During my pregnancy with my second child, I set out on a quest to find the ultimate double stroller. Rather than reflecting on the insights I had gleaned from my first two years of motherhood, I became inexplicably fixated on this pursuit. My definition of “perfect” was crystal clear: I sought a stroller that was robust and smooth for lengthy walks, yet light enough to maneuver easily in and out of the car. It needed to have an ample cup holder, adjustable handles, a user-friendly basket, durable wheels, and a price tag that was less than a week’s getaway to Fiji. I had managed to resist the allure of expensive brands like Bugaboo the first time around, and I was determined not to succumb to the temptation of needing the luxury model as a second-time mom. I held on to that much perspective.
Of course, the ideal double stroller didn’t exist. While I was aware of the shortcomings of single strollers, I chose to overlook that truth. Many of my friends had regrets about their choices: flimsy baskets, wheels that were too cumbersome for their cars, and complicated mechanisms for folding and unfolding. Yet, most moved on with their lives, accepting their decisions.
Despite my logical understanding, I wasted countless hours poring over online reviews of double strollers, an absurd obsession I now recognize. In the end, we acquired two: a heavier, clunkier model for our walks, purchased secondhand from friends, and a lightweight, budget-friendly option for the car. Both served their purposes but were far from perfect, much like the single strollers we owned. Yes, that’s right; we had four strollers in total, which might seem excessive, but after having two more children, those four models were thoroughly tested and worn out.
Rest assured, I have no more insights to share about strollers. I’ve come to realize that my fixation during that period had little to do with the strollers themselves.
As time went on, it became clear that my intense focus on finding the right stroller was a reflection of my desire to gain control over the significant changes ahead. Transitioning from one child to two filled me with anxiety; I barely felt competent with one child, so how could I possibly manage two?
However, if I’m being completely honest, my struggles stemmed from more than just self-doubt in my parenting abilities. I think I lost perspective because I was feeling lonely and unfulfilled. After my first child was born, I had stopped teaching and had not yet begun writing. My social and spiritual life was lacking, and I lacked the confidence to realize that my children simply needed a present and engaged mother, not a flawless one obsessively searching for the perfect stroller or other baby essentials. I was fretting over trivial matters as if the right stroller would somehow transform our lives in a meaningful way. I had let myself spiral into absurdity and vowed never to fall into that trap again.
Nowadays, I have fewer “stroller moments,” a term my husband and I use for those times when I cross the line from rational decision-making into needless worrying. (We have various code words for when he needs a little perspective too.) I highly recommend this concept as a tool for fostering self-awareness in the moment. It provides a strategy for escaping any mental pit I find myself in.
Currently, my stroller moments often revolve around friendship dynamics or my writing career, but the root issue remains a misguided sense of control. Why is cousin Lisa still upset with me? Why hasn’t that editor replied to my email? “Am I having a stroller moment again?” I often ask my husband. By the look on his face, I can tell the answer before I even finish my question.
Someday, I’ll guide my kids in creating their own code words. For now, their youth—and thankfully, their health—affords them the luxury of being blissfully unaware. I intend to let them savor that innocence for a while longer.
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Summary:
In her reflective piece, Nina Badzin recounts her obsessive search for the perfect double stroller while preparing for her second child. She realizes that this fixation stemmed from her struggle for control amidst the anxiety of expanding her family. Over time, she learns to manage her worries and recognizes that her children need her engagement rather than perfection. This realization leads her to develop strategies for maintaining perspective in her life.