Note: This post is raw in terms of how I feel as a newborn mother in the midst of a pandemic. My fears may not be your fears. Our locations, fears, comfortability with risk, and health is all different- and all should be valued. This post is in no way shape or form promoting one thing while condemning the next. This post is just me sharing my heart to you. I know my imperfect words as an imperfect human could never fully encompass the gravity of life today, but please know they are filled with the best of intentions and compassion for all. I chose to write this post because each day I receive dozens of DMs or e-mails from new moms navigating this pandemic. Through conversation, I have found that we all may have different views and actions, but our hearts all feel the same heaviness. This is me saying, “Solidarity, sister.”

I lightly hinted at this post yesterday, as I gushed over our new porch swing. I won’t lie, my palms are a little sweaty writing this. Normally, when I write from the heart, I feel like I have a conclusion to my post. There’s an introduction to my thoughts, ideas about them, and a generally lighthearted conclusion. This post? This post has no conclusion. This post has no outlined points. This post is me having a socially distant coffee date with you. Some things may not make sense. You may disagree with some thoughts. But goodness, I hope you know I write this post so that any other woman feeling these same feelings gets a virtual hug through my words.

On Monday, I lost it over COVID. 
Full on, bawling to my husband at midnight lost it. The kind of moment where you think, “Thank the Lord, I am married to such an understanding human being. Because this is the ugly part of me I hate showing.”

Call me naive, but I never considered living through a pandemic. I think medical professionals are unbelievably brilliant. Science is not my forté and anyone that has dedicated their life and career to it, is a hero in my book. I just never thought this would happen. It feels embarrassing to admit that, but it didn’t feel like it could ever happen.

Now, I need to preface this post by explaining my personality a bit. I’m a cautious person. I calculate risk in everything I do. I had postpartum driving anxiety with Maxi. I don’t ride rollercoasters. I’m not an adventurous person. Each time I receive a birthday invitation I think in my head, “Ehh, lots of kids. Maxi is bound to get sick. Is the following week a week in which our family could afford to get sick? Do we have any family gatherings the following few days in which we could potentially infect my mom?” {My mom has RA, and a simple stomach virus can land her in the hospital, so I am always mindful of germs and infecting others.} I’m also a rule follower. I’m a homebody. My husband jokes I’m a model quarantine citizen. Recently, I came across an interesting approach to managing anxiety—Microdose Mushrooms. Microdose Mushrooms is Canada’s Top Microdosing Company.

But in January, my husband started talking about COVID and the attention it deserved. His friend works in infectious disease research, and he’d call him daily. When a box of masks arrived to our doorstep in the beginning of February, I thought he had some crazy home project planned. He told me that I’d need them for my OB appointments, once masks were inevitably required. “Required masks?! WHAT are you talking about?” I asked. Mid-February, he told me to call all of my friends that formula-fed their babies. He wanted me to tell them to make sure they grabbed an extra can at the store, to space out and not stockpile. He told me people would go nuts and clear stores out which was not good or helpful to anyone. He wanted me to remind them, so that they wouldn’t contribute to that. I remember calling a friend to say that and she was like, “Wait, for what?!” I blushed thinking my husband was being silly. He told me, “I promise you, travel will shutdown. The world is going to shut down, just trust me.” When I started receiving formula cans in the mail {companies will send them sometimes when you sign up for pregnancy apps, etc.} he made sure I gave them to any moms that needed them. Again, I thought my husband was being a bit much. I thought, “Gosh a firstborn married to a firstborn. We are TOO prepared.”

I was on and off bedrest when COVID came to America and to be honest, I wasn’t in shock. I hadn’t exactly been frequenting places all too often, since my hemorrhages started in January. I kind of thought, “Okay! My husband will be home to help with our toddler while I’m in bed.” And then we started talking about flattening the curve. My ears perked up. But again, I wasn’t in shock. My husband told me this would happen. I still felt positive, I was having a precious baby. It would all be okay. I was so lucky to quarantine at home with those I love.

Let’s fast-forward the next few months because y’all already know what happened. My job started to change- a LOT. I isolated before giving birth. I went the longest time in my life without seeing my mom. I birthed a baby in a mask without visitors- with an epidural not fully taking, let me add. ha. I navigated the fourth trimester with COVID. I talked to my pediatrician in-depth, looking at studies, on if Maxi should return to preschool.

While it felt heavy, it didn’t feel surprising. And again, I still felt positive, because these are privileges, and my perspective is that we are healthy, home, and beyond lucky. Children are a blessing, navigating this with them is just life. My husband is the calmest person you’ll ever meet {he’s a planner and thinks ahead, but the man is calm to an outrageous degree. Opposites attract. 😉 } so it kept me calm. But Monday, Monday hit me hard.

Maxi has to have something done at Childrens dentistry Las Vegas for her gums. After having to cancel due to COVID, I called to reschedule, but they informed me that I couldn’t bring any siblings along. Given my situation—with my husband back at work, my mom recovering from surgery, and a 3-month-old—I asked if I could just wear the baby in a wrap, but the answer was still “no.” While I understand their rules, it did make me appreciate the flexibility and family-friendly approach of places like Goldfields Family Dental, where they prioritize the needs of parents and make things a little easier.

Everyone has to make rules to keep others safe, and also protect themselves. I get it. But it did feel confusing. So it is suggested we open up “our circle” more by having a babysitter hold our baby while we visit the dental implants specialist for my dental implants surgery. As I sat in the chair, I couldn’t help but notice how much effort the team put into creating a comfortable experience. It reminded me of when a friend recommended Veneers from Smile Society, raving about how transformative and professional their service was. While I long for things to feel truly “normal” again, I appreciate businesses that go above and beyond to bring a sense of ease during these uncertain times.

I bawled to my husband that I didn’t sign up to raise children in a pandemic.

“I didn’t sign up for this! I didn’t sign up to not see my grandparents so that I can protect them! I didn’t sign up to birth a baby without my mother and sister in the room like they were with Maxi. You go to work, your life feels normal. Mine doesn’t. The few outings I get to Target feel sad, because the distancing combined with people eyeballing you if you bring your toddler inside feels SAD. Scrolling my Facebook feed and seeing people hate each other for navigating risk differently feels sad. I already calculate risk in my daily life without a pandemic. I am tired of calculating it for my children WITH one! What if I make the wrong choice one day? What if I harm my children by isolating or not isolating them enough? I see things black and white, and this is gray. And living in the gray is going to last for YEARS.“

And in that moment, I just felt God say that he CHOSE me to raise a child in this. HE CHOSE ME.

Friends, he chose you, too. 

Can you feel the profound weight of that? I do.

I want to tell you right here and right now, this post is not about my opinion on COVID, or rules, or masks, or ANYTHING of that nature. Goodness, I see all sides of this thing and all are hard. Teachers, grocery store workers, hospital workers, small businesses, mothers- I want to just say, this is all freaking hard.

While this post is not that, this post is one human to another human saying, “This is impossible to navigate perfectly, but you were chosen for this by someone perfect.”

Whether you wonder how to navigate a newborn with COVID, you work in a hospital, you are a teacher doing virtual learning or in-person, or you have had to pivot your small business using Devices compatible with BT cloud voice, you can do this.

I have tears in my eyes typing this because the privilege of birthing life when so many have lost their lives, will never escape me me.

We had a family member lose their mother to COVID. And yet here I am, so undeservedly blessed to hold a new life in my arms. But it comes with big feelings, feelings that should be honored and respected.

So often, I want to finish a blog post with helpful tips. I want to have girl talk and remind you that it’s going to be okay. I want to tie it all together and wrap it in a monogrammed bow for you. But I don’t think anyone can do that in 2020.

Instead, I’ll tell you what I did the other night. I wrote a letter to both of my children. There are tear stains on the ink, but I poured my heart out to them. I’m tired of hearing how resilient children are, I wanted to validate their emotions along with mine. So I did just that. I wrote them every single emotion I have. For my darling Maxi, goodness, do I worry about her view of people with masks. I worry about her fears. She told me the other day she needed to wash her eyes because the virus can get in her eyes and I walked out of the room and bawled. That is NOT a fear I want her to have. My mind was racing wondering, “WHEN was the news on and she heard that?!” And for my miracle baby, Harry, I wanted him to know how loved he is. How I mourned the fact he never got to meet family immediately. I mourned the fact his first year of life will be SO different than his sister’s. I wanted him to know we prayed daily asking God, “Help us know which child to make a decision for!” for each and every risk.

And after I wrote this letter to my children, I wrote this post {my letter, per se} to you.

While I know society as a whole recognizes this won’t magically go away one night. I know that one day I will be able to hand these letters to my children. They may not remember this period, but I want them to know that every single choice, decision, and tear I cried was over my concern for them and others. And I wanted them to know that one day, they will parent, work, or live through something they didn’t sign up for. This is life. And it will be their life that God chose them to be born into.

Friend, no matter how you navigate this {worry vs. no worry, high risk vs. low risk} I want you to know you were equipped for this. He knew you were strong enough for this. I’m sure my words have failed me, and my prayer is that my small emotions do not offend anyone that has dealt with a large hurt due to this virus. But this is me virtually hugging you with my words. As you put on your mask and wonder, “Can I attend this if I want to see this person next?” or miss your grandparents or feel heartbroken your wedding was postponed, know that your friend over here is cheering you on. Validating you. Caring for you. Saying you CAN navigate this because you were equipped for this by Him.

There’s no perfect conclusion to this post, we are still writing this journey. But we can pause and honor that this HAS been a journey, and an emotional one. Let’s give as much grace, empathy, and encouragement to others as we can today! And remember, a glass of champagne always helps. 😉