Today marks the one year anniversary that this pandemic began for me. March 17, 2020 was my last "normal" day. My last day working in person for months--my work closed and lockdowns were announced that night. My last day visiting family for months--I picked up my son after work and didn't know when it would be safe to see my parents again. It was St. Patrick's Day then too, and my baby wore a green shirt that said "Mom's Lucky Charm." Boy was that ever true, as he's the biggest reason we were able to make it through this pandemic safe and sane. It's been a full year of anxiety and trauma for us all.
And now...we begin the healing process.
In some ways I was dreading today. It felt like the coming anniversary of the death of a loved one. It was the day the trauma started. A day we don't want to remember and also cannot ever forget. It's taken over a year to get close to a hope of an ending when we previously thought it might end in a few weeks. By April. By summer. And it didn't. And we lived day to day not knowing if an end was in sight.
We lost people. Over 500,000 lives. Friends. Colleagues. Our family almost lost a loved one. Her life may never be quite the same. And so it is not strange that we might mourn.
But it's also a day that shows our perseverance. How far we've come. How resilient we are. We lasted a year, adapting to online work and a masked, distant world.
And things are getting better. Case numbers and hospitalizations continue to go down. The number of vaccines distributed continues to go up. Our governor still has the state on a road to recovery plan that will safely restart our economy. We've been moving through each tier of people allowed to get the vaccine in our state.
After I got both doses of my vaccine, so did my husband. Then his parents. Then his aunt and sister. This month, my younger brother and my parents were able to get the vaccine. And just today, my older brother got his first dose. Just about everyone in our family bubble is at least partially protected, and on the road to full protection. Which means more protection for our son who's too young for the vaccine just yet. Which means more peace of mind that our loved ones will be safe in this world and we're one small step closer to getting back to a safer world.
The CDC even released new guidelines for vaccinated individuals. We can gather with fully vaccinated people even unmasked. And while the idea of interacting with people outside my family without a mask will take some getting used to, I'm just so excited that we can "gather" again! I can feel even safer when I visit my family. I'm a homebody, but I miss seeing friends! My husband and I celebrated with a pizza night, inviting two friends over who had been fully vaccinated and we just chatted together in our living room.
Life is not the same as before yet. Will it ever be? We don't quite know. Humans have survived pandemics before, and our numbers are trending in the right direction, so there is hope. For now, I know I'm not yet comfortable seeing a movie in public, as much as I want to. I'm not ready to take my son to an indoor gym and watch him climb and play and interact with kids his own age. I really want to give him those experiences, and hopefully with vaccinated children or transparent cleaning protocols this will be possible in the near future. This was the year we were going to go to Disneyland, and I'm not yet ready for that either. But maybe next year. For this year, perhaps a summer vacation--our first family vacation--to meet my husband's new baby cousin in San Diego and bring our son to the beach.
For now, I'll take Friday pizza nights with vaccinated friends and Sunday babysitting with family and an occasional outdoor restaurant and picking up coffee indoors without fear. I'll take going back to work in person full-time this fall, even though I'll miss my remote days, if it means I can be located 15 minutes away from my son instead of 40 minutes away. There's a lot of good happening every day and more good on the horizon. So it looks like I didn't need to dread today after all. The whole day felt pretty normal. And normal in the middle of a pandemic is wonderful.
The whole day permeated with a feeling of hope.
So I'll continue to hope that I won't have to report on this blog again, designed to document life in a pandemic. I hope that cases don't suddenly spike. That the vaccines work long term. That the virus mutations get under control. That we reach herd immunity.
I hope for continued health and happiness and positive change.
We have had positive moments in this roller coaster year. Despite the illness of family and the constant fear and isolation, my family member left the hospital alive, which is most important of all. But we also had special milestones. Major birthdays and anniversaries that we did get to spend with family. My little brother got engaged! I got to be home with my son every day, which was pure joy and something I'd always wanted--and didn't have to give up a career I loved to do it. We were blessed to be able to keep our jobs and be near our loved ones. I will never take that for granted.
But I am ready to close this chapter and begin a new one.
In the new normal, maybe we'll be similar to the old normal. Or maybe we'll still wear masks a lot during flu season. Maybe our generation will never completely feel comfortable at a large convention. Or maybe we'll use what we learned about telecommuting to offers more flexible work and childcare options. I know we'll continue to use digital technology to keep connected.
I don't plan to have a huge party for my son's second birthday in June. But I plan to celebrate with family, which is bigger than we had last year. I don't plan to go to a concert, but I do want to take that trip to San Diego. There will be baby steps on the way to new normal, but if I can just not live in fear every single day, that's good enough for me for now. I can't do everything I used to do in the old normal anyway--I gave up a lot of that when I decided to have a child.
And speaking of children...maybe we can finally start to plan another addition to our family.
Maybe we can think about the future again instead of staying stuck in the monotonous void that was 2020.
Maybe we can be bold, and strong, and share and hug again.
That's all I hope for.
We made it through one year. Thank you for making it through one year with me. I plan to be more in person now as time goes by, but I still remain faithfully, remotely yours,
--Stephanie
