If you had asked me in December 2019 what my plans were for 2020, you would have gotten a very simple and straightforward answer. My husband and I were expecting our first child, we were going to have a small baby shower, a nice simple christening, and I would be back out to work after maternity leave, and baby would be starting at nursery by four months at the latest.
We had it all planned, down to touring a nursery near to my workplace and collecting all the relevant forms.
January 2020 opened with promise. Everyone was excited and my best friend was in baby mode. The talk of a virus in China was a curiosity. I had never heard of Wuhan and I likened the outbreak to sars and mers and figured like usual, it would be limited to China and be something tucked away in a health column in the newspaper. I couldn’t have guessed it would have changed so much by the time Baby Bean arrived at the end of March.
By mid-March, there was confirmation that the virus from an obscure corner of China had reached Barbados and we found ourselves calling and messaging around to cancel the baby shower. Shortly after that, our obstetrician informed us of the updated QEH visitation policy and that Daddy wouldn’t be able to stay overnight as planned. Suddenly, the support systems I had planned on for those first days were no longer available.
The day before Bean’s delivery, Prime Minister Mia Motley announced we were entering stage 3 of our COVID-19 national preparedness plan and would soon be starting a national curfew.
Thankfully, there was no confirmed community spread and Baby Bean arrived safely. The joy and relief of having a healthy baby was paired with the isolation of limited visiting hours and the anxiety of potential exposure to COVID-19. By discharge time, Baby Bean had only been seen by relatives on video call and we were sent home with strict instructions not to have visitors from outside of our household for his first month of life. A stark contrast to the crowded bedside we had seen just months earlier with the birth of his older cousin.
It’s amazing how you have this vision of what your life would look like at certain points, but the truth is, anything can happen. Just months before, we were celebrating Christmas together at our annual family picnic with no idea what would lie ahead. A new world with masks in public, curfews, and baby registration times limited by a surname letter system. It was completely uncharted territory.
I remember the joy in my parents’ eyes when, long after we got home, they finally got to meet their grandson in person. They were smiling behind their face masks and waving to us from a distance. A scene I would have never imagined as a first meeting. Despite living only 15 minutes away it was almost a month later when they finally held him. By the time we could have the christening, Bean’s chubby baby belly stuck out of the bottom of his shirt and his legs were almost too fat for the pants. We had the ceremony outdoors and had limited attendees with some attending via video call.
Work is no longer where or what it used to be, and as for nursery, month four is long gone and the nursery forms are tucked away collecting dust.
This year as we approach Bean’s first birthday, I am thankful. Thankful for God getting us through the last year even though it was completely different from what we expected. I don’t know what more 2021 has in store, but I am hopeful.
This article appears in the February 22 edition of COVID Weekly. Read the full publication here.
