A pregnant woman wears a face mask and gloves as she waits in line for groceries in Waltham, Mass.Charles Krupa/The Associated Press
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Many pregnant women have a constant list running through their heads: What colour should the baby’s room be? Which name do we like better? How am I going to get everything done before I go into labour?
When I had my son in 2017, some of my biggest preoccupations involved stroller foldability and whether to use cloth or disposable diapers.
A lot changes in three years. This time, as I prepare to head off on my second maternity leave, the worries that creep into my brain often venture into scary territory: What if I or someone in my family catches COVID-19 and becomes gravely ill? What if I get infected and have to be isolated from my baby? Will my husband be allowed in the delivery room?
As a health reporter at The Globe who has spent the past six months covering the unfolding pandemic and its devastating effects, it can be hard to tune those worries out. It’s a strange position to be in: Professionally, I spend just about every minute of the day thinking about COVID-19. And on a personal level, the disease has also created a new medical reality for this pregnancy that I need to wrap my head around, quickly.
In the early days of the pandemic, when every day began with a frightening new batch of headlines from around the world, it felt daunting to be pregnant. I tried to mentally graph my August due date against the epidemiological models for projected COVID-19 cases in Canada to imagine what hospitals would look like by then. I felt grateful when the lockdowns started because they gave me hope for a flattened curve and a safe, virus-free delivery. I scoured whatever available literature there was on COVID-19 and pregnancy to see whether I faced any heightened risk of complications.
Compared to my experience with my first child, when doctor appointments always involved a long stint in the waiting room, prenatal care was different this time. Instead, my appointments have been mostly done by phone. When I had to go in person, I was unable to bring anyone – even my husband – with me. In the office, everyone wears a mask and red arrows on the floor help direct patients and keep them from lingering in groups.
These measures, and the fact Canada has experienced a lot of success flattening the COVID-19 curve, have me feeling optimistic about the road ahead. Cases are down across the country, hospitals are starting to move through the backlog of patients who have been waiting months for non-COVID-19 treatment and provinces are reopening restaurants, parks and malls.
Navigating my own stress, while I watched the entire world grapple with the scary reality of COVID-19 as a reporter, made me think about resiliency and how some people seem better equipped to cope with life-altering change and turmoil – coronavirus or otherwise. This article from Eilene Zimmerman, part of a series on resiliency from The New York Times, is a great read. Instead of lecturing, it offers tools everyone can use to improve their coping skills during tough time. It’s part of my job covering health to consider the worst-case scenario, but, as the article points out, having a positive, realistic outlook can go a long way.
That outlook is something I strive for every day. Instead of feeling worried, I’m focusing on feeling grateful. My husband and I are privileged to have been able to work from home since March and take care of our three-year-old as a team. We haven’t yet lost anyone to COVID-19 and continue to do everything we can to stay safe. And I have more faith than ever in our health-care system and its ability to take good care of us and our new baby when the time comes.
But I’m also feeling frustrated. Even angry. Because it seems that too many people are treating COVID-19 as a major inconvenience, not a serious pandemic that continues to pose a serious threat. For every person wearing a mask in public and meeting up with friends at a safe distance in a park, it seems there are a dozen more who are living as if this pandemic is over.
When I see that blatant disregard for basic health guidance, I think about the people that have been touched directly by this virus. The thousands of long-term care residents who died of COVID-19, many of them left without basic care or a loved one to hold their hand in their final moments. The health-care workers who have been traumatized by seeing a multitude of patients succumb to this disease and die in isolation from their families. The grocery store clerks, drivers and other workers who contracted COVID-19 on the job and lost their lives as a result. The residents of racialized and low-income areas, who are unfairly bearing the brunt of the disease.
Soon, I’ll be watching the next phase of the pandemic unfold from a distance. It will be a huge mental relief to no longer juggle the demands of work with home life once my maternity leave officially begins. It will also be exhausting and challenging to have a newborn and toddler at home without help for the foreseeable future. It isn’t ideal. But it could also be much, much worse. So I’m ready to embrace the chaos and give thanks each day for our continued health.
What else we’re thinking about:
While viral posts spreading false information on social media have been a problem for years, the pandemic has caused a spike in online misinformation. This can have serious consequences: Many anti-vaccine groups, for instance, are already organizing opposition to a COVID-19 vaccine that doesn’t even exist yet. This article, from Nature, encourages scientists to get involved in the conversation to help stop misinformation, but also contains good advice about how we can all do our part.
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