One day I’m going to want to remember this time. I keep having to remind myself of that, though some days I can’t believe this weird apocalyptic shit that happens in the news on the regular. As fucked up as it was, 2020 was the year I gave birth to my beautiful rainbow baby Mila, and for that I will always remain eternally grateful. I don’t often reflect on that time and those early days which were monumental and life-changing in every way imaginable. I’m not sure there’s a deeper meaning here aside from the fact that time in a Covid world is slipping through my fingers quickly and life hasn’t let up since March of last year when it all shut down.
The first few days and weeks and months of Mila will forever remain a blur—a whirlwind of sleepless nights, the late-night glow of the tv, coffee, adrenaline, diaper changes, and worrying about whether baby is breathing and warm enough. I regret that I didn’t pause more to breathe in the smell of her newness in April, that I didn’t stop to admire her delicate fingers in May, and boop her cute button nose that is definitely not from me in June, when her features slowly changed forever.
But you can’t and that’s the whole point, isn’t it? The bright hues and colors of a sunset, the nighttime breezes that make our hair dance, the deep belly laughs you can only share with the best company… the impermanence of all of these moments is what adds to their allure. I think often about how we never appreciated the things we were taking for granted pre-pandemic because they were always there, right in front of us—the restaurants and bars and loud gatherings and holidays and concerts.
And then they were gone like they never existed and we were left to collectively mourn their memories.
What will become of us? Of these strange moments in time? WHEN WILL IT ALL BE NORMAL AGAIN? Sometimes my anxiety-filled brain can’t handle these unknowns.
Slowly life shifts again. And I teeter on the edge of careless and free while tethered to a darker reality. That “normal” might not be within reach for a while. Maybe “normal” will never be. Or maybe “normal” is what we make of it. Maybe our definition of “normal” will change like we all have over the past year.
And maybe that’s all we can hope for.