My covid kid is 5 months old and I am now on sertraline due to the fucking anxiety and stress of it all. Our baby was planned, years of trying. I had fantasised for years about taking my baby to the library and churches to attend baby groups, making mum friends, being part of that "mum club". I wanted it desperately.
Obviously, that didn't bloody happen. I would be sat in my front room holding my newborn, crying for my mum who I could only see at the end of the driveway.
Baby groups are starting up again in my area, but the waiting lists ate huge and you have to prepay now. I'm a bit iffy about doing that as if we go into a local lockdown we might not get our money back.
My baby, however, is the absolute light at the end of this tunnel. I call her my rainbow baby as 3 weeks before I gave birth, we lost my 33 year old cousin to covid (brought up as my sister, extremely close). I know rainbow babies are a baby after a lost sibling, but I'm extending that definition to include her. She really is my rainbow through this dark storm.
When people say we haven't missed out, being dramatic or imply we are selfish when we're angry/anxious/upset about having a baby in this pandemic, I invite you to walk a mile in our shoes. Imagine being frightened to take your baby into a newsagents to buy a bottle of milk. Or ring around various health practitioners over and over just to get your baby weighed properly. Delayed jabs. Labouring alone, having swabs taken up your nose and down your throat between contractions. I could go on and on and on.
I am grateful for my beautiful baby and the situation has eased for us, thank goodness. Our parents and even some friends and family have held her. I will forever be thankful for that. But I mean this with kindness- please do not judge us lockdown mum's and dads. It's been fucking hard and we've earned a rant.