Off the Beaten Path

Took the kid on a stroll through the Aids Memorial Grove in Golden Gate Park today. A beautifully designed place with a redwood grove, a small one but remarkably peaceful and secluded, set down in an oval-shaped basin, away from the traffic noises of the park above. This secluded spot also contains, just beyond the redwoods, a surprisingly large grassy area with benches all around; and on all sides of the dell, lush plantings of magnolia trees, ferns and flowers provide even more of a feeling of isolation and tranquility.

The only complaint I could make about the place is that it's not all that wheelchair accessible--making it, also, not very stroller accessible. It's easy to enter the grove from what's called the South Portal, leading down into the basin; but then, it's a struggle to make it up the unpaved path on the other side. My progress forward, even with the new, sturdy stroller I've purchased, was seriously impeded by stairs and roots and large rocks. At the end of the climb up the side of the basin, a series of roots and rocks discouraged me so much that I said aloud, to the baby and to no one, "I just don't know..." at that moment, a young man with a tiny baby nestled under his jacket came towards me and offered to help me lift the stroller. "Oh no, you've got your own load to carry," I said, but he was already lifting the front end of the stroller; I had no choice but to follow with the back end. I looked at his baby, trying to remember when my own child was that small..."How old?" I asked.

"Three months."

"Oh yes, I remember those days," I said, smiling in what I hoped was a sympathetic way. "Not the easiest time."

"But they're very portable," he replied, cheerfully patting the bundle in his jacket.

His enthusiasm for his new parenting role was obvious; it was a highlight of the day, just experiencing that for a moment--remembering what the first days can feel like. Some of that glow washed off on me. I also realized--he might have no inkling of what I was talking about. It was entirely possible that his son or daughter (I could only see a pair of small eyes peeking out from his jacket) slept through the night already, and remained remarkably even-keeled throughout the day.

Everyone's experience of parenthood is completely different, because our temperaments and parenting styles are all so different--which is obvious; but also--and this is just not apparent to people unless they've been through it--babies are all so radically different from one another. My baby no longer fit into my jacket like that after about four weeks of age. I would have loved to have experienced that for a bit longer, but he just wasn't one of those babies. In my mother's group, one baby girl still weighs less than twelve pounds at four and a half months of age. My baby weighed over eighteen pounds at two months. That's just the way it is. As parents, we're all wandering off the beaten path, in one way or another. At least we are if we're honest with ourselves.