It’s day five of my self-imposed isolation. The world outside seems like a picturesque dream viewed through the snot-streaked windows of my home. I find myself staring at my phone, silently pleading for it to ring, beep, or buzz. Is there anyone out there who remembers me during this dreary period? I worry I’ve forgotten how to engage in a simple conversation. Will my friends recognize me at preschool when I finally emerge? I can’t even picture the face of my beloved barista. I drift through my house, trapped in a monotonous loop of chores: laundry, dishes, diapers, dinner. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
In my mind, I’m reliving the delightful playdates I had planned. I picture myself strolling the aisles of Target with my baby while my older child is at preschool. I can almost hear the laughter of my mom friends as we sip coffee at our favorite cafe or gather for lunch. I used to navigate the highways just to prolong the boys’ naps a few precious minutes longer. It was a blissful existence I took for granted before flu season hit.
But all it took was one cough from a classmate, a single handshake, or a kiss from a doting grandparent to derail my social life. I’ve traded my plans for a life of “yes, let’s take the kids to the pet store to gawk at fish and gerbils while we enjoy our lattes” for “I have nothing to wear because every outfit is now a canvas for bodily fluids.” But I reassure my little one. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I know throwing up is scary. Everything will be alright, my dear, sick child. I actually needed the laundry room anyway.”
The baby’s cries and coughs echo from the next room, reminding me that recovery is still a distant prospect. Today, my mission is to find serenity amidst the endless loops of animated tank engines and moralistic Muppets. Surrender is the theme of my confinement. I won’t wage any battles today; lofty aspirations like showering and having breakfast will have to wait. I’ll let the hours unfold as they will.
Someday, I will rise up and demand lunch options beyond chicken nuggets. I will pave new educational avenues and turn off the claymation farm animals. But today is not that day. Today, I kneel in hope for healing, long nap-times, and that my husband surprises me with a little treat just for me.
When Monday morning arrives, I will re-enter society. I’ll embrace the fresh air with a grin and, perhaps, a new stash of sidewalk chalk. My phone will be in hand as I message everyone I know to join me in welcoming the day—until the next sneeze, cough, or until my husband catches the flu himself.
For more thoughts on navigating the challenges of parenthood, check out this informative post on intracervicalinsemination.org. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, I recommend checking out Make a Mom for their reputable syringe kits. Additionally, ASRM is an excellent resource for all things related to pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, we all face the trials of flu season, but amidst the chaos, there are moments of hope and laughter to be cherished.
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