In 13 years this will be a story we tell
Today’s story comes from Heather Flaherty in Bellingham, Washington. She welcomed her first daughter into the world in May. Today Heather shares her reflections on some of the unique aspects (both hard and good) of pregnancy and the postpartum period during the pandemic. Stay tuned for her birth story in the coming weeks.
Early on in my pregnancy I was on an Alaska Airlines flight and ordered their Signature Cheese Plate. As I ate the brie, I wondered if the cheese was pasteurized. The label didn’t indicate whether it was, so I called customer care when we landed. They didn’t know either. I was appalled! I internally vented, “This could be dangerous for pregnant women! How could they not know how their cheese is processed?”
I shared my outrage with my travel companion, a mom of three. Her response was “Heather, there are so many things to worry about as a mom. And it’s never going to be the cheese.” I could not have imagined then that six months later my worries would shift from navigating cheese to navigating a global pandemic — an actual worst nightmare for all of us, and surreal to live through as a pregnant woman and new mom.
I imagine parts of my story might be common to other women — from pregnancy to postpartum, as well as finding the gifts in this upside-down world. I take comfort in the knowledge that I am not alone in my experiences and feelings, especially as a brand new mom. I share both to have a record of this once-in-a-lifetime event of giving birth in a pandemic and in case it’s helpful to other new moms in their journey.
All the Pregnancy Feels
Anxiety about the possibility of delivering alone
I spent an afternoon reading about what was happening in New York City regarding the banning of all support people from deliveries. Even in everyday life I struggle with anxiety, so the unknowns around the experience of giving birth were overwhelming enough. To think I might have to go through it alone was enough to reduce me to a puddle of tears.
I can’t believe that some hospitals did have this policy for a time, and my heart goes out to all the brave moms who lived through that nightmare. My local hospital tried to assure me it was an unlikely scenario for me. But they also told me to have a back-up person in case my partner had any symptoms of COVID-19.
So the worry never really went away.
Sadness over cancelled celebrations
Showers were scheduled and invites had gone out. But slowly it became apparent that it would not be safe to celebrate in person. I am so grateful for the people in my life who got creative and wouldn’t let the moment pass without acknowledgment and gathering virtually. I’ll certainly never forget my Zoom showers and drive-by porch celebrations. But nothing beats seeing a smile, giving a hug, and hearing laughter and loving words in person.
What strikes me now is how we thought we’d simply postpone celebrations until the summer, have a sip-and-see, and still mark the moment together in-person. Clearly we now know that this will be a longer journey than we initially imagined.
Apprehension and adjusted expectations about the hospital experience
No visitors allowed.
No grandparents or siblings in the waiting room.
Just you, your partner, and the delivery team.
What a wildly different experience than during ordinary times.
That being said, I was fortunate that a close friend who works in the Childbirth Center was our nurse during delivery. She coached me as I pushed our baby out into the world. After that experience, I have a new appreciation for nurses, as well as a deeper bond with that friend.
And despite some of the challenges due to the restrictions, there were some benefits. Given how exhausted I was after giving birth, I appreciated having time to rest and figure out how to breastfeed and hold a newborn. So it was in some ways a gift to be cocooned with our new family member, just the three of us.
Small & Large Postpartum Disappointments
Physical distancing is agony
With the unknowns around the long term effects of COVID-19 and the high potential for asymptomatic carriers, as a family we have been extremely cautious by limiting our exposure to people. We have declined requests from loved ones to hold and snuggle our baby. People have only met her from a distance, and even then, at times my anxiety flares up.
I regret that we won’t have photos of her meeting her family and our friends as a newborn. We have been robbed of these precious moments.
Staying safe and (mostly) quarantined
We don’t feel it is safe to take our daughter to many places. We’re not going to breweries or restaurants, or over to friend’s houses. And in what might be one of the most trivial (but no less of a bummer) daily losses, we have so many cute outfits for the baby that no one gets to see. We are fortunate to live in the pacific northwest however, and have found joy in the routine of walking our neighborhood trails.
Screen-time overload
On the one hand, thank goodness for smartphones and the internet, as those tools give us access to some form of staying connected. On the other hand, I’m tired of connecting with people through a screen. I grow weary of looking at a pixelated version of myself and others on Facetime or Zoom. Screen connections just aren’t the same. And I find myself feeling very conscious of texting too many photos of our new baby to compensate for the lack of in-person time.
Gifts to Treasure from this Season
Extra time together
We are all going through this pandemic with varying degrees of privilege and sacrifice. I recognize I’m privileged to work from home and have a partner who works from home now too. One of the biggest gifts is that during traditional leave, he would have physically gone back to work after a few days, leaving me to figure out life with our daughter alone. Seeing the two of them bond and connect throughout the day has made a huge difference.
The demand of presence and lowered expectations
In all of my preparation for a baby, I didn’t think that much about the process of becoming a mother. Part of this process has been the shifting of my identity. And that has felt both lonely and transformative at times. Physical distancing and isolation magnify the tough parts of that process.
But all of this has allowed me to be present with my new daughter and to enjoy the fullness of the small moments — the joy in a coo or new noise she’s learning to make; complete delight in watching her first smiles; her milk-drunk sleepiness; and amazing post-nap stretches. The slowness of life right now has given me the tremendous gift of paying attention and has taken away the pressure of showing up physically to events, parties, and gatherings with friends and family.
Staying hopeful
I’m not sure what the coming months have in store, but I keep praying for a vaccine sooner than later. I recently read that it will be June 2021 at earliest.
Margot will be 1 year old then.
That sometimes feels overwhelmingly far away. In one of my more anxious moments considering this, I texted a friend who is an epidemiologist, seeking some glimmer of hope. She responded, “Just breathe. Keep being smart about masks, physical distancing, and washing your hands. In 13 years this will be a story you tell Margot.”
We are indeed looking forward to these events becoming a story we tell instead of a reality we live. And we remain hopeful about what our new normal already is and might become.
