Love in the time of coronavirus.
Dear Wiggle Worm,
It seems you will be born into a pandemic.
Here in Belgium, restrictions were announced last night for public health: schools are cancelled, public gatherings prohibited, shops (aside from grocery stores and pharmacies) will be shuttered…Your papa and I will be hunkering down along with the rest of the country.
You’re technically due in 22 days, but the midwife told me yesterday that you’re free to come anytime after Sunday. It’s Friday afternoon and I wondered if the grumbling in my stomach and my desire to clean the whole damn house are signs that you’re thinking of showing up early or simply ways for my body & brain to deal with whispers of anxiety about the virus that is shaking the world right now.
I couldn’t tell the difference so I went to the grocery store to buy the newborn diapers that I’ve been meaning to get. And a few other things. Just in case.
I’m trying to walk the line between being prepared and being paranoid. It’s a hard one to follow when nobody seems to know exactly where it’s drawn these days. Is buying extra milk prudent or silly? How much is enough and how much is selfish?
I can’t tell if my occasional teariness these past few days is situational or hormonal. I imagine that your papa is right when he guesses that it’s likely a combination of both. (I hope you’ll inherit his ability to stay calm and collected no matter what. I both envy and admire that in him.)
There’s a part of me that knows the longer you stay safe inside me, the better off you’ll be when you come out. But the truth is that there’s another part of me that wants you here sooner rather than later — I worry not so much that either of us will get sick, but that the hospital will be too overwhelmed if you wait to come until you’re due. In my head, you’re safest on the other side of labor & delivery when Papa has driven us home from the hospital and we’re all sleepily figuring out how to be a family of three. If I had my way, you’d be here tonight or maybe tomorrow.
But if there’s one gift I hope you’ll get from me, it’s the faith I have in a being bigger than I can even imagine. The belief that we aren’t in this alone and that there’s a design that isn’t completely seen by us. This faith didn’t come easily to me and some days it still doesn’t. So I work actively at leaning into trusting but sometimes the best I can do is hope that my mind will follow where my body goes. I pray and I meditate and I try to make my actions match my intentions. I do the very best I’m able to and then turn everything else over. It’s all I can do.
You will come when it’s your time to come. And I will be as ready as I can be to welcome you when you arrive. Papa will too.
With more love than I ever thought possible,
Mama
