Pandemic Baby
My daughter was six months old before she ever went inside a Target.
Maybe that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it isn’t about the Target part, it is about the being inside a store part.
Daisy was born in June of 2020. At the time, I wasn’t sure that Kyle would be able to be in the room with me when I gave birth to her. I cancelled my baby shower. It felt scary. Giving birth is already scary; raising a child even scarier. But then she couldn’t leave the house. She had a few visitors — trusted family and friends — but for those first few months, Daisy went for walks, to doctor’s appointments, and that was it.
When we wheeled her into Target in her stroller, she looked around with big eyes, unsure of her surroundings. By the time we got to the clothes section, which as you probably know is right after the front door, she was wailing. I tried to give her toys or snacks. I gave her a pacifier. She just kept crying. The bright lights and other people and stuff everywhere was too much for her. She’d never been in such a place. What was a “store,” she probably thought. And who are all these people?
This was a short trip. I honestly don’t even remember if we bought anything. We just got out of there and sighed with both frustration and relief when we got back to the car.
The first time we took Daisy to a restaurant was very much the same. She was a little older, but still overwhelmed. She cried and cried, but eventually (when the pizza arrived) she warmed up. When we took her to the beach, she was unsure about the ferry or the big water, but because it was literally just my family with her, she felt safe to play and have fun. So I believe it is not just the going of places, but the being around strangers and environments that she’s never seen.
Just this past weekend, I took her to a family event, and as soon as we walked in the door, she started wailing. The kind of crying reserved for serious injuries. The kind of crying with snot and spit and the inability to catch her breath. It went on for what felt like hours, but was likely about 30 minutes. I was determined to keep her there, to show her she was safe. Family members offered to help in their own ways, but I really wanted to keep trying. Eventually, my mother-in-law took Daisy outside for a few minutes. When I went to check on them, Daisy was carrying around rocks and was completely happy. I was nervous to take her back inside, but when I did, she was fine. She was happy. She warmed up to everyone and started walking around. She interacted with the other babies there and ate plenty of sweets and snacks. She was happy. She felt safe.
The next day, we took her to Gritt’s Farm, which is a fall staple. Last year, Daisy was tiny when we took her to get her picture in the pumpkin patch, but this year, she was able to walk around and explore. She truly loved it. She walked around everywhere, exploring the hay maze, sitting in a bin full of corn kernels, and touching every pumpkin she passed. It was a beautiful day and when I stopped to think about it, about how far she’s come, it made me choke up.
It’s easy to joke about having a pandemic baby. It’s easy to use that as an excuse for why she’s nervous or shy or crying. And yes, some kids just cry and are shy around people and it has nothing to do with the pandemic. But in reality, this has affected this generation of children in ways we probably don’t even understand yet. In a time that has often felt incredibly unsafe for me and my family, I want to make sure Daisy feels as safe as possible. Of course, that is what every parent wants, but the large scale of this pandemic, of the fear and uncertainty and risk that has been swirling around us for two years, that adds a new layer to parenting. To growing up. She is a baby, and for the majority of her life, the world she has known hasn’t gone very far past our yard. As we try to safely take her more places, I do not want her to fear her surroundings. I want her to feel excited and happy to explore and see new things. Even if it is just Target.