Getting Sticky With Rachel Lapidos

Photos by Tommy Rizzoli, Words by Anamaria Glavan

Rachel Lapidos is the Deputy Beauty Editor at Bustle. She’s also a mom to her (delicious) son, Albert. Motherhood has been beautiful; it’s also been hard. But it’s important to acknowledge that the difficulties she’s experiencing are planted and watered by systemic issues and policy absences.

Financially, anyone who’s ever had to buy a single compact tin of Similac formula knows: having a child takes your budget and blows it into pink- and baby-blue–tinged smithereens. When the average price for a nanny in the NYC area is $30 per hour, how do you keep up?

And emotionally, there’s isolation. For Rachel, the move from city to suburbia brought more space — both literally and metaphorically. How do you meet people in a digital age, particularly in quiet residential neighborhoods that don’t offer opportunities for easy, everyday connection? Mom friends are essential, but making them isn’t easy.

Below, Rachel reflects on the difficulties of shelling out a ton of cash for care (“I’m scared to check my bank account”), the wild, wild, wild west that is Facebook groups, and something no one talks about: that postpartum depression isn’t always immediate. 

Rachel of suburbia 

A lot of life changes happened after Albert’s birthday. We had to enter the childcare space. I’d heard people say it was hard and expensive, but I didn’t fully understand how much goes into it. The search alone was overwhelming. And then there’s the shift of having a stranger taking care of your baby all day. 

Our lease was also up around Albert’s birthday. I’m an innate city person and I never imagined myself becoming a mom that moved to the suburbs. But motherhood shifts your priorities. I wanted Albert to have more space. We couldn’t find any two-bedroom places in the tri-state area that worked for us, so we moved to Sleepy Hollow in Westchester. 

The second I saw the apartment, I fell in love. It was so spacious and in a beautiful building right on the Hudson, next to a grocery store, surrounded by parks and playgrounds. I thought, This is going to be great.

But then we moved and I felt extremely isolated. I kept thinking this place would be filled with moms and kids, and yet, walking along the water or into common areas, everything felt so empty. I just kept thinking, Where the fuck is everyone? Plus, with the longer commute, my husband now leaves earlier and gets home later. 

PSA: Postpartum depression can show up later

I was having really dark thoughts. Crying hysterically, feeling incredibly sad and helpless for days or weeks at a time. I couldn’t emotionally regulate. For the past couple of months, I felt completely unstable.

So I started googling: “Can you get postpartum depression after a year?” Most sources said yes, but mainly cited symptoms persisting or reappearing up to a year after childbirth. Not much addressed what happens after that. Then I came across a 2020 study of 888 mothers that followed participants for up to 21 months postpartum. Only 27.8% experienced PPD within the first year, but the data showed higher levels of depression at 9–12 months and again at 17–21 months. That made me feel less alone. It made sense to me. By that point, you’ve had time to mentally process everything you've been through. It hits later, not always right away.

I’ve been on the same antidepressant, Lexapro, since I was first diagnosed with depression years ago. I took it through pregnancy and haven’t changed anything since. I was only seeing a psychiatrist. But when Albert was about six or seven months old, my mom encouraged me to finally try therapy. I ended up using BetterHelp and it just didn’t work for me. 

I haven’t found someone new yet. It’s hard. I want someone in person, someone who takes my insurance, someone who isn’t wildly expensive, and someone who really understands postpartum issues. It’s such a specific need.

I don’t know why mental health care isn’t easier to access. It should be. Especially for new moms because we’re dealing with so much. There needs to be more resources for us. I need a therapist more than ever right now, but I haven’t found one yet. I don’t know if my prescription needs to change, but I do know I need someone to talk to.

Finding a therapist feels just as hard as finding childcare. And those are probably two of the most important support systems a new parent can have.

There are no resources for us at the hospital. They hand you a dumb little questionnaire—“Do you feel happy most of the time?”—and that’s it. No list of local therapists that take your insurance. No support in finding help that actually fits your life. We’re raising the next generation. We should be taken care of too. If we’re not okay, how can our kids be okay? It’s a public health issue, and it’s mind-blowing that there’s nothing in place for us.

I keep seeing this thing on my feed: It takes six months for your body to heal after giving birth, a year to fully recover physically, and two years for your hormones to regulate. So I’m going to feel like a shell of myself for two full years? That’s a long time. 

Being haunted by a ghost named ‘balance’ 

I recently got a promotion. It’s something I’d worked toward and something I always wanted, but as soon as it happened I thought, Why did I ask for more pressure? Why did I want more responsibility when that means less time with my son? Motherhood is full of contradictions. When I’m with Albert for hours, I’m desperate for a break. But the second my husband offers to take him so I can go out and do something alone, I don’t want to leave. I want to be with him. It makes no sense. I want to thrive in my career, but I also just want to be a mom. 

For example, a few months ago, I had to take a last-minute press trip to D.C. for a beauty gala. I didn’t want to leave Albert. I was upset about it. And my husband said, Think about how cool this is. One day, Albert will hear about how his mom went to D.C. for a gala honoring powerful women. And I realized that he’s right. This is what I worked for. It’s how I support my family. And it’s cool. But it’s also such a mindfuck. 

You have to embrace both identities at once: mom and professional. But they’re constantly in conflict. You want to give your child everything, but you’re still your own person with dreams, a career, and a whole life that existed before them. 

In our shopping carts: childcare and rent, exclusively 

I asked around on Instagram and reached out to moms I know. A lot of people recommended Facebook groups, and that’s how I found our first nanny in Brooklyn before we moved. I had posted in my building’s message board in Williamsburg, and someone responded saying her friend was looking for work.

Her rate was $25 an hour. She wanted a bit more, but we explained we had just been paying a family member (my husband's niece) $100 a day and asked if she could be flexible. Thankfully, she said yes because it was only for two weeks.

Then we moved to Sleepy Hollow and I had to start all over again. I went back to the Facebook groups, but no one seemed like the right fit or their rates were really high. The more research I did, the more I learned that the standard rate—at least around New York and the surrounding area—is $30 an hour. That’s a shit ton of money.

We ended up using Care.com. It has mixed reviews, but most people I’ve talked to have had good experiences. I had to vet the people that applied. Thankfully, I found someone and I immediately liked her. She’s calm, good with Albert, and he likes her. She’s $26 an hour which is still high. It’s not the standard $30, but still a lot.

I told my husband that we’ll need to look into daycare soon. Paying someone $26 an hour for the entire week can’t be a long-term solution for me. I’m scared to look at my bank account. I feel like all of my money is going to childcare and rent.

The Facebook mom groups review. In short: meh 

I’m finding it harder to make mom friends than I thought. I figured that once you have a baby, you’re welcomed into this massive club with open arms. Like when you're walking and see another mom with a stroller, you're just like, In the club, we all fam. But it’s not actually like that. Where the fuck are all the moms? 

We all went through something so life-changing. We created life. A lot of us dealt with postpartum depression. All of us need to connect. It benefits us to talk through these very specific struggles. But that hasn’t been the case for me personally. 

I joined Facebook mom groups because that’s what people recommend. It’s actually more people complaining about marriages or other stuff that’s not helpful. And I feel so thirsty and desperate for that connection now, especially in this new city. When I’m out and see another mom with a baby around Albert’s age, I’ll ask how old their baby is to make conversation. 

I’ve exchanged numbers with maybe four moms in the past three weeks. It’s so weird, but I literally need mom friends. They are a lifeline. I don’t have any that live here. My childhood friends all live in different states. It’s really not what I expected. I thought I’d make friends at the playground every time. But it literally never happens. Ever.

“We don’t just make babies. We make people.” 

I have this extreme, overwhelming feeling of nostalgia for whatever age he is at the moment. I get so sad thinking about how I’m going to miss him right now, how he won’t be this small forever. But somehow, he just keeps getting better and better.

I’ve seen so many moms on TikTok talk about how much they miss the newborn stage, and I get it. He was this tiny, sleepy little human who was completely dependent on me. But watching him develop a personality, start walking, become his own person; that’s just as exciting and amazing in a totally different way. Time is moving faster than it ever has in my life. It’s scary to realize I can’t stop him from growing up, from becoming more independent, even though that’s the point. We don’t just make babies. We make people. That’s hard to put into words.

I can’t believe this perfect little angel is mine. That he depends on me. That he loves me with this unshakable, wordless devotion. It’s the most breathtaking, beautiful feeling I’ve ever known. He’s just so innocent and full of love. He can’t even speak, but I feel it. I see it. There’s nothing else in the world like it.