The kindness of strangers

Molly Whitehead-Jones - 6 Apr 16

As I hurtle towards the end of my maternity leave (wait, wasn’t it only like six weeks ago that we brought Elliot home from the hospital?!), I’ve been reflecting on everything that’s helped me to survive the life-consuming upheaval of early motherhood.

Along with tons of sanity-saving baby gadgets – praise be for Ewan the Dream Sheep, Jumperoos and Perfect Prep machines – and the numerous medical staff who’ve kept Elliot safe and well, there have of course been the loved ones who’ve played their own massively important part in making every day a little easier: my husband, parents and friends.

But beyond the obvious, there are many, many other people to who I also owe a debt of gratitude. People whose names I don’t even know. Perfect strangers, in fact.

You see, when you feel varying degrees of overwhelmed/fraught/manic for at least six hours of the day (= ‘new mum’ me), a sympathetic word or a gentle gesture takes on new significance. The truth is that the many little acts of kindness I’ve encountered as Elliot and I have huffed and puffed our way out into the wider world have meant SO much to me.

Don’t get me wrong: we’ve had our fair share of uppity sneers, general unhelpfulness and downright meanness too (I’m looking at you, the two men who walked past me as I dragged the pram up the stairs of the tram stop in the rain after the lift broke. SHAME!). But I’m pretty certain that if I’d kept a tally, the good would far outweigh the bad.

Becoming a mum has given me the opportunity to view the world through Elliot’s eyes, and he is fascinated by people. I see the way he studies every new face: no judgement, no preconceptions, a smile for everyone. This and the fact that we’ve been treated so warmly by so many strangers has reminded me how truly wonderful folks can be and helped to restore a bit of my faith in humanity. Which has been uplifting, fortifying, and ultimately just lovely for me.

So I’d like to hand out a few special ‘thank you’s:

To the entire team of café staff who were so welcoming one otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, for making us feel that having a baby and a pram there was a pleasure rather than a chore.

To the endless number of shop assistants who cooed over Elliot while I tried to extract my purse from the recesses of the nappy bag.

To the businessman who, in an act of extra-mile niceness, backtracked to open the unwieldy shop door for us, even though he was only walking past the building we were exiting rather than coming in himself.

To the two ladies who volunteered to let me go in front of them the day I was on a mad nappy dash.

To the young bloke who gave us a warm smile the time that Elliot wouldn’t stop hollering and showing off on the otherwise-very-quiet tram.

To the fellow mother who helped me negotiate the pram up some steep steps into a restaurant, saying “I remember what it was like”.

To the waitress in the local café bar who lent a sympathetic ear the afternoon Elliot just… wouldn’t… nap (which was even more welcome than the glass of wine I practically inhaled as we chatted).

To the countless people who waited with us at pedestrian crossings or in shop queues, or sat next to us in Starbucks, or simply passed us in the street that threw me a grin, admired Elliot or engaged me in distracting conversation – this helped immeasurably on the days I felt especially flustered.

And finally, to the Selfish Mother community and especially the hundreds of mamas I’ve never even met who’ve liked and commented on my posts here. You’ve all made me feel less lost, more supported and that I’m definitely not the only one ‘winging it’.

Molly Whitehead-Jones

Molly Whitehead-Jones is a first-time mum living in Manchester and founder of Mamas Collective, a mums group that offers meetups, workshops & events for savvy, super-cool mamas who love their kids but won’t let motherhood hold them back.

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