It isn’t supposed to be like this.

That’s what I told Justin when Jack was 6 weeks old and he cried uncontrollably. We learned at his next pediatricians appointment that he was colic.

Thank you to Morgan Williams Photography in Raleigh, NC for safely capturing this season of life for our family.

It isn’t supposed to be like this.

That’s what I told Justin when Jack was 7 weeks old and our state’s governor issued a stay at home order in response to a global pandemic — a safety precaution that cut us off from our family and friends during a time when we needed community most.

It isn’t supposed to be like this.

That’s what I told myself when I went back to work at the end of my 12-week maternity leave, and “going back to work” meant setting up my desktop computer in our living room and nursing my cluster feeding infant before, after, and sometimes during virtual meetings.

It isn’t supposed to be like this.

That’s what I say, almost daily, nearly 6 months into a global pandemic, when I think about how hard it is to work a full-time job from home while giving my baby the level of care he needs and deserves from his mama.

It isn’t supposed to be like this.

That’s what we tell family and friends when we have to turn them away from visiting because there is STILL a global pandemic happening.

It isn’t supposed to be like this.

That’s what I say every time I cry over how isolating my first year of motherhood has been.

It isn’t supposed to be like this.

That’s what I tell myself when my anxiety becomes too much. And I slip down the rabbit hole of worrying about my child’s health and that of my husband or myself. Justin and I function as a team and having one or both of us sick due to COVID-19 scares me. We are alone here, and putting ourselves at risk of becoming ill, leaving no one to care for Jack, is not an option.

When I was pregnant and preparing to bring this little human earth side, I never — not in my wildest dreams — imagined a global pandemic would have us quarantined in our home 7 weeks after birth. And I worried about everything — RSV, flu, you name it.

The fact is, COVID robbed me of the first year of motherhood I thought I would have, and I mourn the experience I imagined and expected as a new mom.

Looking beyond how difficult the days are and seeing all I have been fortunate to experience as a work-from-home mom thanks to COVID-19 is where I choose to be, though.

For today, at least. 

Until I remind myself that there are still no trips to the library for infant story time or family grocery store runs on Sunday afternoons or husband and wife date nights.

I am choosing to accept and embrace the first year of motherhood I have been given. At this point, I am almost 7 months in and I don’t foresee life ever changing back to pre-COVID normal.

Living through a global pandemic has given me more time at home with my son than I ever imagined I would have.

Because of that, I get to witness his growth and changing personality all day, every day.

I get to look up from behind my computer screen and see his beautiful face smiling back at me.

He doesn’t know that the world is falling apart outside of our door. He just knows that his mama is sitting next to him, and to him, that is safe.

I was here the first time he rolled over at 10 weeks.

And in the last 2 weeks, Jack began sitting up unassisted, crawling, and pulling himself up to stand. I got to be here to witness all of it.

I have kissed every boo-boo and head bump.

I have been here for his first 6 months of firsts, and that is something I will be forever thankful for.

In between work and meetings we play with toys on the floor and I give him a million kisses and tell him I love him.

It’s precious time spent with him, that in a non-COVID world, I would not get.

I get to nurse him on demand instead of having to pump and prepare bottles for daycare. Let’s face it, pumping is no fun.

I have been able to learn how to be a mom on my own terms — my own way — without outside influence or unsolicited advice.

I have been forced to slow down. Which, in turn, has allowed me to find joy in simple things I wouldn’t have otherwise. I now look forward to daily visits to our nearby park as a family, exploring new trails each weekend, and planning our next camping excursion (because traveling to places where other people congregate in groups no longer appeals to us, but continuing to sit at home is mentally, emotionally, and physically unhealthy).

It isn’t all blissfully happy days, so don’t get my message wrong. I fight every day to choose to see the beauty in the hand I’ve been dealt instead of wallowing in what is. Some days, wallowing does win because bringing a baby — your first baby — into the world during a global pandemic is hard. And it is isolating. There are days I cry and scream and lose my temper.

As a work-from-home mom, I am working harder than I ever have. In fact, the work never stops. Most mornings it starts at 6 a.m. and continues until I fall asleep at night. And, sometimes, when I wake up at 2 a.m. and can’t fall back to sleep, work happens then.

There is no transition — no buffer — between work life and home life. It’s all rolled into one long and loud day, day after day.

Jack won’t remember his first year, but I will. And I hope I am able to recall all of the perfectly imperfect yet beautiful moments instead of the stress, anxiety, and worry 2020 has produced.

Out of all the ways this year has been an unpredictable mess, though, 2020 is still the year that made me a mama.