I want to preface by saying this.
The thing that my body is doing is absolutely miraculous. It’s something I wasn’t sure it was capable of. Something that my first trimester it felt less than made for. Something that a lot of women would trade anything for.
I refuse to take it for granted.
Even in the discomfort and worry and anxiety. Even when I can’t sleep for the fifth night in a row because the heartburn is at an all time high and I have to pee every two hours.
Even when the things that used to be so easy are suddenly difficult. Even in a pandemic that is doing its best to strip away joy.
But pregnancy is also isolating. Because it isn’t just my body any more, and every decision I make has to include the risk to the precious fragile life doing somersaults in my belly. All 10 and a half inches of my sweet little one are relying on me to keep it safe. To make good choices + take precautions that keep him or her growing for as long as possible.
Even after the stay at home order lifts, I’ll still be considered high risk. Between asthma + pregnancy, my precautions won’t change once the world opens back up- and I am all for the world opening back up. I just think those of us in the high risk category need to be prepared to continue taking the same precautions.
I still won’t be able to hug my friends, which I’m missing so much more than I realized I would. Or go to church. Or sit in coffee shops for hours. Because before the pandemic even hit I was high risk for preterm labor (a side effect of PCOS.) and now that more and more studies are linking Covid-19 to preterm labor and even in some cases second trimester miscarriages, I have even more to be cautious about.
Maybe it’s just the pandemic, but after spending my first trimester primarily at home on modified bedrest pre-pandemic (most of that alone because my husband was working) I’m doing everything I can to squash the little voice in my head telling me this is just what life is going to be like now. That I’m just going to be isolated from most people from now on.
I realized this morning that it’s been five months since I’ve even seen some of my friends (outside of quick hello’s at church when I wasn’t too sick to go, or scattered conversation in passing.)
Because life keeps moving forward whether you do or not. And as much as I’m moving forward, the last five months have felt very much like staying in place while everyone else’s lives kept spinning. It’s hard to shake the feeling that I’m missing everything.
I am deeply craving that connection. Days spent at coffee shops, sitting across from someone you love, talking about our lives. Planning photoshoots. Exploring downtown. Creating beautiful photos for the people that I love. If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s how much we take for granted.
In a season that was supposed to be so joy filled, I’m having to force myself to look for it.
We talked about what happiness was at one of our last small group zooms, and the deeper into this season I get, the more I realize that it is a discipline. A choice to be happy, even when our circumstances are less than so, and life just isn’t looking like we thought it would.
If that’s where you’re at right now, you’re in good company. It’s okay if some days the best you can do is try.
The really great thing is we have a God who allows us to come to Him completely broken. He’s always welcomed us exactly as we are. Broken. Messy. Happy. Unhappy. Complete and utter works in progress. He loves us just the same.
We just have to lean in.