This thread is genuinely giving me the shivers and my eyes are leaking.
Had my one and only miracle (and I do mean miracle) the day the schools closed in 2020.
I CANNOT explain the whirlwind of emotions. New baby you never thought you'd have, world locking down in what very much seemed at that time the coming apocalypse.
Fuck you if you were partying and carrying on with all your friends. I genuinely believed my baby might die if I did, or that society would collapse and I'd be left alone with him to battle it out in some sort of post apocalyptic wasteland. And before you laugh at that being ridiculous, if you think back to those very early days it really wasn't. It very much seemed like we were teetering on the brink.
Add the new baby hormones and adjusting to becoming a mum and NOBODY COULD VISIT.
My baby wasn't touched by anyone outside me and his dad for a number of months.
There was no hv or midwife. Actually, we had one midwife visit in the first week. She was coughing a bit and the visceral panic I felt to get her out of my house was terrifying. She was there probably four minutes, with a new mask and gloves and clearly terrified herself.
The morning we brought baby home we stripped naked in front of the washing machine and boil washed EVERYTHING that had been inside the hospital and then, I had forgotten this, I took my baby and wiped him all over with some sort of pink anti bac stuff I had just in case he was harbouring covid germs. We didn't know anything at all about covid then or that it was airborne.
All the shops had closed since me going in for induction on the Monday and coming out into a wasteland on the Sunday. You couldn't get supermarket deliveries and there was NO WAY we were standing in a queue to go round Tesco with a newborn or that I was sending baby's dad to Tesco to bring death back to us. YES it felt like that was possible.
When we finally got shopping deliveries I was one of those washing the packets with a bonkers system.
Our appointment to register baby's birth was cancelled (I'd been begging baby's dad not to go to it in person, they stayed open a couple of days longer than the shops i recall and I thought he might catch covid at the appointment) and we couldn't legally register baby for a long time. I made him put an online birth announcement in the paper so I felt that baby's name would be officially recorded somewhere if birth appointments never started again. That seemed like a thing that might happen.
We had friends working in the NHS bringing back the most harrowing stories of the covid wards and several first hand stories from a friend about pregnant and new mums who caught covid in those very early days and died in heart wrenching circumstances. It seemed so real, absolutely nothing like the get a "cold" and crack on with your life it is now (I had covid for the third time last month as it happens).
My baby did not set foot in a shop for almost a year. I still have a phot of him, in the sling, in bloody Home Bargains as it was the first shop I took him in. Me in a mask, him gazing up at the lights because they were so new.
We did eventually go to a couple of baby sensory type groups when they were permitted, but everyone in masks and socially distanced, trying not to let the babies grab the masks off and wondering if singing Wheels on the Bus too loud was spreading covid.
That's before I even go into the trauma of not having any family support. Baby's grandad died a year later having had mostly limited garden visits with his miracle grandchild. The stress of planning an illegal road trip to see him when he was diagnosed terminal, and worrying if we would bring covid to him and kill him off faster. No hotels being legally open and genuinely opening a week planning to buy a camper van so we could sleep on grandad's driveway in it, until we found an airbnb that would illegally let us stay nearby.
Baby's other grandparent not coping with lockdown at all and getting seriously mentally ill, there being no NHS support and now I can't even begin to describe how that's panned out.
Looking back it all seems utterly insane and it was, of course it was. But that crazy half life of my baby's first weeks is something I don't think I'll ever fully get over, as you can tell from this massive rambling which has been quite cathartic.
Me and his dad split up, not because of covid specifically but the stress of being parents in that situation didn't help.
Kid starts school next week. He's healthy, crazily intelligent and the best thing to ever happen to me.
But fuck me, looking back that was hard.