Confessions of a COVID Mom
As I lay here, just two weeks shy of celebrating our little man’s first birthday I am flooded with emotions.
Covid was declared a national emergency 28 days after our son was born. While I am extremely thankful for our health and safety during a time that was not promised, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also filled with sadness. As petty as it may sound, I am mourning the first year of motherhood I joyfully anticipated.
Our first year was missing quite a few expected firsts. My new mom worry was heightened with the fear of my baby contracting a virus no one knew much about. With so much unknown, I did the best I could to protect my son from the virus that took the world by storm—which meant distancing us from most of the world. We had no family outings. We didn’t get to enjoy taking our baby to the zoo or the mall or the library. I didn’t get to show off my cutie to fellow Target shoppers while picking out tiny clothes or toys. For the first time in my memory, we didn’t take a family vacation. Very few of my friends and extended family met our sweet addition and even fewer got to hold him as a newborn. His baby book is filled with photos from different rooms in our home—the place we spent 99% of our time this year. He didn’t get a first photo with Santa, or travel to see family for Thanksgiving, or take his first trip to the pumpkin patch. We didn’t have group play dates or story time. Our church family—who gleefully congratulated us as they watched my pregnant belly grow for nine months—still have not seen the baby they prayed over. We didn’t get to be the “new” parents on the block. His first birthday celebration will be obviously lacking invitations and guests and party favors—instead we will have a quiet dinner with his aunts and grandparents. There is just so much I had planned on planning…
Being a new mom is hard enough, let alone trying to navigate it during these unprecedented times. I was forced into seclusion during a time I needed my village the most. There are relationships that will likely never recover from the craziness of the pandemic. Friends I love that disagreed with the way I chose to keep us safe and were hurt by my decision to hunker down. Family who are understandably brokenhearted when they look at photos of our toddler and realize they will never meet the baby he was. I miss our extended village and I pray that our son will be able to know them someday soon.
When he tells people he was born in 2020, visions of masks and empty toilet paper shelves and silent stadiums is what will fill their heads. I wonder if it will become a joke in the coming years…”Oh, a 2020 baby?! Lucky you!” Thankfully, he will not remember the fear, stress, or loneliness of his first year. But I will.
Through all of the crazy, though, God is good!
We stayed healthy. We grew closer to our immediate family, and to each other. Without the pandemic of 2020, there is no way my husband and I would have been able to spend almost the entire year with our baby boy. We were both able to be present for so many firsts—his first smile, his first laugh, his first steps. We were forced to take in every mundane moment that would have likely been missed with the normalcy of everyday life pre-COVID. In hunkering down we were blessed with time. Time that I am sure many first time parents don’t get the luxury to have. I could choose to focus on what we missed—to be honest, some days I still find myself doing just that—but going forward I am going to focus on what we didn’t miss. We didn’t miss our son’s first year. And that is undoubtedly something to celebrate.