OK, I'll give you MY truth, not necessarily anyone else's!
I went out for our first meal about 7 hours after DS was born, no fucking way was I cooking after being in hospital for 4 days. Nope.
Within a week, I was in town, going for an eye test, baby in pram on my own.
Driving to see friends an hour away, taking trips to the inlaws, joining baby groups,
As we were grappling with finding a routine- crafty little bugger could SMELL the kettle going on, I couldn't make myself a cuppa. Baby didn't want to be put down. Nothing seemed achievable.
Within a few weeks, we found our rhythm, between his baby carrier, and his vibrating chair he has for the kitchen, we did pretty well. I'd prepare a basket of washing, take him down and pop him in his chair, run up, get washing and sing or talk as I loaded the machine. I'd pop him in a carrier, squat down at the washing machine, take a few bits out to the lune at a time.
DS is chilled, at 18 weeks my life pretty much resembles life before I had him (except right now, we both have covid!)
The carrier literally is a lifesaver.