First Outing With Jude

I was terrified to take Jude out for the first time. Like, actual heart-racing, sweaty-palms kind of terrified.

There were a few reasons — mostly, the classic “what if something happens to him?” panic, followed closely by “what if he screams the entire time and I can’t settle him and everyone in the café thinks I’m a disaster of a mum?”

I knew it didn’t matter what strangers thought. But, still… it mattered.

Dan was on paternity leave and suggested we ease into it — a quiet walk around a peaceful park, followed by a coffee in the café. I nodded along like, “Yeah, that sounds nice,” but inside I was spiralling. Thankfully, Dan was coming with me. I clung to that like a safety blanket.

So, off we went. Jude in his little car seat, me clinging to the changing bag like it was a parachute. We parked, popped him in the pram, and started walking. And honestly? It was lovely.

The sun was out, the park was quiet, and Jude — bless him — slept the entire time. I could actually breathe. For a moment, I even thought, Maybe I can do this.

Eventually, we headed into the café. I held Jude while Dan grabbed the drinks. Jude was still asleep, tucked in my arms, and I even managed a few sips of hot coffee without burning myself. Dan offered to hold him while I finished my drink, and everything just felt… fine. Normal, even.

Then Jude woke up.

And screamed. Loudly.

Of course he did — he was 10 days old and hungry. So we sprang into action. I prepped the bottle while Dan walked him around trying to settle him. Dan fed him while I sat awkwardly pretending to be totally fine with the fact that my baby was crying in public and we were bottle feeding and people might be looking.

(They probably weren’t. But still. That invisible judgement cloud hung over me like a bad smell.)

After the feed, I had Jude on my knee, burping him like a pro — hand on his chest, patting his back. And that’s when it happened.

A woman on a mobility scooter drove straight into the pram.

I turned around, stunned, and she just kept saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

It was not okay.

I asked her — politely, somehow — to reverse, which she did. Thankfully, Jude wasn’t in the pram at that point. I mentally thanked past me for that one tiny win. But then — I’m not kidding — she drove straight into the back of my chair.

My chair jerked forward, and Jude, still in my arms, got caught between me and the table. I froze. Dan had just gone to the toilet. We were being pushed and I couldn’t move. In a split second, Dan was back, grabbing Jude from my arms. I scrambled out of the chair, shaking and crying.

Jude was screaming. I was shaking. The woman was escorted out.

It all happened so fast, but in that moment, my worst fear — something happening to Jude — felt way too close to reality.

The café owner rushed over, horrified, and offered us a free drink. I could barely speak, just muttered something about going to A&E “just to be safe.” He asked for my name and number so he could check in later. I appreciated that.

As we left, I heard people murmuring, shocked by what they’d seen — one woman said she felt sorry for me, being a new mum and all. And weirdly, that made me feel seen. I wasn’t overreacting. That was scary.

We drove straight to A&E. It was just around the corner, thank god. I was holding it together until I spotted the woman from the café — yes, the one on the scooter — in the queue behind us.

At that point, I wasn’t even angry. Just overwhelmed. Something was clearly going on with her too. But still… it didn’t make it less terrifying.

Jude got seen quickly. The doctors were calm, kind, and thorough. We stayed for a couple of hours while they checked him over and observed him, just in case. Eventually, we were given the all-clear. Jude was fine. Physically, anyway. I’m not sure the same could be said for me.

We went home and didn’t put him down for the rest of the day. Or night.

A few days later, the café owner rang to check in and make sure we were okay. I told him we were — a bit shaken, but fine — and that we really appreciated how kind he’d been about the whole thing. He was lovely again. He offered us a free drink and slice of cake for when we next came in, and let us know they were reviewing their policy on mobility scooters to make sure something like that never happened again.

It meant a lot. Honestly, that call helped restore a bit of faith after such a rough day.

The next morning, I expected to stay home, wrap myself in bubble wrap, and never leave the house again. But Dan had other ideas.

“We’re going out,” he said gently. “Just for a walk. You need to know that yesterday was a one-off.”

So we did. We went for a walk, fed Jude outside, and — miracle of miracles — nothing bad happened. Jude slept. I breathed. And slowly, I realised: I can do this.

And that was the real first outing.