Quarantine Life

Social distancing is a set of nonpharmaceutical infection control actions intended to stop or slow down the spread of a contagious disease.

Hard to believe when this year began, I had no idea what those two words put together meant.

I also thought I would never wait in line at the grocery store for more than five minutes without either huffing and puffing because my time was so valuable.

I never thought I would be googling "tips and tricks to help first graders learn remotely."

I never thought leggings would be my "uniform" each day.

I never thought my kid would live solely in pajamas.

I never thought I could go more than a few days without seeing my family, friends, or coworkers.

I never thought I would see playing outside as a gift.

I never thought I would have to cancel my daughter's birthday party.

I never thought about a lot of things.

It's been barely a week since we have been self-isolating, and my perception of the world has undoubtedly changed.

It's super hard to keep a kid entertained and work remotely and keep everyone calm at the same time. Which is why I am thrilled that Gary and I are in this together. Do not think for one moment that does not mean that he is happy with this situation. He gets the brunt of my anxiety. He just rolls with it, though. We have managed to find a routine that works for us, although if this lasts much longer (which come on, we all think it will), we may need to tweak it. I do breakfast. He does lunch. I do dinner. He runs bathtime. I do the housework. He braves the outside world for food. I do arts and crafts. He does the lessons. I do the bike rides. We all take outdoor walks.

Good news, folks! I like my family. Like really enjoy them. What a relief.

And what a disaster this would be if I did not.

I work for a domestic violence agency, and this is a TERRIBLE time for some of our clients, as you can imagine. We are doing the best we can to make sure help is still available for them.

This time in our lives is like no other. I hope we look back on it and think about what we learned and how much it shaped us.

All I know is that I have a little girl who may not get much of a birthday this year.  However, if that means she will have a hundred other birthdays, then we will do what we have to do.

I am sad and scared and find myself sinking deep into a dark place. I have had to turn off the news, put my phone down, and walk away from it all. Naps help. 

I am also cautiously optimistic that this will just be a blip in the story of my life.

All of our plans have gotten canceled or postponed. I am someone who thrives on plans and things to look forward to, so that is hard for me. But I am also someone who loves a lot of people who are older than me or are immunocompromised, and I will do what I have to do to make sure they are safe.

It's been a little over a week.

I will check in again when it's been longer to see if I have changed my tune. It's possible I will be singing a totally different song.

I thought it was important to get some of my thoughts down since I hope to never experience a time like this again.

It's ironic - as a mom who has buried a child, you think that THAT is the worst thing that can ever happen. Turns out, no one gets a pass in life. The bad things keep coming. It's how you cope with them that shows your true grit.

Family time

Make Your Own Scrunchies

Remote Learning

Outdoor Play

Paint Your Own Rocks

Us

Daily Bike Ride

Most patient cat ever!

Silent All These Years

Years go by, will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand

Years go by, if I'm stripped of my beauty and the orange clouds raining in my head

Years go by, will I choke on my tears 'til, finally there is nothing left

One more casualty, you know we're too easy, easy, easy

Silent all these years. 

I've been here silent all these years

Silent all these, silent all these years

~Tori Amos

For some reason, this song has been in my head all day. I used to listen to it over and over in high school. I would blare the tape in my car while smoking clove cigarettes and thinking I knew all there was to know about life.

Why did this song resonate with me? I am not one to be silent. I wasn't then, and I am not now.

On this night, eight years ago, we went to our last Labor & Delivery Class. Gary did not want to wear the pregnancy belly. I did not want to watch the video of a real birth. All I wanted was to ask the nurse who was teaching the class why I did not feel my daughter kick anymore.

On this night, eight years ago, we stopped for milkshakes on the way home. The sugar was supposed to make my baby kick.

On this night, eight years ago, our company was closed for Good Friday the next day, so it was worth it to call the doctor and then go to the hospital for reassurance because we didn't have to work in the morning, so it did not matter if we were tired.

On this night, eight years ago, I lost my innocence and naivete.

On this night, eight years ago, my baby died.

She may have died earlier in the day. She may have died the day before. There was no way to know. She was alive on Tuesday at our 37-week appointment. She was not alive by the time they did an ultrasound on this night, eight years ago.

I miss my first daughter. I wonder what she would look like today and what she would like to do. I wonder what her favorite color would be and if she would look like me.

On this night, eight years ago, I vowed to not be silent. My daughter would be remembered. And she is.

Happy almost birthday, sweet Allie. We love you more.