As restaurants newly reopen (and close) across America, it got me thinking about breaking bread with loved ones in my first weeks as a new mom. My friends know that I’m in my element when sharing good food and good stories. Social interactions were especially important shortly after having my first child, who was born in January. Little did I realize how precious and brief our window would be to enjoy the world before social distancing.
I planned to spend my first month postpartum mostly resting at home. I figured that there would be plenty of time to hop back into the world later. My family was talking about COVID-19 around the time of my baby’s birth, but the virus seemed so far away when my spouse and I were preoccupied with caring for a newborn.
In retrospect, I’m glad I did a bit of socializing. It was wonderful to celebrate my baby’s arrival and get some respite from 24/7 care giving. Spending time outside my new mom bubble also helped me gain perspective on how parenthood fit into my existing identity.
A Typical Start To The Fourth Trimester
February was unseasonably warm, making it more appealing than usual to venture out. Our first adventure as a new family of three was an impromptu stop for burgers. It was a quiet weekday afternoon as we headed home from baby’s one-week checkup. We sat outside, and the only thing better than nibbling on fresh fries were the smiles and congratulations from people walking by.
The next day was our bris, a joyous gathering with a handful of friends and enough New York bagels, homemade kugel, and fruit to feed an army. A week or so later, and nearing peak exhaustion, my spouse and I slipped out for lunch—just the two of us and my first taste of raw oysters in a year. We strolled through bustling Old Town Alexandria, ducking into a sweets shop for a gift to thank my mom for babysitting. And I even managed two or three outings with friends; what a thrill it was to slip into skinny jeans and sip on a beer.
By the end of February, I was getting excited to more fully venture back into society. Friends offered to come over to bake pretzels and cook dinner. I was looking forward to stroller walks at the mall and sushi meetups with other moms. And I was planning my baby’s 100-day milestone party—a loosely Asian/Jewish-inspired answer to a traditional American baby shower, which my family had skipped.
And then in March, everything paused.
Society Slows, But Babies Don’t
In the first few weeks of COVID-19 shutdowns, I didn’t talk much about missing the typical experiences of new parenthood. Why complain about canceling our 100-day party? So what if I can’t go out to brunch with friends or have them stop by with food? Everyone else had to deal with the same restrictions, too. Better to focus on the silver linings: my baby is healthy, my spouse and I can spend extra time at home with him, and we have a roof over our heads and food on the table. Those things are all true, and I’m incredibly thankful for them.
But the what-ifs and what-would-I-be-doings still bothered me. Especially as my fussy, sleepy newborn blossomed into a giggly, curious infant. I was also starting to feel mentally and physically recharged. Oh, how fun it would be to take my baby to experience the world! Yet it became increasingly clear that we’d be spending his first few months of life mostly secluded at home.
Heightened Sense of Isolation
Being a new parent is hard. Sheltering in place makes it harder. I didn’t realize how much dinner with friends bolstered my mood until it became a hazard. It’s well documented that new moms already often feel isolated, and some research suggests that millennial moms are more prone to experience depression than their predecessors. Hardly anyone is immune from potential depression, exhaustion, or loneliness as you raise a newborn, and birth moms have the additional burden of adjusting to postpartum hormones. And that’s without navigating the added uncertainty of a pandemic, which experts say is magnifying the stress of new parenthood.
Conventional wisdom says that seeing friends, getting out, and asking for help are ways to beat the baby blues. Clearly, these activities have all become more complicated in our current pandemic reality. It’s not prudent to have a carousel of friends coming over to cook dinner, babysit, and commiserate. Gone are parent meetup happy hours, or prenatal and postnatal classes teeming with moms who want to compare notes. You may be wary of getting too close to grandparents and loved ones who are particularly vulnerable to COVID-19. Every social interaction means taking on the huge mental load of assessing risks that affect an entire community—plus you’re adding considerations for a fragile new baby into the mix.
Mixed Emotions While Learning To Parent In A Bubble
As spring became summer, several of my friends shared the wonderful news of their pregnancies. That’s when I started reflecting on my own experience as a new mom and acknowledging the unique pandemic challenges. There is no modern play book for pregnancy and parenthood during a global health crisis on this scale. People like me are figuring it out as we go along. Personally, I’m thankful for all I have yet sad for the typical parenting experiences that I’m missing. It’s great to get extra time to bond with my baby—it’s just bittersweet that I can’t share this precious period with most of my loved ones.
So I’ve tried to find new ways to connect to my village. We had a socially distanced meet-and-greet with a pregnant friend. It was a chance to pass along extra diapers and clothes and to socialize in a mindful way. We shared our baby’s first bite of food over a Zoom chat, which was the next best thing to in person. I sent a video to another friend who’d encouraged me to give food a shot. She’d actually been hounding me to send more baby updates and even apologized for being pushy! But I didn’t mind—quite to the contrary, I appreciated knowing that my family was close to her heart if physically far away.
I also gave myself a chance to briefly mourn our 100-day party, the family debut that never was. Then I shifted my energy to brainstorm a new theme, hopefully for 2021. I can’t control the world, but it gives me comfort to be a positive force for my baby and our community. I ultimately know that my village will welcome me with literal open arms when it’s safe to do so again.
