Untitled Pandemic Journal

I’ll wish I had taken a moment to enjoy or appreciate. The time I have with Avery... the
slowness... my second pregnancy. I’m really not taking the time to enjoy it because so many
other stressors have been in my way. I feel like I battle depression every single day.
Memories make it harder... like how much do I miss Rosa? SO much. My coworkers made me
feel so safe. They were better adults than me. They always had answers, they were always
reassuring. Yes, I work from home now, which is something I always wanted to do... but
working from home doesn’t mean anything if everyone is home. If we’re not allowed to go
anywhere or be with anyone. I daydream a lot about being back at Rosa and joking around with
my coworkers... feeling loved... socializing. I never felt like calling out! Only when I was truly
exhausted or needed to be home for Avery. I didn’t get Sunday night blues. So, I miss
coworkers. I miss friends.
Anyway.
Until next time.
***
2/2/2021
Well, Charlie Josephine Wells made her debut on 11/16/20 at 8:16 AM weighing 8 pounds, 6
ounces.
She is a ginger and Shaun’s twin. Adorable, sweet, cuddly. She makes our family feel complete.
I had a tough recovery – 5 to 7 weeks of pain, plus an infection where my incision was. Had to
get outpatient surgery on 12/16 to remove the sutures and drain the wound.
Then the holidays, and now 2 weeks from today I go back to work.
Shaun goes back March 1st, so I’ll have 2 weeks to adjust to working from home with 2 kids. I’m
so nervous though. Avery’s been having a tough time listening to me and Shaun, and it’s really
worrying me about our decision to keep her home until kindergarten. The pandemic is still
running wild, and even though there are vaccines now, we still have to wear masks and social
distance. Plus, the vaccine hasn’t been approved for kids under 16 yet, and Avery and Charlie’s
age groups will be the last to be studied, meaning a vaccine for them might not be approved until
2022.
We don’t yet know if those who get vaccinated can still spread the virus, so even though Shaun
is scheduled to get vaccinated at the end of March (2nd dose in April, hopefully), and I’m
scheduled to get vaccinated on 6/22 (2nd dose in July, hopefully), we don’t know if we can still
transmit Covid to our kids or others. There’s so much unknown and so many news headlines that
scare the shit out of me. But last night I was having anxiety worrying if keeping Avery home and
physically away from other kids for this long (and longer) will have a negative impact on her
mental and emotional health. I’m afraid she won’t be able to play well with others – sharing,
cooperating, compromising – she has occasional FaceTime “playdates” with Lilliana, and she
sees Emmie here and there, but otherwise—nothing. Nothing except me, Shaun, and my mom. I
made the mistake of reading an article saying that isolating kids could make them more likely to
experience depression and anxiety later in life, which was already a possibility due to our
family’s (and my) history with both. But I also can’t in good conscience send her to daycare or to
a friend’s house knowing that she could get sick or bring something home to one of us,
especially Charlie, so I keep reminding myself that sending her back isn’t taking her to a place of
normalcy—it’s a place where her teachers and peers (should) all be wearing masks and
distancing.
Maureen said Audrey’s kindergarten teachers said only 3-4 of Audrey’s classmates come to
school (Audrey is remote), and that unfortunately with hybrid, more attention is paid to kids who
are remote, so Maureen’s doing the right thing keeping Audrey home.
I know—or I hope—that keeping Avery home is the best thing for her right now. I also know
working from home with her and Charlie will be a challenge. I only have to do it from March
until June, when Shaun is done school. That’s 3 months. Then Shaun will be home, and then
Avery will be in kindergarten. Hopefully, it’s safe enough to have her there in person.
SCREECH IS DEAD  breaking news.
Mrs. Lusardi died last week. We haven’t told Avery. They were special buddies. She had a heart
attack. Tommy, Wendy’s dad, died yesterday. Drug overdose. So sad. He was so nice. Now
Screech... not on the same level, but still.
Anyway, back to my anxiety.
Life is cruel. Life is scary. But I want to live it without fear. I have to find my way through the
fear. I am scared every day, though. I am scared that my children or parents or sister or brother or
husband or niece or nephew will die. I am scared that I will lose my friends to isolation—that
they will move on without me. I am scared that quarantine will drive Shaun and me apart. I am
scared that I am doing real damage to Avery by keeping her home. I am scared to face life after
quarantine. I am scared of all the things I forgot to be afraid of while I was busy being afraid of
Covid.
***
4/6/21
I wish I could cry right now. It would make me feel so much better. I approached Shaun with an
iota of optimism this morning, saying that as soon as my dad hits the two-week mark after his
second dose of the vaccine, I’m driving Charlie over to his house for him to hold her. Shaun
immediately responds with some gloom regarding an article he just read about how kids
shouldn’t necessarily return to school right now because the new variants are hitting kids harder
than other versions of the virus.
I was so freaking annoyed. The moment I show hope, he shows me something sad and
devastating. How we’re taking a step backwards or can’t inch forward. I have done everything in
my power to protect my kids. What was his point? That my dad can’t be around Charlie once
he’s vaccinated because of the variants? We already had the pediatrician tell us that if my dad is
vaccinated, wears a mask, and is outside, it’s okay for him to hold Charlie. Why is Shaun trying
to ruin that for me? For my dad?
I’m so fucking sick of this pandemic. And I know how ungrateful I sound - so many have lost so
much more than I have. I’ve lost time and freedom. People have lost their lives. They’ve lost
their loved ones. So complaining about not getting to see my dad hold Charlie for a little while
longer--maybe even a year, whenever a vaccine for her and Avery’s age group is available--
seems ridiculous. I don’t mean to be ridiculous. But goddammit - it’s been over a year. A YEAR.
It’s so hard to continue down this never-ending path. I miss so many things, both big and small--
strolling lazily down the aisle at Target. Ordering a drink at a bar with a friend. Taking Avery to
dance school. I miss being alone for more than 30 minutes. I miss seeing my kids around family
and friends.
I’m tired of being scared all the time. I’m tired of social distancing with friends, and even that’s
not good enough for Shaun, my mom, and Kirsten. So much judgement.
I judge others, too. I certainly judge the mask burners, the people who go out and party or travel
or dine out or gather in large groups. The people who refer to the pandemic in the past tense. I’m
judging them all... and to be honest? I’m starting to dislike people.
I have friends who I look at differently now that I see either a completely stupid side to them, or
a completely selfish side. People who “can’t sit inside all the time.” Do they think we enjoy
sitting inside? Do they think we love making all these sacrifices? Seeing our kids suffer? I’m
appalled by the lack of selflessness. I’m not sitting inside for me -- especially not right now. I’ve
been completely vaccinated since 3/17 - I’m not the risk. It’s my kids, and I will do anything to
protect them. Even miss out on the things I love.                                                                                       ***
4/12/21
Today is Nick’s birthday. He’s 17 and I’m sure out and about with his friends. I’m convinced he
won’t quarantine before our beach vacation in July. And if my dad and Nick can’t reel it in for
two weeks leading up to this vacation, then I guess they’re going without us, because I’m not
exposing my children to Covid. It sucks so badly, because hopefully by then all the adults,
including Nick, will have been vaccinated. I think Billy is the only one at this point who has no
scheduled appointment. And I understand Dad’s thinking that it will be okay to be around the
babies once he’s fully vaccinated, but that’s not the case. It’s simply wishful thinking. Because if
you look at the studies, and the conclusions medical experts are coming to, you’ll know that this
virus can still be spread amongst the vaccinated to the unvaccinated. Covid doesn’t care about
wishful thinking or the timelines we’ve created in our heads for when this hell should be over.
But good God do we need a vacation. And quality time with my dad. He barely knows Charlie.
And I desperately need a change of scenery.
I went for a nice (social distanced) walk with Stef on Friday. Charlie and I got to meet Jensen
from afar. It’s so funny how I was so afraid of losing my friends because I was the only one
pregnant at the beginning of the pandemic – I thought everyone was done having babies – and
then EVERYONE got pregnant. Stef, Dana, Sheila, Melissa, Alicia, Chelsey. I’m missing
someone... oh, Bobbie. I’m in good company with the new babies. Can’t wait to hug and
squeeze all these babies and their mamas.
Anyway.
I could really go for a spa day. When that day will come... who knows.
***
4/13/21
Well, the Johnson & Johnson vaccine is now on hold since it apparently gives people dangerous
blood clots. It feels like every time we take a step forward, we take two back. It’s gonna be one
of those days...
***
5/3/21
I feel a little hope in the air. Probably just jinxed myself. But I was able to see Jenn on Saturday,
social distanced-ish (at a picnic table, the only available seating) outside at Flying Fish Brewery.
We had over a year of stuff to share, and it seemed like, at times, we were stuck in time. She
thought Avery was turning 4, not 5, and that’s because she last saw Avery when she was 3, and
then time sort of froze for everyone. When she was leaving, she stopped, turned around, and said
“This was nice. Really nice,” and then she texted me later and said “I really really missed you. I
didn’t know how much until I saw you,” and I was not only touched, but relieved that someone
missed me during this last year – like time hadn’t wiped away our friendship, or our ability to be
friends, or my ability to socialize. I was super awkward at times, though. I struggle to find things
to talk about, even though I was pregnant and had a baby in the past year, which Jenn pointed out
was crazy that I went through a whole pregnancy since the last time I saw her. She so badly
wants to see/hold Charlie, but I’m just not there yet with my kids. Then Shaun and I decided
we’re going to try and send Avery to ESF for a week in the beginning of August to reacquaint
her with other kids and being away from us for a “school” day, and the thought of that is more
exciting to me than scary. It’s mostly outside, I know from working there that they take safety
very seriously, and Brittany and Mike are camp directors now and assured me that they all take
Covid and the recommended precautions very seriously. If Eden does it like Dana says she will,
then that’s even better of an incentive to get Avery to go. My mom talked about getting a
massage in June. Things are slowly—and I mean slowly—changing for the better. Yet my
anxiety is waiting for the other shoe to drop. I have to breathe and accept that good things
happen, too.
***
June 1, 2021
My stomach hurts today. Knots. I had a lot of anxiety last night about the world opening back up.
Sometimes I get excited by it, by the image of sitting at a table in a restaurant with my friends, or
inside my dad’s house while he holds Charlie, and then I get anxious. I think, “What if I let my
guard down, and then...”
And then my kids get sick. They die. Because I wanted to drink a martini in person with my
friends. Because I didn’t want to miss out on what everyone else was doing: reuniting. Living in
less fear. Moving on. Building new memories together.
Like Dana has said, we’ve come too far to give up now. We can’t let ourselves get sloppy. And
yet I know if I’m vaccinated, it should be okay to be maskless and close to another vaccinated
person. I know that there is such a small chance I could bring anything home to my children.
And yet...
What if I or my family members fall into the small percent who suffer a breakthrough case, or
transmission? What if...
What if. What if.
The story of my life. The worry of my life. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop, as my
therapist would say. My brain’s just programmed that way.
It’s like doing complex math. If a vaccinated person and nonvaccinated person hang out, what’s
the likelihood that the vaccinated person could get sick? Or transmit disease?
Too much thinking. No thanks.
***
June 11, 2021
So I went to lunch with Gina last week—sat outside—and ohhhhh my God, what a thrill. Like
seriously, no sarcasm – I was elated. I kept interrupting her to say how grateful I was to be there.
It felt like such an honor and blessing. All to have a martini, up-close and personal with my
friend. We even hugged. HUGGED! I didn’t even feel scared—just incredibly lucky to be alive
and able to feel like we’re almost on the other side of this nightmare.
And then I think about all the people who didn’t come out on the other side, or who lost people
to the virus, and I feel so sad for them. The enormity of these past two years hits me so hard
sometimes. We experienced a historical nightmare that our children, grandchildren, great-
grandchildren will learn about in school. It’s the first time—hopefully the only time?—that we as
a WORLD were in unison—in fear, paralysis, experience, anxiety—when all of humanity spoke
one language. Covid touched everyone—everyone. Spared no one. What I mean by that is we all
knew someone who got it, or we got it, or lost someone to it, or we were tested for it, or
vaccinated, or wore a mask, distanced, cried, isolated, rebelled—we all knew what each other
meant when we said “Covid” or “the virus” or “distancing” or “masking.”
When 9/11 happened, the tragedy united the country. This virus is so beyond that. It united
humanity. It divided humanity. But it was a singular experience shared by all in one way or
another.
Wow. Just wow.
***
July 7, 2021
Yesterday was the 5-year anniversary of my due date with Avery. She wasn’t born until six days
later. Five years ago today, I was (im)patiently waiting for her arrival, eating ice cream, avoiding
the outdoors, rolling my eyes at every “did you have the baby yet?” text from a friend or loved
one, excited and terrified to both meet my child (boy or girl?! We didn’t know) and go into labor.
At any moment, the cramping could start, and I didn’t know how bad it would get or when it
would start.
Fast forward five years, and here I am, sitting in my bed, working while Avery is down the shore
with my mother while Charlie, our newest bubbaboo, sits downstairs moaning with swollen
gums and no teeth. And instead of all-consuming thoughts about when Baby will get here and
what it will be like, I’m almost paralyzed in fear about this Delta variant and what it could mean
for both my unvaccinated children (and niece and nephew), and those of us who are vaccinated
and may need boosters.
I’m scared. It feels like I’m scared all of the time. And I’m so tired of being scared. I’m tired of
being tired. Exhaustion is... exhausting.
Society opened too quickly. Literally one day there were indoor mask mandates for everyone,
including vaccinated folks, and then the government announced that masking was basically over
for vaccinated people, that we could essentially toss out them dang-tootin’ masks.
What?!
It was so sudden, just like the arrival of this virus. Jarring. Confusing. How did we go from A to
Z?
And just as I started to feel comfortable meeting my vaccinated friends (even some unvaccinated
ones) in person, hugging them, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with them; just as I started to feel
okay sitting inside a restaurant and eating (once – when outdoors was an hour wait and I was
meeting someone who was on a time crunch and it was 90-something degrees outside); just as
the hope we were feeling started to morph into reality; Delta came along and took a shit on
everything.
Now Israel is saying that Pfizer – the vaccine Mom, Shaun, Dad, and I received – is only 64%
effective at preventing symptomatic infection. Wow. A huge difference from the 94% protection
we were initially told it provided.
It’s like a punch in the stomach. When will we actually be safe? The news sent me into a tailspin
of anxiety. I started Google-ing everything about the virus, variant, and vaccines. I canceled
plans to meet Gina inside at a sushi restaurant. I second-guessed our decision to send Avery to
day camp for a week in August. I emailed Charlie’s new daycare director and said she will be
starting in September, but if cases get worse, we’ll hold her spot and bring her in at a later date.
Ugh. Am I right?
***
7/8/2021
Omg, I accidentally wrote 2020, ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!!
Anyway.
I watched last night’s episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills today, and there was a
preview clip for next week where Kyle is crying about lockdown and how hard it is to be a
parent and watch your kids adjust to the Covid life. I hear ya, sista. It sucks. But oddly, I find it
so comforting that everyone—and I mean everyone—can relate to these miseries.
Avery did her second day of “Kindergarten Readiness Class” today and did so well. Her teacher
is requesting her for kindergarten in the fall. I’m a proud mama!
***
7/27/21
The CDC is now recommending everyone wear masks indoors in high-Covid areas, whether
you’re vaccinated or not. The frustration and fear I feel is choking me. The progression of this
Delta variant reminds me of the start of the pandemic... the “Oh, it’s not a big deal for
vaccinated folks,” which quickly morphed to “well, there are SOME breakthrough cases, but
most are asymptomatic or mild,” to “yeah, vaccinated people are getting it and showing
symptoms. Some get sick. Like moderate,” and good God, who knows what’s coming next. And
who knows what the next variant will be.
At Avery’s 5-year checkup yesterday, her doctor said he isn’t too worried about the variant and
the kids. He said she’s okay to go to day camp and to just take the usual precautions. When did
any of this become the “usual”? It’s so fucking maddening that people won’t take advantage of
these miracle vaccines and get the damn shots so we can save ourselves and each other and get to
the end of this thing. I realize that Covid will probably always be around. But I think it’s possible
to become like the flu – something we get vaccinated for yearly, and we hope we don’t get, but
for most of us, it’s beatable. And God, I hope it’s beatable, especially for my family,
ESPECIALLY my kids.
I realized when I had Avery that worrying about your kids is a lifelong thing that comes with the
role of being a parent. But to not be able to safely take your kids out into the world – what is
this? Is this living? It doesn’t feel like it. Not the way life should be lived. And I’m so mad at
some of my friends for not getting vaccinated and for bragging about it. What fucking idiots. Do
it for your children! Donald Trump does not give a fuck whether you live or die.
I’m in that mode of anxiety where I need to ask people if we’re going to be alright and I need a
crystal ball to see into the future and know my kids and loved ones are there and safe and
healthy. I need reassurance. I need something I can never get—not just for Covid—but in
general. Not ever. That’s a truth I often struggle with when I’m feeling anxious.
Let’s get these kids and babies vaccinated. Let’s get an added layer of protection.
But for now, I hesitate on making any big plans for the future, because it seems like we have to
keep canceling them or pushing them back. Maybe focusing on life day-by-day is how to survive
the anxiety right now. That, and setting boundaries for myself and my girls, no matter how
uncomfortable it makes me or who it pisses off.
There is always hope for good news tomorrow.
***
8/25/21
Well, my dad had to get a Covid test yesterday because he has a nasty cough and sounds totally
congested. And by had to, I mean I threatened him until he agreed to get one. It was negative, but
this is the state of the pandemic right now. Even vaccinated people are getting sick. Thanks,
Delta variant.
I had a good friend ask me to go to dinner tomorrow night with her and one of our unvaccinated
friends. It was a hard no for me. I told her I’m not comfortable sitting at a table with anyone who
isn’t vaccinated. She then offered three restaurants that have outdoor seating, but seating all
together. I had to gently explain to her that unless I’m six feet from our friend, it ain’t happening.
I know some people get annoyed by my standards or boundaries. Oh well. Your annoyance isn’t
going to convince me to put my kids at risk. I’d rather you be annoyed with me than to risk my
kids’ health.
It’s the end of the summer and Covid is almost as bad as when the lockdown began. People need
to do the right thing and get vaccinated. End of story. So sick of this.
***
12/2/21
Hello, Omicron.
You fucking bastard. You unwelcomed, uninvited asshat. You’re the Cousin Eddie of this
holiday season.
Right now Charlie is playing on the floor with her ice cream cart. She has an old iPod in her
mouth and keeps clapping while staring at me, which means “You clap too, Mama,” and I do,
because how amazing is it that she can hold this iPod in her mouth without her hands?
More importantly: how amazing it is that she’s safe? Safe, silly, and sassy, just like her sister. I
thank God every night that they and the rest of my family are healthy and safe through this mess
that is the pandemic.
I love this time with Charlie, and I’m so grateful that I’m able to work from home with her and
keep her out of daycare until she’s (hopefully!) vaccinated one day (soon, hopefully!), but it’s so
hard trying to get any work done and mom it. I feel like I’m not paying enough attention to her—
is this iPod her only friend—and then I feel bad for not focusing on work. Will she remember
her childhood as time spent with Mom, whose head was always behind a computer screen? Will
she remember me sneaking away to my room to take a nap with her, my oversleeping and my
frantic hand grasping for my cell phone under the covers and a blue light illuminating the dark
room? I hope she remembers more than that—the lunch breaks we take together, how I dance in
the kitchen while she shimmies in her highchair.
This new variant is making everyone nervous, but we are so lucky to have Avery half-
vaccinated. Her second shot is next week, and two weeks later, she will be fully vaccinated. I
pray the vaccine holds up against all variants, and that the littlest Littles can be vaccinated sooner
than later.
I went to the mall with my mom yesterday—a last-minute errand that turned into 2 hours of
Christmas shopping. She hasn’t been to the mall in almost two years.
I missed shopping in-person so much, although I’m so thankful we had online shopping to ensure
the kids had a Christmas last year, even though it was an isolated one. But it’s not the same as
walking through a store, Christmas music playing, figuring out what presents to buy. When you
shop online, you have to know what you’re looking for. At the mall, you can browse and be
inspired. I also missed this Christmas tradition--just my mom and me shopping together, getting
excited about gifts we have found for others or each other. “Forget this ever happened,” one of
us will say as we walk to the register to buy a gift for the other person.
She started to cry when we first walked in. She said she wishes she could bring Emmie, who is 3
and has never been in a mall before. I feel the same about Charlie. There’s so much she has yet
to experience that was totally normal for Avery by Charlie’s age – sitting in a shopping cart
while I grocery shop. Waddling around Target. Going to friends’ houses for playdates or
cuddles. Charlie knows none of that. The world is so closed off to her.
But not forever. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
It’s been a year and a half since the pandemic started, and I feel a little more hopeful than I did
back then. There’s been a lot of gratitude, and there’s a lot of praying still to do. Yet darkness
still creeps in. The world sometimes feels like an uglier place than when this all started. I don’t
recognize this America or humanity in general. What has happened to our humane side? So
much hate, idiocy, ignorance, and selfishness. This pandemic and current politics have revealed
people’s true selves.
But things, at least for now, are improving. And as much as my anxiety wants to tell me that one
step forward always equals two steps back, I’m choosing to believe we’re crawling slowly
towards a better, pandemic-less tomorrow