Cracking Under Quarantine

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I’m 20 weeks pregnant with a precious little boy the day that I’m writing this. I should be happy, but I’m not. I’m cracking under the weight of all this. The other morning my husband asked me why I was angry with him, and I said, “Because you’re alive and near me when I want to be alone and sleeping.” So that’s where we’re at in this quarantine.

I’ve not felt good in over a month. It started with a UTI (7 days), then a cold (10 days) that turned into a sinus infection (17 days and counting). I could barely breathe through my nose and sometimes could barely swallow from the suction. I couldn’t sleep, I haven’t fully smelled or tasted things in weeks so I wasn’t eating much and losing weight, my head felt like it would explode from the pressure, and my face and teeth hurt. I lived on Tylenol for a solid week. I started feeling a little better last week and naively decided that surely, I’d feel back to normal in a few more days, so I should do something with all this time at home. I know a bunch of people with toddlers are taking advantage of the forced time around the house to potty train, and I gave in to the pressure to be productive. I felt bad that I hadn’t been able to do anything since I’ve been so sick, and thought I should come out of this thing with something to show for it. BIG mistake. HUGE. 

I was hormonal, exhausted, still battling headaches, AND cleaning up pee and fighting a kid to sit on the potty 20 times a day. By day 4 we’d still made zero progress. It was actually getting worse. We started with the 3-day bootcamp method, but she hated being bare bottomed so we let her wear underwear. The novelty of potty treats (peanut butter M&Ms) and getting to flush the toilet quickly wore off. She started automatically saying “no” every time we’d ask her if she needed to use the potty or tell her that we were going to sit on the potty to try. She ran away. She fought. She whined. We begged. We bartered. We bribed. She’d sit on the potty for two seconds and then get up and say she’s done. We were 1 for 6 that day. 0 for 4 for me. My husband got lucky and caught one. And she peed outside once while playing in the hose. She is also on a nap strike. She instead uses that time to play and sing, lie there and kick the rails of the crib, strip naked and pee or poop, etc. So we gave up. She’s back in diapers, and honestly I’m relieved. We’ll try again another time. Or ya know, she’ll get kicked out of her preschool for still being in diapers at age 4. Whatever. 

Everything I use to cope with the normal stresses of life, everything that makes me a decent wife and mother and human has been stripped away. Alone time obtained from preschool and naps, play dates with friends, visits to the playground or park to let out energy, weekends spent with my parents and in-laws, weekends alone when we drop the kid with her grands, babysitters and dates nights, a list of errands to run to make me feel productive, podcasts or music in the car, events/meetings/hangouts outside my house. Gone. The gym is closed. Even the ability to work out at home with my borrowed dumbbells has been put on hold. I haven’t felt well enough to exercise since a stupidly optimistic FB post several weeks ago when I first got them. It feels like all my hard work the past year of lifting weights is for nothing. My muscle definition is gone. I thought I was getting so close to my ultimate goal of having a random stranger tell me I have too many muscles for a girl. Now it’s going to take me months to get back to where I was – if I even have time before the new baby comes. I can’t even go on a walk in my neighborhood because if I’m outside for longer than a few minutes, the pollen removes what little ability to breathe that I’ve gotten back. My husband tries to take us on car rides to get out of the house, but the movement and bumps in the road make the pressure in my head feel even worse. 

Some days I’m fine. But some days I lose it. It feels like I am barely hanging on to my sanity. I’m angry and weepy and upset for no reason. My patience with my daughter is almost nonexistent. All I want to do is lock myself in my room alone for several days and sleep. And I feel guilty. Horribly, wretchedly guilty. Because I know that we are lucky. My husband and I both still have our jobs (right now) and the ability to do them from home. We have plenty of food and supplies and a beautiful home to keep us safe. I have a husband who loves me and supports me and parents with me (even though I’ve been testing his love daily). I may feel like absolute crap right now, but I know that this sinus infection will eventually pass. We have a healthy toddler and a healthy baby boy practicing Krav Maga in my womb. 

Glasses, no makeup, frizzy hair, bandage over a toaster burn. The kid is wearing her Easter dress and a beanie for some reason. I have no answers.

I know people who are losing jobs. People who have lost a family member to the virus. People who are stuck at home with abusive spouses in the middle of a messy divorce. People who are at home sick waiting on the results of their coronavirus test. People who can’t move to a new home like they planned because the buyer backed out of the contract on their current house. Women who are giving birth with limited or no support and no visitors. People who have it a LOT worse than me. And yet, here I am, crying in the shower in the middle of the day while my toddler watches Frozen for the fiftieth time in a week or curled up on the couch while she calls for me through the monitor while she is supposed to be napping. On the bad days, I don’t know how to handle this. I don’t know how to manage any of the things I feel. I’ve thought about the full bottle of Zoloft in the medicine cabinet more than I care to admit. I ignore phone calls and video chat requests because I can’t pretend to be okay and sometimes I can’t stop crying.  

This is far from over. Life may resume for a lot of younger, healthy people in the next few months, but guess who is still considered higher risk? Pregnant women. Because we just don’t have enough data to tell us what this virus does to women and unborn or newborn children. I try to be positive, but the reality is that I’m going to have a baby in August (or early September if he decides he’s extra comfy in there). I don’t want us to pick back up with life as usual if there is a second wave of this hellish virus. And by all expert accounts, there will be one of some sort. So I’m looking at having to keep myself somewhat confined until the baby comes and then for who knows how long after? Another 3 months? Another 6? Until a vaccine or cure is developed and tested and manufactured and widely distributed? Am I going to be able to have my parents and in-laws come help me when I’m home alone with a newborn and a toddler? 

I don’t know how to end this. Mostly because I’m in a pretty dark place right now. Not quite PPD dark, but recognizably darker than my normal. Maybe by the time you are reading this, things will be better. I’m just holding on to the hope that I won’t be as sick next week and can start getting outside and exercising again. It’s already a little better since my kid has quit freaking peeing everywhere. Sorry mom, turns out you did raise a quitter. *raises hand*

I tell myself to chill and cut myself some slack. No one was prepared for this. I haven’t seen any “Parenting during a Global Pandemic” books. We definitely didn’t cover being stuck at home together 24/7 in premarital counseling either. We’re all just sort of winging it. And it could be worse. I could be trying to home school. *shudders*

For now, I’ll continue listening to worship music on blast and crying in my shower. 

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Sarah Savage
Sarah Savage is originally from Crestview, Florida, but has called the Auburn/Opelika area home for the last 14 years. She graduated from Auburn in 2012 with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and a minor in Human Development and Family Studies. She and her husband, Jonathan, have a six year old daughter and a three year old son. Sarah works part time from home as a Communications Editor for Auburn University, but spends most of her time attempting to keep her kids from climbing—and subsequently falling off—furniture and providing an endless supply of snacks. She enjoys working out, reading, baking, listening to podcasts, and volunteering with local service organizations.