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Year 2 of the pandemic is coming to an end and I have never felt more alone. 

No! Not because I am locked up in my house against my will. 
No! Not because I have lost friends.
No! Not because of a depression caused by the constant negativism spewing from various forms of media. 
No! Not because of social deprivation. 

It is because choosing the path of putting our trust in medicine and science has put us into a group of self-isolating weirdos; sheeple that follow instructions handed down from the top without questioning; the paranoid ones that disregard the psychological effects of a prolonged lockdown; or my personal fave…the communists that want to take freedom of choice away from the people. 

I know that this post has the potential to piss a lot of people off, generate hate and provide ammunition to social media trolls and bullies, but I feel it is important for people to hear different views and, who knows, it might make some people a bit more empathetic to their friends and offer some of us – sheeple – a bit more peace. 

Like most, at the start of the pandemic, we thought it will be just a matter of months before we get back to our normal lives. And like everyone, we were dealt constant blows by the damning news and worsening of the situation. But here is where we took a different turn. We put our trust in science. Most of us underwent a mind shift that allowed us to see this situation as a real pandemic. A pandemic that has the potential to continue for years. We had and still have some mistrust, of course. However, we made the decision to stay up to date with the latest research. No! Not the ever-damning news, but the real scientific research. We started following doctors, virologists, and scientists who dedicated their time and effort to figure out everything there is to know about this virus. We read predictions by economists, historians, doctors who explained that we are in for a long haul. We disregarded the empty promises by the politicians because we knew that they conflicted with the research and predictions of those who were closest to the virus and those who had the ability to foresee the actual effects of a global pandemic of this magnitude. 

No! We did not let the news depress us. We did not choose to hide in our houses scared for our lives. We adapted.

Some of us picked up on new hobbies or began tackling projects from our long-term lists. Others immersed themselves in work or looked for ways to become more involved with organizations that offered help to those in need. Some put all their effort into their children and focused on providing them with normalcy and adventures, as much as possible. We biked in the summer, we played games in the winter, we kept ourselves busy. But most of all… we kept a balanced, logical attitude towards this pandemic and tried to keep up to date with all that was going on, even if that meant that we might have to “give up” our freedoms when a new strain emerged again. 

So why the loneliness? 

Because our choices gradually separated us from our closest people. I say gradually because pandemic fatigue did not happen overnight. At first, we were all in this together. Then we started having small sudden shifts in our comfort zones. The prolonged lockdowns and confusing policy decisions did not make things any easier. Those who listened to the news and politicians became less patient; more untrusting; frustrated by the constant push and pull strategies that were enforced; trapped in an emotional vortex, exhausted by having to navigate full-time work, online school, and chores with all members of the family constantly present at all times. So it wasn’t surprising when most people embraced Phase 1 and the opening of life again.

However, while we embraced those freedoms as well, we did so maintaining vigilance, safety, and keeping a constant eye on the latest findings. And that meant that we said no to indoor gatherings and big get-togethers indefinitely until it was safe to do so. That meant that when we had outdoor gatherings we kept our distance; during outdoor playground and play dates we wore our masks. That meant that dining out became extremely rare and limited to not busy patios only. So when another winter came upon us and the birthday season began we were those friends that had to say no to all invitations to unmasked indoor events. 

The thing is that every time we have to deny another invitation to a close friend’s birthday bash, we grow more and more lonely. Not because we experience a great case of FOMO but because our efforts, knowledge, and fears are not shared; because discussing the real statistics and dangers of Covid is becoming more and more of a taboo topic, one of those topics you stay away from during Thanksgiving dinners. It is disheartening when you see everyone around you shut themselves off to the reality that is unfolding, purposefully choosing ignorance, as the other path comes with bouts of insecurities and inconveniences. It hurts when you realize that you are alone in your pursuit for knowledge, as everyone else seems to have assumed the position of “life goes on” or “we are all bound to get it someday”, or “ugh not more Covid talks please, it is depressing and aggravating”. It is lonely because our efforts are seen as drastic measures. We have become the outcasts, the anomaly, the irrational few, some might even call us cowards. But what hurts the most, is that neither of them is willing to reach out and talk about why we made these choices, even though we have made it clear that our door is always open. 

Now, we have been blessed with incredible, loving and trustworthy friends and I have very little doubt in my mind that as soon as this whole thing is over we will be able to pick up exactly where we left off. Until then, we will welcome anyone who wants to hang out safely, continue to catch up and reach out to our friends all over the globe, embrace outdoor activities safely and above all, maintain our confidence in those who dedicate their lives and careers to getting us past this inconvenience. Some of us have been lucky to find new friends who share our views and thus entertain long discussions about our current situation. We will continue to read and stay up to date on this pandemic in the more logical, rational, and cool-headed way possible. And we hope that we all get to find each other again, once this thick fog has lifted. 

XOXO

Your worried friend

P.S. This post was never intended as a Them vs Us insinuation, it has no purpose other than to share the view of the few. Hopefully, it will create awareness for some, maybe even a bit more empathy towards those who have chosen to take it easy until this is over. This post certainly does NOT promote the idea of social isolation and I understand the importance of social interactions and relationships. But maybe it will help some see their “cautious” friends and family members in a more pleasant light. And expose the fact that maybe we are not right to assume that we are all in this together, as everyone has a completely different reality during this pandemic. Keep in touch with your loved ones, no matter their opinions and views. Have empathy and love towards each other, now more than ever.

We will overcome this!

I recently had a conversation with a close friend of mine who was shattered by watching a family member go through a very late stage of miscarriage. Needless to say, it brought up a lot of buried feelings…

It is never easy to have a conversation about this, no matter whether you are the one doing the telling or the one landing the shoulder and tissue box. It is painful, uncomfortable, and lonely. So today, I would like to take some time to share a few thoughts on this matter, as someone who has been on both ends of this conversation.

* * *

Before I begin, I must issue a warning that there are a few uncomfortable details ahead, which might not be for those sensitive on this matter.

* * *

The elevator pitch: I went through an early miscarriage just before my firstborn was about to turn one. It was one of the darkest moments in my life.

The dossier: It was Thanksgiving. I was with my family when I started to experience abdominal discomfort, which escalated into light bleeding. I vaguely remember telling my mother in a cool, pragmatic tone as I was leaving: “Well, something is definitely happening and I don’t think the baby will make it.”

Looking back now, I am certain that at that point my brain had already calculated the very low probability of this being “nothing to worry about” and my prefrontal cortex had assumed a dominant role in an effort to minimize the emotional collapse.

I drove home buried in my thoughts, put my baby to sleep, and rushed to the bathroom, as the discomfort had now grown into a distant but unmistakable pain…I was in labour and I was only 7 weeks along.

I sat on the toilet and tried to calm my rushing mind. I attempted to steady my breathing and meditate when I felt two large lumps fall out. My heart sunk as I knew exactly what they were: my baby followed by the placenta. I stood there shaking, my face in my hands and remember hearing my mind buzzing, desperately looking for another logical explanation. One that would result in my baby being ok. And then I heard myself utter: “Rest in peace my little one, I am sorry we never had a chance. I hope you know that you will always be mine and I will love you forever.”

It wasn’t until I reached for the toilet button and heard the flushing sound when I collapsed. I crumbled in the bathtub feeling the hot water wash away my tears and muffle my sobs and I remember praying that the water doesn’t wash away my memories.

I was only 7 weeks along. 7 weeks! And I believe the memory of that night will stay with me forever. I probably should mention that just four days before I had made up my mind to keep the baby. You see, my partner and I did not see eye to eye when it came to the size of our family nor were we prepared to have another child soon after our first one. It was a tough time for both of us and we had certainly not found our rhythm yet after the cathartic event (the birth of our daughter) altered our lives less than a year ago. After a couple of weeks of back and forth, I finally decided to have the baby. I guess the universe had a different plan.

 Now every time late June approaches (that was the estimated due date) I cannot help but remember that night and wonder what could have been. What would they have looked like? What kind of a person would they have become? What lessons would they had been able to teach me? I try not to dwell on this too much but I know with certainty, that a little piece of me was flushed away that day as well. 

* * *

I decided not to stay silent about this and tell my story partly because I cannot let myself forget but also because I know that millions of you will go through this and it is important to know that you are not alone and that you can overcome this. You are not a misfit, about 10-20% (possibly even higher) of pregnancies end in miscarriages. 

Grief will consume you for a short while, or it might make you completely numb to your surroundings (it is what happened to me). And at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter really, how you chose to say goodbye, just trust that you will be ok! 

For a while, you will see people walking on eggshells around you, which could make you feel even worse, just know that things will once again resume their normal pace. 

Take time to heal, 

To internalize, 

To cry,

To write, 

To scream, 

And know that this too is ok! 

I know plenty of people who went through this, each story more traumatizing than the other and know that it is important to have people around you to land you emotional support. I am lucky to have incredible humans close to me and a mother who herself had been through this. I have come to believe in and rely on the strength of support groups be it family, friends or even strangers. 

A client of mine had gone through three miscarriages, one of them with twins and it broke her a little every time. 

An acquaintance of mine was almost 7 months along when they told her that she had complications and the baby had died. She had to go through stillbirth and bury her daughter. 

A family member of a friend of mine had to go through the same when she was 8 months along. They decided to hold a vigil. The sight of the small casket lowered into the ground will haunt my friend and her family forever. Another person I know went through the same as I did with the difference that she was 5 months along, she held the baby in her hands and saw a fully formed human with ten fingers and toes, a button nose and eyelashes. They named him and went with a proper burial. 

* * * 

We all grieve in different ways but just know that in this dark moment you have millions of women standing behind you supporting your weight when your knees are shaking; 

we are there to join in when you need to scream, 

an anguished ensemble, 

a whaling choir, 

voices rising, 

messengers of grief. 

And know that this too shall pass, this too will be a distant memory and you have every right to choose whether you want to hold on to it or let it be carried away by the wind. You will overcome this, you will be whole again, you will steady your hand, you will steady your mind because you are strong, resilient, vigorous even though it might not feel like it at this time. Just know….

 Know that you are not alone, you never were, and many more will join this formation of incredible, strong women…

this sisterhood of ours.