Where to start with all of this? I feel like I’ve been sitting on this post for a long time. Nearly 3 weeks. Three weeks of a roller coaster of anxiety and emotions. Three weeks of testing our mental and emotional strength, and we are just at the beginning.
I filled you in on our IVF Retrieval results, and in that post, I mentioned that Alex started to realize how much of a problem COVID-10 was going to become in America and Chicago. I told you that, as a result, we decided not to transfer a fresh embryo, and instead put our hopes on being able to freeze at least a few. One is all it takes, right? Emmie nods in the affirmative.
What I don’t think that I told you is that during that first week of March, I watched my super cool, calm, and collected husband have real and true anxiety. He realized the danger that we could be putting me (the wife of a physician, aka much higher likelihood of exposure) in during a time when the health system would be taxed to the max and I would need to go to the hospital campus often. That, if worst came to worst, I might have to spend a year apart from him: 9 months pregnant and then the baby’s first 3 months.
I saw a man who is the eternal optimist in all situations considering the worst. I watched his growing frustration that the powers that be just didn’t “get it.” And night after night of being on the phone or FaceTime with our friends and family urging them to get prepared. And this is before any real news or warnings that hit in mid-March had happened.
Let’s just say that seeing that has an impact.
We started getting our acts together, preparing for 2 weeks of food and supplies at any one time and replacing what we used. Then Emmie got sick the night of my retrieval, and we basically went into self-isolation a week earlier than anyone else.
During that time, Alex and I made a plan that I would take Emmie to my parents’ lake house in Georgia. It is isolated; there is a single grocery store 30 minutes away. Emmie would have a house to roam around, outdoors to explore, and we could basically cut ourselves off from the world as needed.
And that is still the plan. Today, I leave with Emmie and the dog to begin the drive from Chicago to Georgia, with a brief stop overnight at a hotel in southern Tennessee. We will stay in Georgia for about a month, maybe longer. The issue is that I need to get my infusion done, and we don’t know if insurance will allow me to have it executed in Georgia.
To say that I am happy about this plan would be a complete lie. I understand logically that the plan makes sense, and that Emmie will be happier during the days when she can have room to move and places to explore.
But emotionally, I am having a really, really tough time with this move.
Alex is my best friend. He is my rock. To not have him there beside me, even if we are just sitting… it feels like part of me is missing. I am a very independent, capable person who can manage just fine on her own, but I am completely codependent on him. Yeah, I will admit it.
Then the news about the lack of protective equipment for first responders and medical staff started coming in. I feel like we are at war, and Alex is going into battle without camouflage and just hoping that his youth and fitness will protect him. Because before long, it will be all-hands-on-deck, and my specialist husband will be helping in a general capacity. This isn’t what he/we signed up for.
So, yeah, there has been a lot of tears over the past few days. I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want him to be alone. I don’t want him to be exposed. I don’t want to leave the proximity to my friends and feel like I am all alone.
(Yes, I have upped my anti-depressant. And still, this is happening.)
I hate this. I hate knowing that other people are also in the same situation. In this case, it is NOT comforting to know that I am not alone, because that means that so many others are scared and apprehensive.
I keep trying to tell myself that this is like spring break, but unlike those a**hats that were partying on the beach, we will be practicing our distancing. That Emmie, Ridley, and I will be going on a girls’ trip.
But I know that is a lie. I know that we are going somewhere just to wait and hope and do my part to stop the spread.
Please, please, please. Stay home. If I am literally leaving my husband thousands of miles away to be with a toddler 24/7, you can do without your playdate or house party or your Starbucks.
Please do YOUR part so that I, and all of those like me, can come home. So that my parents can come home. So that we can all live again.