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I’m about to share a moment that stripped me of my last bit of dignity. But first, let me set the stage. This past year has been incredibly challenging. In many ways, we’ve been fortunate—no one in my family contracted COVID, both my partner and I held stable jobs, and our children, aged three and five, were safe, especially with daycare reopening during the pandemic. Yet, we’re utterly exhausted, collapsing into bed each night like a herd of elephants. For our kids, the year has been a strange mix of confusion as they adjusted to seeing us working from home and navigating virtual daycare (which is no easy feat when trying to convince a three-year-old to stay focused on a screen with all her toys nearby!).
One day, during a car ride to get donuts, our then-four-year-old, Emma, sighed and said, “Remember when we used to go places?” It hit home just how much we had all been missing out on.
In our attempt to cope, we became a bit desperate—tea parties, increased screen time, takeout dinners, and even “Science Sundays” filled our weekends. We tried everything from shaving cream baths to binging every Disney movie we could find (Lion King 1.75? Absolutely!). As a child psychologist, I empathized deeply with my clients, frequently repeating, “This is SO HARD” while trying to maintain my composure.
For Emma, the social aspect of the past year has been particularly tough. Last weekend, one of her daycare friends kindly invited the class for an outdoor playdate. Emma was over the moon—bouncing in her seat, barely hearing the Story Pirates podcast. We packed sunscreen, a bathing suit, a water bottle, and a towel, feeling prepared. What I didn’t anticipate was Emma’s reaction upon arrival.
While I was thrilled to see familiar faces and engage with other parents, Emma seemed different. Usually the life of the party, she suddenly looked nervous, clutching my hand tightly. “Would you like me to help you say hi?” I offered, but she hesitated. Eventually, she cautiously approached her friends, who were busy enjoying slip-n-slide fun and cupcakes, and asked in a voice so small I could hardly hear, “Do you want to play with me?” Unsurprisingly, the answer was no—everyone was too wrapped up in their activities. My heart ached for her.
Feeling a mix of desperation and determination, I glanced at the other parents, all happily chatting away while their kids played. I took a deep breath, set my phone aside, and kicked off my flip flops. “What are you doing?” Emma asked, eyeing me suspiciously. “I’m doing this!” I proclaimed and took off running.
What followed was pure joy. I dashed through the sprinkler, water soaking me instantly—glasses foggy, dress swirling, hair a mess. But the cool water felt incredible. Soon, Emma joined me, and together we ran, laughed, and danced in the spray. Other kids soon followed, creating a joyful group of carefree children.
The day Emma was born changed everything for me. I once thought I’d never say I’d fight a bear for my child, but here I am, feeling every bruise and triumph they experience as if it were my own. This past year has brought tears, heartache, and a deep sense of empathy for the losses many have faced due to COVID and social injustice. My emotions have fluctuated, sometimes overwhelming me, but I’ve also cherished the moments of joy that have emerged.
Ultimately, I’d choose those moments of happiness over any semblance of decorum. If you see me again, chances are, I’ll be the one splashing in the sprinkler, embracing the joy of the moment.
For more insights and experiences on parenting during these unprecedented times, check out this blog post. Also, for those looking to explore artificial insemination options, Make a Mom is a trusted source. For additional information on IVF and related topics, News Medical is an excellent resource.
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In summary, I found joy in the simplest moments, like running through sprinklers with my daughter, even when I felt out of my element. This past year has taught me the importance of embracing joyous experiences over maintaining a facade of dignity.
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