Giving Birth During COVID-19
A story from a real mama (*names have been changed for privacy).
“The day had come. My baby was ready to enter this world; a world that has completely turned on its axis with the global spread of coronavirus. I remember last week, finalizing my birth plan, excitedly chatting with my girlfriends about the arrival of Ava and how cute she’ll look in all their auntie gifted pieces. I remember the numerous facetime chats with my mom, every one of them lessening the creeping anxiety about going into labor - moms just know what to say somehow. There was just this overarching air of excitement! Then COVID hit.
As my husband and I walked towards the hospital, I remember praying for both of our temperatures to be normal.
Everyone is being checked for fevers before entering the hospital, even doctors and nurses.
Good, I thought. But also, holy crap, please let my temp and his temp be 98 or below.
We made it to my delivery ward, which would soon feel a little more like solitary confinement. Things happened really fast from that point on.
Only your partner is allowed in the delivery room with you - and that’s only if they aren’t running a fever.
Ever since we found out about the pregnancy, I just knew that I wanted my mom in the room with me when my baby girl arrived. My mama, the woman who gave me life, a powerful, soothing, encouraging presence next to me as I embark on the most important journey of my life. This had been taken away from me. The sadness was almost overwhelming.
I pushed through the pain, literally. And then she was here, and everything seemed right in the world...until our new reality set in.
Every time a nurse or doctor entered my room, I felt like I was in the movie “Contagion.” They were covered from head to toe in protective gear (which is now running low due to the influx of hospital patients - if you can donate anything, please do), standing as far away from me as they could unless a physical check was necessary, and reminding me that the world was different, scarier, now. Even though I didn’t show any signs of the virus and was in the maternity ward, I still somehow felt a little responsible for being a reason these incredible people were on the front line - putting their own livelihood at risk just to help me.
Since Ava and I were both healthy, we were discharged after 2 days (which, fyi, I’m finding out is rare now. I guess they’re now sending moms home after 24 hrs). When I was leaving the hospital, that’s when the anxiety really hit. This might sound silly, but here it goes: I love old people. I’ve always had a soft spot for them in my heart. They seem so wise and fragile, and I feel this weird desire to befriend them, even protect them. My husband calls it weird, I call it endearing. Anyways, leaving the hospital with Ava, I saw an old man sitting on a hospital bench wearing a mask and my first thought was “is he infected?” My responsive instinct was to hold my daughter closer to my chest, to keep her from breathing the same air as him. This was now real life - to feel threatened by others. Then I saw a VERY pregnant woman being in a mask; she was hysterical, she said she couldn’t feel her baby moving. This was a scared, stressed out mama who needed attention now, but there was no leeway, no way around the safety measures. She had to wait in line to get her temperature checked, as well as other precautions, in order to enter the hospital - with a potential compromised baby in her belly.
COVID-19 makes no exceptions. At this rate, there won’t be enough hospital beds and resources to go around.
There wasn’t much excitement left in me anymore because I was wrought with fear. Fear for my own health. Fear for my baby, a tiny, helpless human who has entered the world at probably the most dangerous time of my entire existence. I feared how the safer-at-home order is going to keep my friends and family away from me at a time when I need them the most. I feared how my husband and I would get through the first few weeks of Ava’s life without any help. I feared for everyone who would give birth under the same circumstances I did and then go home to the same circumstances. I feared how this microscopic virus would define my entry into motherhood.
I felt alone and scared. I felt confused and angry. I felt a little defeated and extremely tired. And then I looked at Ava and I just knew that I was strong. I was going to continue to be strong for her and for myself. And I knew that this would one day pass, and my family and friends would soon be able to throw the most epic welcome-to-the-world party for my insanely adorable little girl.”