Nurturing a Love for Nature in the City
By Erica Zazo
As most adventures with a baby go, I start our first-ever urban hike for our 4-month-old a little off schedule. AJ is not quite old enough for trail snacks, so I feed her a bottle in the back of our vintage Toyota Hiace before heading into Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary. Fueling up (if you’re a baby or not) is an important step to take before an adventure, of course.
Once she’s settled, we strap her into our soft carrier on my wife, Courtney, while I slip on my backpack with water, a Birds of Illinois field guide, and a pair of Nocs for spotting whatever feathered friends we might find. We also have a slew of diapers, wipes, and an extra bottle in tow, too, of course.
AJ is already curious—her little eyes darting toward the emerald green of the urban forest in front of us. She soaks in the blue shimmer off Lake Michigan, which she can see beyond the break in the trees. From her perch above Courtney’s shoulder strap, she takes it all. The Chicago skyline towers in the distance across the lake, and the overwhelming bustle of the city lies just beyond the patch of forest we hide in on this adventure.
But here, in this urban oasis, we’re miles away from it all.
My wife and I feel lucky that we’re able to raise AJ in an environment where she can learn from, grow up in, and be influenced by both city life and wildlife.
We’re raising a nature-loving baby in the middle of an urban metropolis—and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Learning to raise a baby in the city has been its own kind of adventure—one filled with unexpected lessons, small joys, and fresh ways of seeing the world. As a new parent who loves urban nature, I’ve discovered that the city itself can be both playground and classroom, shaping how my little one—and I—connect with the outdoors.
Raising a baby in the city doesn’t mean giving up on nature—it just means finding it in new places.
Here are my biggest reflections from our family’s first year exploring together.
Slowing Down
Motherhood forced me to slow down in a way I never had before. During parental leave, we spent more time at home than ever—long stretches indoors when I felt cut off from my old adventure routine. For two people who once packed our weekends full of camping trips, hikes, or bike rides, staying still felt strange. But slowing down also changed my perspective.
It made me fall back in love with the city parks and green spaces right here in my own backyard. These places I’d overlooked when I was busy escaping to “better” destinations every weekend. Now, I walk slower, I notice new trees, I find new paths—all because I’m pointing it all out to AJ.
In teaching her to notice nature that’s in our city, I’m learning to notice (and fall in love) with it again, too.
We’ve started treating even the smallest excursions—like walking a mile to our local coffee shop down tree-lined streets or through our neighborhood park—as little journeys. Little adventures. When you have a baby, you can’t rush. You’re stopping to feed, to soothe, to let them grab a fistful of grass or marvel at a flower. Those pauses have opened me to wonder in a way I never would have allowed myself before.
Redefining Adventure
One of the biggest shifts for me has been redefining what counts as “adventure.” Before parenthood, adventure often meant traveling far, climbing high, or pushing myself physically. Now, it looks different. It can be dipping AJ’s toes into Lake Michigan for the first time, or spotting a heron in the river while the skyline towers above us. It can be slowing down enough to feel the breeze on a park bench, with a baby giggling in my lap.
Even something as simple as a road trip to Milwaukee became an adventure. We visited a new park with a massive wooden troll sculpture—part of a series installed by artist Thomas Dumbo. It wasn’t a remote wilderness, but it was magical. We walked AJ through the trails, stopped at coffee shops, and even popped into a brewery, all while figuring out how to navigate the world with her in tow. We worried how people might react to us—two queer moms with a new baby—but instead we were met with warmth. Strangers congratulated us, cooed over AJ, and made us feel seen. That affirmation reminded me that adventure isn’t only about the place; it’s also about the people you meet along the way.
Taking Up Space
Living in a city means nature isn’t at your doorstep in the same way it might be in a mountain town. You don’t just open your door and step into the wilderness. You have to go looking for it, even if it’s just around the block. That takes planning—loading up a stroller, timing naps with outings, working through traffic or crowds. It’s not effortless, but it’s worth it. Because these small, intentional choices add up to a childhood steeped in nature.
Sometimes we pack the car to the brim with bags and gear, strap AJ into her seat, and battle traffic (and a few meltdowns) to get out of the city. And sometimes the drive makes us question whether getting out of town is worth it. But then, when we pitch our tent, breathe in fresh forest air, and watch AJ light up under the trees—it feels like victory.
I remember our first camping trips with AJ at 8 weeks old, we chose a weekday to avoid crowds. I worried about our baby’s cries bothering other campers. But as we sat around the fire, rocking her to sleep under the stars, I realized how much unnecessary pressure I was putting on myself. Nobody blinks when groups of drunk campers keep us up until 3 a.m., but I was anxious about my baby’s needs encroaching on the experience of other campers.
In that moment of reflection, a realization struck me: babies belong outside, too.
Rediscovering Community
One surprise of parenting in the city has been the community it revealed. Before AJ, my circle was mostly outdoorsy friends who had the exact same interests as me—camping, hiking, biking, and climbing.
Now, I see parents—and make new friends—everywhere. Lesbian moms pushing strollers in our neighborhood, families picnicking at the park, strangers congratulating us on our new little. Suddenly, our city feels bigger, more connected, and more supportive than I ever expected—especially as queer parents.
We’ve met new friends we never would have crossed paths with otherwise. People who may not care about backcountry trips but love biking to the playground, hiking an urban path with a baby strapped on for the ride, or simply strolling through the farmer’s market with their little ones. Parenting has widened our circle and reminded me that community can be built in unexpected places.
Parenthood cracked something open in us: a new way of connecting to others, even if the common ground is simply two strollers parked side by side at our local park.
Everyday Wonder
At the heart of it all, raising a baby in the city has taught me to engrain nature into the everyday.
It’s not about recreating someone else’s version of adventure. It’s about noticing the small things—geese flying over the river, the crunch of woodchips under stroller wheels, the way AJ’s face lights up when the wind brushes her cheeks.
I used to think the outdoors had to be vast to be meaningful. Now I know it can also be intimate. It can be a backyard patch of grass, a lakefront sunrise, or the quiet joy of watching your child discover a dandelion for the first time.
Raising a baby in the city means learning to make space for wonder right where we are. And while it looks different from mountain towns or backcountry trails, it’s no less real.
This is our version of adventure—messy, intentional, urban, and beautiful.