A few weekends ago, I came home to find a pink envelope on my pillow holding a card from my husband: “Congratulations on Your First Mother’s Day!”

The news of our September-arriving baby came much quicker after our wedding than we had planned, and, since then, we’ve been discussing what this implies for our family life rhythm. Of course, there’s been some nervousness about the approaching life change, but for the most part, my past experience as a nanny and observer to many friends who have become mothers have given me a good backseat view of what to expect and a chance to reflect on the kind of family life pattern I hope to establish as a mom.

It’s also created an opportunity for me to look at my city differently, this time not just as a woman and an occasional biker or pedestrian, but as a mom. I’m already imagining what it will mean to move through the built environment with a baby strapped to my back or in a stroller I’m pushing. It’s bringing plenty to be excited about, but it’s also making me more sensitive to the trade-offs embedded into various patterns of city, street, and neighborhood design, trade-offs that I can’t say I’m excited about.

Trade-Off #1: More Personal Space vs. Proximity

As we prepare for our baby, one of the biggest topics of discussion is whether or not to move out of our one-bedroom garage flat to a home or apartment with a second room. I am coming to understand firsthand the desire for space as one’s family grows along with the desire for other amenities, such as private backyards. Such design features are heavily prominent in suburban neighborhoods and represent some of the top advantages to living in suburban or rural contexts.

For me, it’s not just the need for more space that’s got me searching for a new home, it’s also the desire to be closer to the amenities that we need on a daily and weekly basis. If we were to stay in our current neighborhood, I would not be able to access a grocery store, coffee shop, or playground without a cumbersome car commute. Thanks to the standardization of zoning that prevents businesses from existing within neighborhoods, this is pretty standard in most American neighborhoods, and this pattern of development can make life extremely costly for moms.

By spreading homes, shops, and jobs farther and farther away from each other and requiring the use of a car, our cities essentially force families to spend much time, not to mention money on gas, just to conduct the most basic ordeals of ordinary life. According to “High Mileage Moms,” a 2014 report by the Surface Transportation Policy Project, Americans were driving 88% farther in 1995 than they did in 1969 to conduct errands and 137% farther for social events and errands. “Much of this errand running is conducted by women,” the authors write. “And it is taking place in areas where stores are widely scattered and are often far from housing subdivisions or office parks. Because of this, women are making more trips and covering more miles. The way we’ve built our communities is literally giving mothers the run-around.”

It isn’t difficult to think about what moms could be doing with a few extra hours per week if more essential businesses were situated close to home. The saved time from walking could go into running a small business, participating in local civics, reading, and exercising, or simply spending more time with their children. But not only does the lost time represent lost opportunities. It also represents a loss of freedom for families to design a life in line with their values.

Trade-Off #2: Privacy vs. Social Connection

One thing I’ve learned from living with families is that raising children is much easier when there’s constant access to help, whether that’s from other parents, neighbors, or single friends. Access to this kind of help has the potential to create a deeply nourishing “village dynamic” for moms, similar to what exists in many Indigenous cultures. But in our average North American context, this dynamic is rare, if not impossible to find.

In addition to forcing parents to spend much more time in a car commuting, car-centric design also spreads people apart, making it harder to build social ties. In a survey of 11,000 moms conducted earlier this year, Motherly found that 56% of mothers reported not having access to non-family or unpaid help. Mothering, for them, is a highly individual affair that often leads to burnout. Many moms respond to this absence of support by building online support groups, running book clubs, launching podcasts, or hosting events for moms at their churches.

These efforts to make parenting less lonely are doubtless helpful, but my experiences of living with busy families have taught me that few things bring as much relief to parents as simply being surrounded by a social fabric of nearby and reliable help. Single-family housing can be helpful in bringing families much-needed privacy and protection from noise, yet the way we’ve done it for the past near-100 years also makes it extremely difficult to build and sustain the kinds of supportive fabrics that moms need.

Trade-Off #3: The Convenience of Cars vs. Safe Streets

Although I will always be biased to biking, walking, and using public transit whenever possible, I know that cars doubtless make life easier for many families. Given the layout of our cities, it’s simply hard to beat the convenience, privacy, and improved sense of safety that comes from using a car.

Yet, our society’s decision to invest in car-oriented infrastructure over other means of transportation places a high cost on parents, not just in terms of time spent commuting, but also in terms of safety. The emphasis in our current model of street design on flow, speed, and efficiency often means eliminating design features that would make streets safer for parents and/or children.

For example, in our current neighborhood, there are no sidewalks connecting our portion of the street to other residential streets. If I were to walk with a baby in a stroller, I would have to compete for space with cars moving at 40 to 50 miles per hour. Navigating mixed spaces like parking lots, the college campus where my husband works, or even downtown streets on weekends won’t be risk-free, either: all of these spaces require constant negotiation with massive vehicles, much scarier to do when little children are involved.

So yes, while behind the wheel, I might appreciate streets that make it easier to get my kids from point A to point B, when looking at the big picture, it’s worth asking if driving-friendly roads are really a net gain.

A False Binary

Having tended to many kids in many New York apartments, I know there are benefits to single-family, personal-yard setup of many suburban neighborhoods, and also to the minivan. My problem is not so much with these artifacts themselves, as with the society we’ve created in which families have to choose between either spread-out, single-family living or dense urban living, as though there’s no third option.

But historically speaking, this is a false binary. Historically, many of our cities once featured streetcar suburbs, a hybrid neighborhood in which single-family homes with yards were situated walking distance from commercial cores that contained the ordinary businesses families tend to frequent on a regular basis, and which were serviced by street cars that connected neighborhoods. These streetcar suburbs provided the best of both worlds: both the comfort of having one’s own home, yard, and perhaps even a car with the convenience of having local businesses and public transportation within walking distance.

The either–or binary of urban or suburban living could be addressed by returning to the streetcar suburb model of development. If we had more small businesses in neighborhoods combined with streets safe enough for a child to bike or walk, moms (and families at large) would have more time at their disposal, more options for participating in public life out of the home, more money to spend or save, and more freedom to arrange more custom rhythms of life that fit their evolving needs.