Another unsolicited year in review post.
Welp, that was a curveball. At this time last year, if you told me we’d all be walking around in masks and baking sourdough, I would’ve said, “Sure, and I’ll be married to Taylor Hanson.”
It’s no doubt been a strange year, but the journalist in me is totally fascinated by it all. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching this virus change all of us in different ways. Myself included. As we move into 2021, here are some of my favourite observations:
The wrath of Zoom meetings
I thought I was awkward at parties, but Zoom meetings have taken things to new levels. I’ve decided not muting your mic is the new “reply all.” Those few seconds where you and a couple others join the meeting before the host and are in smalltalk purgatory? Good lord. When the meeting ends and everyone says goodbye, but you and one other person struggle to close the window? PANIC! I’m constantly glancing over at myself to manage my resting bitch face and make sure my pajama pants are out of frame.
Zoom?
More like Tomb.
Just. Kill. Me.
There will never be a “right time” to have a baby
I’ve always wanted my daughter Sunny to have a sibling. Like many career-focused, city-dwelling lassies, I waited until my 30s to start the whole “having a family” thing. This year Sunny was turning two and I thought it would be a good time to try for her sibling, even as COVID-19 was snowballing into a full-fledged pandemic. Know who didn’t think that would be a good idea? EVERYONE ELSE. I was bombarded with articles urging women to avoid getting pregnant because of all the unknowns related to the virus and its impact on our health system. I tried to do the math of when I thought it would all be over (I was thinking like three weeks!), but here we are, 10 months later in lockdown, and I’m six months pregnant with a little brother.
I could lose my job tomorrow. A meteor could land on my house five minutes from now. An even worse virus could slide in and collapse our economy. I figure, I can’t let the “what ifs” control my decisions when I know certain things will remain no matter what: I will love this baby unconditionally, and I will adapt and pivot to give him the best life possible.
Even if you think it’s the “right time,” you might not get pregnant
I’m the type of person who gets kind of obsessed with goals and does everything in my power to accomplish them. (Hey, who just coughed and said “Browner”?) This summer, my goal was to get pregnant. I followed my cycle apps, I bought an ovulation kit and well…you know….did it a bunch. Then Mother Nature whipped out–what I think–is one of her cruelest weapons: a chemical pregnancy. This is the ultimate mind f**k. It’s a very early miscarriage. Your body goes through all the hormones and feelings you would have if you were pregnant, then…WHAM…you bleed a bunch and find out your chromosomes didn’t make it past the start line after all. It’s the ultimate emotional “PSYCH!”
This happened to me twice in a row.
And it really sucked.
I still wanted to try but didn’t think I could handle it if it happened again. These early miscarriages radically affected how I acted when I finally did get pregnant a few months later. I didn’t tell anyone for a long time. I wouldn’t allow myself to get excited. I told my close friends I was “sort of pregnant”–my verbal safety net in case everything fell apart. At this point, I look like I swallowed a basketball and all of my ultrasounds and tests have gone well, but I still have my guard up. I’m afraid to get too excited about something I could lose.
Learning to be out of control
Nothing makes you realize you can’t control everything like a global pandemic. It was the giant slap in the face I needed to remind me to live in the moment. Or at least try. I spend a lot of time sweating the small stuff. Will the client like the video I made for them? Is Sunny getting enough calcium? Is this shirt too weird? I also have a compulsion to do as much as possible in a day. I’m horrible at just sitting down and relaxing. I feel like I’m wasting my time and not accomplishing enough.
But the last few months have shown me the quiet moments staring out the window or napping with Sunny are more meaningful than endlessly running around the city. I’m starting to embrace and appreciate doing nothing. I’ve come to realize NO ONE is sitting around, thinking about how much I’m accomplishing or not. And I must admit, I’m secretly into having health officials tell me I shouldn’t make plans with anyone. It’s taken so much social pressure off. Another small thing I often sweat.
Farther apart but closer together
One of the greatest things I’ve observed over the last 10 months is how being socially distant has miraculously brought us closer together. In the office I work in, an entire day could go by in silence with everyone’s eyes glued to their computers, but with everyone working from home, we’ve grown closer as a team. Everyone’s checking in on each other, sharing hilarious memes and lighting up the chat rooms with new ideas and helpful insights. I feel like everyone’s been more productive too.
Outside of work, I’ve been checking in with friends more often and the odd socially distant park meetup is so much more meaningful. I’m beyond grateful for the amazing people in my life who are pushing through, showing up, and getting out of bed even when it feels like the entire world is canceled.
I guess love really is all we need
I’m very aware that I’m one of the lucky ones. I haven’t lost my job. I haven’t lost a loved one (except my cat Rose. RIP sweet little Rosie). And I haven’t lost all hope. I’m learning how to slow down and focus on what’s happening instead of what might happen. I’m trying to see the light instead of the dark. Instead of telling my husband that I’m sick of pasta, I’m trying to be grateful he’s passionate about cooking and wants to make a new, healthy meal for our family. I’m getting excited about having another baby. This pandemic has shown me how much I DON’T need. Healthy food, a roof over my head, and quality time with family and friends are my only essentials now. Oh, and high-speed internet.
