From Lonely Tuesdays to Mum Friends and Nursery Rhymes
The first time you try to leave the house for a baby class feels a bit like preparing for a two-week camping trip — except your “gear” is a changing bag the size of a small suitcase and your “travel companion” is someone who can’t hold their own head up. You check the nappy count twice, pack a spare outfit “just in case” (which, spoiler, you’ll definitely need), and somehow still end up leaving with sick on your shoulder.
Maternity leave can be surprisingly lonely. All your friends are at work, your partner’s at work and suddenly it’s just you and this tiny human for hours on end. Which is lovely, obviously - they smell good and make cute noises - but after a while you start craving actual adult conversation. Not the ‘goo-goo’ kind. The ‘so what’s your Netflix recommendation’ kind.
That’s where baby classes come in.
I went to my first one when Jude was about six weeks old. I was nervous — partly about the logistics (“How many nappies do I pack? Do I need to bring toys? Will Jude scream the place down?”) and partly about walking into a room full of strangers. But I needn’t have worried. For starters, Jude absolutely loved it. Every single second. He didn’t sleep, didn’t cry, just lay there like a tiny king surveying his new kingdom of rattles, singing, and other squishy-faced babies.
Then came the singing. There is a very specific vulnerability in singing “Wind the Bobbin Up” in a brightly lit room at 10 a.m. to a baby who is mostly interested in staring at the ceiling. At first, I mouthed the words like a shy extra in a school play, but by the second verse something shifted — everyone else was going for it, and no one cared if we were out of tune. By the end of the session, I was clapping, doing the actions, and wondering if this is how Coldplay felt when the crowd sang along.
I think Jude spent the entire time unimpressed with my singing and just stared at everyone else as if he was embarrassed of his mum (it won’t be the last time he’s embarrassed of me, I’m sure)!
And for me? Well, it was like opening the door to a parallel universe where everyone else got it. A whole room of mums in the exact same boat — eyes a bit tired, hair in varying states of “I didn’t have time to wash it,” and all bonded by the fact we were navigating the chaos together. We swapped stories about sleep (or, more accurately, the absence of it), feeding struggles, and the bizarre things you find yourself Googling at 3 a.m.
Even when I saw my pre-baby friends, as lovely as they were, they just couldn’t fully relate. It wasn’t their fault — they didn’t know the unique mental gymnastics required to leave the house with a newborn, or the deep satisfaction of a baby’s first proper burp after 40 minutes of trying. But here, in this class, I didn’t have to explain or justify anything. Everyone just… understood.
After that first session, I was hooked. I booked a term’s worth of classes every Tuesday. It became our little anchor in the week — a reason to get dressed in something other than pyjamas, get out of the house, and do something fun for Jude andfor me. Slowly, those familiar faces in the circle time mat became friends.
We started meeting outside of class — coffees that turned into long walks, the odd lunch where we juggled spoons and bibs like seasoned circus acts, and even a Pilates class or two (with varying levels of grace). Now, even though we’re all back at work, we still meet up. The babies play together, we catch up on life, and it all started because I took a deep breath and walked into that first baby class.
It turns out they’re not just about the babies — they’re a lifeline for mums too.
First Baby Class Survival Guide
(Based on my extensive research, i.e., showing up a few times and winging it.)
Don’t wear black. Unless you enjoy discovering every speck of baby dribble, milk spit, and unidentified fluff in the cold light of day.
Pack double the nappies you think you need. And then one more. Because the moment you think “I’ll be fine,” your baby will prove you wrong.
Baby outfit envy is real. Someone will have a baby outfit so soft and cute you’ll briefly consider asking them where it’s from mid–‘Wind the Bobbin Up’.
The circle mat is a social minefield. Do you sit too close to someone? Too far? Accidentally block the view of another baby’s mum? Welcome to a whole new level of etiquette.
Songs will get stuck in your head. You will find yourself humming ‘Sleeping Bunnies’ while making dinner. Resistance is futile.
Arrive early-ish. Not to be keen, but to secure a spot near the exit for quick getaways if the “meltdown stage” hits.
It’s okay to talk to strangers. They might just become the friends you text at midnight when your baby is teething and you need moral support.
Final thought:
Leaving that first baby class, I realised it wasn’t really like camping after all. The bag was heavy, sure, and there were moments of uncertainty, but instead of frostbite, I came home with a happy baby, a head full of nursery rhymes, and the beginnings of friendships I didn’t even know I needed. And honestly? That’s a much better adventure.
