I opened the door and walked in backwards, pulling the pram behind me. I was still learning to manoeuvre it through small spaces, a skill that would become second nature in a few months, but I didn't realise that yet. I still felt overly cautious about the delicate wee bundle inside.
I approached the reception, slightly flustered, and asked for directions to the Baby Group. It had been a busy morning of dirty nappies, milky cuddles, and a long, drawn-out process of getting us both washed and dressed - all building up to this point. I was pleased I had made it here. I had done it, I was out of the house with my baby.
‘That's where I'm heading,’ I heard a voice call. ‘You can walk down with me.’
The voice belonged to a lady with long blonde tousled hair and a huge grin. She had a baby strapped to her chest in a multi coloured fabric wrap and a small toddler who was running ahead of her down a long corridor.
‘Thanks,’ I called, pushing the pram over to her, feeling clumsy and a bit like someone playing a character in comparison to her calm, Mother Earth aura.
‘You're early,’ she said as we walked. ‘You can help me set up if that's ok? I'm Charli.”
She opened the doors to a large sports hall, with soft foam mats covering two-thirds of the floor. The toddler started to run in circles around the hall.
As I parked up the pram, I glanced in to see my baby still sleeping. It was such a relief when he slept, I could relax briefly, and I felt like I was finally doing something right. I used the freedom to help Charli pull toys out of the cupboard, listening to her chat and following instructions on placing the toys.
The room started to fill up with other parents and kids. The volume increased, and I hovered around the pram nervously, waiting for the unfamiliar noises to jolt my baby awake, anticipating the tears I had grown to expect. But he stayed soundly asleep.
‘Here, take this,’ a biscuit and a mug were pushed towards me. ‘No milk, you said, right? I made it strong. Enjoy it while you can. He’s adorable. How old?’
‘13 weeks and 2 days,’ I replied.
‘Aw, this wee one's about the same,’ she gestured at the baby snuggled in the carrier.
‘Does she sleep well?’ I asked wearily, wincing at the memory of pacing the floors in the darkness, trying to soothe his screams. ‘I feel like I’m doing it all wrong.’ I felt my throat tighten and tears prick at my eyes.
‘She’s my second, so it’s a bit less worrying. But they’re all their own wee people. Oh, I think that’s him awake. Come over here when you’re ready.’
She introduced me to a group of women, all holding babies of various sizes. I settled into the group and listened to the conversation already in full flow as my baby's mouth found my breast. These women were voicing the concerns and anxieties I was experiencing as a first-time mum.
‘Why are my nipples so sore?’
‘How do I know what the crying means?’
‘I am so tired, I put the kettle in the fridge and the milk carton on the worktop.’
I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I wasn't doing it wrong, none of us were. We were learning and trying, and figuring it out as we went along. We were realising that the expectations we'd had of what motherhood would be like were different from reality. We'd been led to believe babies slept when they were tired, breastfeeding was a dawdle, and being a mum was full of joy and love, when, actually, a lot of it consisted of sleep deprivation and self-doubt. Two hours of honesty with this group of ladies had helped me feel understood, and it reassured me, knowing there were other people whom I could talk to.
I was smiling as I pushed my pram towards the door, the wee one tucked contentedly into his blankets.
‘Will you be back next week?’ Charli had asked, pushing a piece of folded paper into my hand.
‘Yes, definitely,’ I replied, unfolding the paper and seeing her phone number and name scrawled in blue biro.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘It's a lovely group. I think you'll enjoy it.’
As the weeks passed, I felt a growing comfort and familiarity as I walked through the door. We greeted each other with the warm smiles and kindness of old friends. We cooed over babies' achievements and recognised the signs of a sleepless night. We knew how valuable the hand of friendship was, as new parents, and we tried our best to give our kindness generously, when we could. We were all in this together.
Attending this group allowed me to enjoy friendship every week without planning. Trying to explain to old friends that I was too tired for a night out, arranging meet-ups around nap times, or being late because of an unexpected nappy explosion, often brought me feelings of stress, guilt, and letting people down. Sometimes it was easier not to try.
I learned that these weekly friendships gave me something to look forward to. A warm greeting, remembering details from something I said last week and asking about them, holding space for me when I'd had a bad week. Allowing me the chance to give the same in return. Those were the friends who supported me through my first year as a mum. They were the ones who kept me smiling, kept me hoping, and kept me going. They were indeed a lovely group. In fact, I'd say they were my lifeline.