Pregnancy and pandemic: 3 weeks postpartum

Going into this third week was hard. My incision site stings a bit and my back muscles hurt from holding The Trilogy. I wear her when I can, but it still messes with my back. I cannot wait to see my chiropractor again…whenever that is.

And to top all that off, my county extended its stay home order through May 10th.

I’m losing it, youse. As of today, I have been home for 53 days. The only times I have left have been to go to my doctor and to have a baby. That’s it. I’m going slightly crazy. And trying to navigate all of my feelings, while also fighting through hormonal dips and surges hasn’t been a real picnic.

It’s going to be fine. I know that. Life will return to normal. At some point. Eventually. But what’s driving me nuts right now is attaching dates to things. And expanding orders a couple weeks at a time just as the current set expire. I’d rather the people in charge just be honest. Just tell us you don’t know when the orders will be lifted. That in order to start reopening things all of a certain criteria must be met. Just stop attaching arbitrary timelines to all of this madness.

It’s giving me a false sense of hope and then ripping that away each time. And it’s driving me bonkers. I literally can’t take it anymore. I’d rather they just say we all have to stay home until December 31st and then opening anytime before then is a win. Under promise; over deliver, right?

But 53 days at home has broken me. It’s not that I want to rush out and start shopping or going to restaurants. I’m still going to be cautious. But knowing that I can is a HUGE mental relief. Because right now, I feel trapped with no escape and no end in sight. And that feeling of being trapped is draining. It’s taxing on every level. Physical; mental; emotional. Quarantine fatigue is real and I’m suffering.

I’m also concerned that the longer this stays in effect, the more likely people are going to be to just start ignoring it altogether because they’re exhausted and worn out, too. And that will be a bigger problem in the long run.

But in the midst of all the doom and gloom that I’m feeling, there are positives. One is that the kids are really too young to remember this when they are older. The Sequel will have no memory of spending two months away from his friends and teachers. The Trilogy will never remember how scary her entrance into the world was. and Baby Suddreth, while he asks a lot of questions about what’s going on right now, will likely not remember the madness. If he does have memories from this time, they’ll be memories of spending lots of time with his mom and dad and siblings. It’ll be playing in the sandbox and the bounce house and his swing set. His memories will be bubbles and sidewalk chalk and walks through our neighborhood. As he gets older he might realize that playgrounds aren’t part of his memories. And that every detail of our backyard seems to be ingrained into his memory for some reason. But he won’t realize it’s because he spent every day for months in his yard and at home. He probably won’t even remember why we had to stay home.

At least that’s my hope for him. I hope he just remembers being happy and being together.

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