What it's Like Being Postpartum in a Pandemic

I knew many aspects of my life would change once I had a baby, especially in the first month or two. I was even looking forward to the few weeks before my due date that I’d be working from home, no longer commuting into Manhattan, and have a chance to slow down in preparation. On March 30, 2020, I gave birth to Christian, a beautiful baby boy. I was ready for motherhood. I had 32 years to focus on me, accomplished most of the goals of my 20s, and was ready to prioritize someone other than myself. I was mentally prepared to experience a dose or two of FOMO at the very least. Everything changed for me the second Christian was placed on my chest—but everything had also changed for the rest of New York. 

In the weeks leading up to the birth, I washed baby clothes, sterilized bottles, learned how to wear a Moby Wrap, and waited for my due date to approach. And as my due date inched closer, I came face to face with some harsh possibilities as the coronavirus pandemic escalated. I was riding the subway only days earlier and then, all of a sudden, working from home became mandatory, kids had to transition to learning at home with schools closed for the remainder of the year, there was a chance my husband wouldn’t be allowed in the hospital for the birth of our baby, and our parents may not get to meet their grandchild for weeks or months. It was at this point I realized that my birth experience would be farther out of my control than I ever thought possible. I knew it would be impossible to fully prepare myself for the overwhelming task of giving birth, but giving birth during a global pandemic? That was beyond anything I could have ever prepared for. There’s no rulebook on giving birth during a pandemic to reference. Once I accepted that, I realized I had no choice but to face whatever challenges came my way. 

I labored for 8 hours with a facemask on in a shared observation room while my husband was stuck in the waiting room. I moved recovery rooms twice after birth to make room for COVID-19 patients in the Labor and Delivery ward. I was the first patient to be moved in an ambulance with her baby across the hospital campus to another facility to recover. There wasn’t a nursery at the new facility, which meant I had no chance to rest or nap while recovering. I wasn’t allowed to hold or feed my baby a few hours after his birth because I spiked a fever. The staff wanted to test me for coronavirus, but luckily my fever broke pretty quickly and it wasn’t necessary. I never saw my nurses’ faces, I never met with a lactation consultant to get initial help with breast-feeding, and my husband had to leave an hour after the birth. I was discharged, alone with my baby, 24 hours after delivery at 3:30am in the back of the buildings’ parking lot while trying to figure out where my husband should pick me up. I’ve never felt as scared as I did that early morning, arriving home with a newborn—not rested, not fully recovered, and not totally sure I could take care of Christian on my own.