Emma Bing isn’t asking for much — just a bit of compassion from her fellow humans. Emma — the daughter of What to Expect When You’re Expecting author Heidi Murkoff, cover model for the What to Expect book series and What to Expect's lifestyle editor — is the mother of two sons, Lennox, 6, and Sebastien, 1. Recently, what was supposed to be a fun outing with baby Sebastien turned serious when Emma had to rush him to the emergency room. But instead of receiving help or sympathy from her fellow restaurant-goers, Emma was met with mom-shaming and critical judgment. Below, Emma shares her story.
It was a Saturday in Santa Monica, and I was shopping with a friend and my 12-month-old son, Sebastien, when he started to cry. This was, of course, nothing out of the ordinary — he’s barely over a year old, and I’ve been a mom for six years and counting.
Noticing that Seb was wincing a little, too, I ran through the list of usual suspects in my mind. Did he poop? Is he hungry? Maybe a diaper rash? I carried him to the changing table in the store’s bathroom to perform a routine diaper change. As we entered the bathroom, Sebastien’s cries were going from a level of minor discomfort to full-blown screaming. But when I finally got him on the changing table and took off his diaper, nothing was there.
That’s weird, I thought. I changed him anyway and got him dressed, but his cries were relentless. I took him out of the bathroom and tried to soothe him, only to be met with more screams (and watching eyes from strangers). Cue: anxiety. While a crying baby is enough to make any parent or guardian feel nervous, I have an anxiety problem of my own. It’s already tough to calm a young baby, let alone to do it in public, by yourself and with strangers shooting you wide-eyed glares.
Trying to stick with the original plan — and thinking Seb might benefit from some food — we relocated to a restaurant for dinner. But shortly after arriving, I started to question how long we would actually stay. In my entire life, I had never seen a baby on-and-off scream for such a long time like Sebastien was.
I decided to take Seb outside to comfort him and escape the crowded restaurant. In this case, though, “outside” wasn't quite the right term — the oceanfront locale had open-air windows, so there was no sound barrier. Despite my best efforts to shield Seb’s cries from other diners, the restaurant’s setup made it nearly impossible. Before I knew it, every single person in the restaurant was either staring, glaring or whispering about me. I even noticed the waiters’ eyes casting judgment.
“Shh, Sebastien, you’re okay, sweetheart,” I said, trying to comfort my son. It was getting to the point where this couldn’t simply be brushed off as a kid having a tantrum. I began to think something was truly wrong with my baby boy. Cue: panic. I quickly approached the valet and felt beads of sweat form along my forehead.
“Please, I need my car, I need to take my baby to the hospital,” I said, frazzled and anxious. At this point, Sebastien was starting to turn blue and was absolutely inconsolable. Noticing the valet attendant walking to my car at a pace slower than is normal (let alone for a mom trying to get her son to the emergency room), I repeated myself, voice quivering. “I just really need to get my car, my baby needs to go to the emergency room, please.”
As we waited for what seemed like hours, I glanced around the restaurant only to find what felt like a thousand pairs of eyes staring back, casting shame. I heard a group of four snickering at us and immediately felt even worse. Looking the other way, I noticed a couple in the window staring, and the woman rolled her eyes at me. I felt terrified, insecure and helpless.
Don’t get me wrong — I understand a sobbing baby in the middle of dinner doesn’t exactly make for a quaint ambience, but I felt like this situation was different than a run-of-the-mill cry session. This was my youngest son, screaming and wincing, and me, his mom, trying to get him to a hospital as soon as possible, fighting tears of my own.
Despite the fact that I was asking for help (and actively trying to leave the restaurant), no one asked if we were okay. No one asked if we needed assistance. No one even offered a look of understanding or sympathy. I had never felt so alone in front of so many people in my entire life. Not to mention, this was a Saturday night in Santa Monica on Ocean Avenue — plenty of people were around and could have offered some support.
Eventually, we hopped in the car and zoomed to the hospital, where my husband and our older son, Lennox, met us. We learned that Sebastien had suffered from something called intussusception, meaning his intestines collided into one another, which was (unsurprisingly) extremely painful for him. Fortunately, the problem fixed itself on its own as quickly as it began, and Sebastien made a full recovery — but it could have been far more serious.
While the most important thing is that our baby is fine now, I can’t help but vividly remember the faces of those around us at the restaurant — the critical looks, eye rolls, little-too-loud whispers and no offers of help. This lack of compassion made a stressful situation far worse. What I needed was help and understanding, and I received shame and judgment in return.
People can be judgmental without knowing the whole story — that’s something I, too, have been guilty of. But if I saw a mother crying out for help in a vulnerable situation, I know I wouldn’t have simply watched, and I certainly wouldn’t have made her feel ashamed. I understand that a loud and crying baby is, well, loud. But a mother in need is just that: a mother in need. Parenting is tough work, and kindness from a stranger when it's needed most can help more than you might think. I know I'll remember that going forward, and I hope others do, too.
As told to Haley Jena
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