood walk with Jordan after I was cleared from my C-section, I couldn’t stop thinking about how we were supposed to have a stroller with us. Our son was supposed to be with us. I remember standing on the sidewalk, bracing myself as a wave of grief washed over me and gripping Jordan’s hand to hold me up. And I wished I were gripping a stroller instead, with my little baby safely inside it.

It’s hard not to feel left behind. Our friend group is one trio short. Jordan, Nathan, and I were supposed to be part of the party with the new gear and new baby.

I miss the innocence of how excited I was. I miss looking at the people pushing strollers and picturing myself, and all the people I love, in their place. I see strollers everywhere: throughout our family-friendly neighbourhood, at the parks I pass by without my baby, and beside me in grocery-store aisles. I see a mom shopping with her baby and think about the meals I wish I were planning for a family of three, instead of still cooking for two, grieving.

Sometimes I look away. Sometimes I look at the person pushing a stroller and think, I’m supposed to have that. I want that to be us. Sometimes I see a little one in a stroller and picture that they could have been one of Nathan’s future friends. Other times, I picture Nathan himself. I’m currently having a hard time seeing cute little boys. And it’s especially heartbreaking and painful for me when they’re with their fathers. 

But Jordan sees something hopeful when he notices all the strollers around us. He sees how many families in our neighbourhood have children and says that it makes him feel as though we will have that life someday too. He believes we are meant to be parents to an earthside baby.

I want to believe that with him. I still check out strollers and send my thoughts to Nathan with hope for the family we still dream of. One day, I believe that we will be the ones pushing a stroller, with places to go, people to see, and Nathan’s sibling along for the ride.