What a difference a week makes.
This time last week, I was wondering how it was going to be possible for my kids to stay home until September. I was told that I may lose my job, which I loved but I also understand that I am lucky beyond measure to have another position to fall back on and have the privilege to be an RN. My husband and I were making plans for the worst-case scenario.
If I am being completely honest and authentic, a part of me was worried that practicing social distancing and isolation would bring me back to the first six months of my son’s life. Those were dark, dark days—- being afraid to leave the house but also feeling like I was being ridiculous for isolating myself. I remember dreading my husband going to work every day because I was so so lonely being at home with my two beautiful babies. This time it is different because I am not forcing myself to stay home — my social responsibility is to STAY AT HOME. I’m not afraid to go outside because someone might judge my parenting. I’m afraid to go outside in fear that I will come in contact with COVID-19 without PPE on.
This Week though,
My husband and I decided to stop planning for the worst-case scenario and start planning for the best-case scenario. We named the worst-case scenario Barney, and by doing this we named our fear. Now we can tell Barney to get stuffed when we are trying to be present with our kids, while we watch the news and while we are having dinner. Barney isn’t welcome in our home. Sidenote: If I could have named my postpartum depression and anxiety it would have been Karen.
When we began thinking about our best-case scenario (BCS), everyone began to relax. BCS is sort of like practicing gratitude but also this allows us to recognize that if we get thrown off by say, another job loss, the BCS is still better to have around than Barney.
Gratitude has a time and a place and is helpful for staying present, but who would I be without goals? Here is my list of the best-case scenarios that can happen during this nightmare we are living through:
- My family survives— I’ll just address the elephant in the room. Yes, it’s hard to stay at home with kids but what’s more difficult is not having them to stay at home with. This social distancing isn’t a snow day. It’s life or death.
- My kids become better friends — Everyone has friends who you endured something really difficult with. Or the teammates that you traveled with to every game for a whole season. Or the staff you work with on a really hard night shift. The bond is unbreakable. If my kids didn’t have that before this, they certainly will after.
- I will appreciate my kid’s teachers even more than I already did — My daughter’s school is streaming classes to her now and we put them right up on the TV. I am truly in awe of how hard they work and their amazing ability to teach the building blocks. I am so thankful for them now more than ever.
- We learn to live on less — I’m noticing about 10 times a day that I say to myself “oh I really want to go get ______” or “I really want to get my nails done” or “I think I’ll go walk around Homesense and see if they have anything cute”. It’s been humbling to notice how often my brain goes from “Sam wants something, Sam looks on Amazon, Sam has something in 2 business days”. Perhaps when we are on the other side of this, we will all have an extra voice that asks if we *really* need that automatic three hold punch off Amazon because it’s 20% off.
- Recognize that the way we are feeling right now (being scared, having our lives turned around, not knowing what is going to happen), is literally the feeling that every parent has when their child is diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. I say to families all the time “the first month is the hardest and then this becomes your new normal”. Parents cry and wonder how life will ever be the same. The answer is that it won’t be the same but how much you love them and how much they love you will not change.
The new normal for us will be hard, I don’t doubt. There are tears happening daily over here. We cry because we are grieving the life that seemed simple and normal. We cry because we are scared. We cry because being isolated for just a week has given us a great gift of humility and perspective. And then when we are done sobbing, we think of our best-case scenarios and how we will make them happen. Hug each other a little tighter and take every day as it comes and without judgment on ourselves.
We are doing the best we can. Everyone is. Now stay the f*ck at home, please.