Let’s face it: We all have visions of motherhood that are worlds different than the reality when it finally hits. Usually, I blame Instagram for this — being a new mom definitely isn’t standing in a field in a long, flowy dress, makeup perfectly done with a sleeping newborn in our arms. But for anyone who welcomed a baby in 2020, like I did, the visions of new motherhood go so beyond this, it’s kind of ridiculous. Becoming a mom during a worldwide pandemic has come with so many complicated emotions, and this experience is nothing like what I planned for.
My baby’s birth was nothing like what I imagined
When giving birth for the first time, I’d always imagined my mom would be in the room with me, with my dad and my sister on hand in the waiting room, but that dream got shot down pretty quickly. Every few days, I’d check my hospital’s website to see if there had been any updates to their visitor’s policy, but there never had. By the time I gave birth in June, I felt lucky just to know that my husband could definitely be by my side.
Ultimately, I ended up having a totally unplanned c-section, and in the days that followed in the hospital, we weren’t able to have any visitors. Other moms told me this was a blessing in disguise. According to them, having hospital visitors was really stressful, and they would have appreciated the time to just settle in with their partner and baby. To me, though, I felt like I was missing out on the experience of introducing my baby to the people I loved as soon as she’d been born, and I could never get that back.
I didn’t get to share my new baby with my friends the way I wanted to
Before the pandemic hit, almost all my conversations with my best friends included our plans to include my daughter in our normal activities — dinners out, trips to Disney World, days spent aimlessly walking around Home Goods and TJ Maxx would now be adapted to accommodate the newest member of our crew, and I felt so lucky that my baby would be surrounded by so many people who loved her and wanted her around.
That obviously didn’t happen, though. So far, she’s met two of my closest friends, both outside wearing masks for just a few minutes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I’ve been able to introduce her to a couple of my friends, but I can’t help but mourn the fact that some of the people I’m closest to are missing these months of her life.
The whole experience has been so isolating
Being a new mom is already such an isolating experience — no matter how many people have come before you, when you’re in the thick of the way it changes every area of your life, you feel alone. Being a new mom in a pandemic is a different kind of isolating. You can’t join play groups. Your best friend can’t come over and hold the baby and let you nap. You can’t hang out with your other new mom friends and let your babies interact. Not without masks, which babies can’t wear.
Every cough is absolutely terrifying
Even without a pandemic, I’d probably be paranoid about my baby’s health — I think that’s just part of being a new mom. But now, every cough gives me pause. From her, from my husband, from me. I’m constantly Googling symptoms and checking her to see if she feels warm. Has she been anywhere she could contract COVID-19? No, of course she hasn’t. She doesn’t leave the house. But it doesn’t stop that anxiety from creeping in.
All babies cough. All human beings cough. It’s not supposed to bring a feeling of dread that hits the pit of your stomach and makes you wonder if your baby is going to end up being a statistic.
I feel like I’m missing out on everything about being a "regular mom"
Target runs with a baby in tow. Story time at the library. Going anywhere, doing anything, without wearing a mask and being painfully conscious about what I’ve touched and where my hand sanitizer is. I knew that being a new mom would come with a lot of adjustments, but these aren’t the ones that I planned on making.
I don’t get to make local mom friends and see them in person, and it breaks my heart that my extremely social baby is being hidden away from the world. She doesn’t know that there are people, aside from me and her dad and her grandparents and aunt. She doesn’t know that there are places, aside from our house and her grandma’s house and the pediatrician’s office. She doesn’t know that there are other animals besides our dog and two cats, who she smiles at every time she sees, who she just learned to reach out and pet.
I don't feel like myself anymore
Taking extra precautions means I can’t take part in my favorite hobbies anymore — the things that make me feel like me. As a new mom, I’ve already been experiencing the identity crisis that comes with this all encompassing new stage of life, and now, I’m unable to cope with the feelings that brings because, in these crazy times, my coping mechanisms have been canceled.
In the meantime, I see people — people I love, people I respect — out at dinner inside restaurants, getting on planes and going on vacations, and I feel so angry. On one hand, I know that they don’t have a new baby, and they don’t need to be as cautious as I do. I know that it’s up to each of us to assess our own risk and take the precautions we feel are necessary, but the anger comes anyway. Don’t they know there’s a pandemic going on all around us, that people are dying every day?
It’s like my life is on pause, and everyone else went back to their lives as much as they could. I am in my house with my baby, because that’s the best way I know how to keep her safe. This has been more isolating than anything else.
It has been so hard, but it's only temporary — I hope
We may be in for a hard winter, but I have hope that things will get better. This isn’t forever, and my husband and I have been working on finding ways to feel more normal in the meantime, like taking walks through our neighborhood and finding outdoor, distanced activities to do before it gets too cold outside. We recently took her on her first outing ever: a quick visit to the pumpkin patch. She laughed when she saw all the people, people who aren’t her family. She beamed at the activity and life all around her. There is so much more of that to show her, and the day will come when I get to do that.
In the meantime, my baby and I are safe and sound, and one day, I will tell her how she and I got through this year, together.
