COVID Saved My Family

I realized something bizarre and profound this morning. As I hugged my son during a leisurely, impromptu break in my now-at-home yoga practice, following his bleary-eyed wandering into my bedroom for a snuggle and some reading before his day of remote learning began, it struck me. COVID saved my family.

Now, I recognize COVID for the heartbreaking disaster that it is and I do not say this to minimize the profound loss and challenge this pandemic has brought. I also recognize that, among this loss and challenge is tragically disparate care and circumstances, exacerbated by this global health crisis. The trauma and struggle is very individualized and so different for each of us. Domestic abuse has risen and the options seem more bleak. And those who must work outside of the home are faced with impossible choices. I know how fortunate I am that I have a partner in this and that we both have the option of doing our work from home without meaningful disruption. I also recognize we are immensely privileged to have the means to make this all work.

All that said, and despite my hesitation to write this in light of it, it is also true that this pandemic has changed the trajectory of my family and saved us in the process. Those who know me know I like to try to find silver linings (I think it stems from my inner control freak and desire to make everything right in the world… A topic for another essay…), and in this incredibly strange and painful time, perhaps this is mine. Those who know me also know, I believe we grow and gain so much through sharing our experiences. They expose our shared humanity, bringing us closer together and often planting seeds of inspiration that then grow into beautiful trees with time. So, whatever your situation at this time, I will share this strange realization in case it was meant to be a paving stone on your journey.

I guess to start, I should let you know a little bit about my life pre-COVID. Or maybe I shouldn’t. It looks so crazy now. But, alas, I must admit, I was completely indoctrinated into the cult of busyness.

I love my career. Or, maybe, I love the chase. Growth and improvement, constantly striving, getting high with positive impact. And, I’ve had incredible experiences as a result. Working alongside great minds and interesting people, taking on meaty projects and exploring subjects that intrigue me, seeing the world and learning more about its people and cultures. All of these things in volumes beyond anything I would have dared to dream growing up. Except, reflecting on it, I see it became a bit like an all you can eat buffet. Where that fifth helping makes you feel ill but, all the while through the discomfort, you bask in the great fortune of being able to have as much as you want.

Weeks were a dizzying carousel of meetings to attend, issues to discuss and problems to be solved. The alarm would ring at 5 a.m. Pee. Scale. Coffee. News. Inbox. Exercise (quickly!). Email shower combo. Hair, makeup, email combo. Dial in to conference call and mute while scrambling to get son out the door to school. Drive to work, notes for call open on passenger seat. Park and run to third floor. Begin the daily in-person meeting relay race, where the winner is the one who not only timely attends and participates, but also manages to stay at inbox zero. Back and forth between buildings. Random time with team sprinkled in. Last minute issues while trying to walk out the door to head home. Late arrivals. Hunger pains and hurt feelings. Discreetly taking calls, texts and emails into the night. Evening routine email combo. Lights out. Rinse and repeat.

Weekends were a combination of mental overflow from the week spent running a marathon at a sprint and preparation for the week ahead. The time where the ideas still floating in my mind like flecks in a snow globe gently settled into my intuition. Mental notes emailed to myself so they didn’t slip away in the flurry. Splitting my brain between the moment immediately before me and the moments ahead and behind. Wheels constantly turning. Filing ideas into their mental cabinets: Need to get the dry cleaning. Notes for performance reviews. Vision for an upcoming project. What are we doing for dinner? Thoughts on the strategy refresh. I think the shower’s leaking. Did I send that email to Dave? Multi-tasking became an art form, deftly layering my work demands into an efficient weave with everyday life. Lining up items in my closet over the course of Saturday and Sunday ahead of a trip. Grab a towel for my son’s shower, pack my toiletry kit. Pull out my passport, take a moment to teach my son about travel logistics and local culture. Midnight taxi to LAX capping off a full weekend. Red taillights, the only sign of life on my sleepy suburban street this long past bedtime.

Business trips were a medley of working double time to stay caught up on the day-to-day work after having meetings all day and trying to see and learn as much as I could each place I went. Dinners and sights in the evenings, walking each city at dawn. Meanwhile, there was the toll on my family. We had a standard protocol for periods of intense travel. My partner assumed full responsibility for our son and my parents and friends helped out a bit here and there so he was able to have some windows for himself. But they were few and far between. Neither one of us is big on phone calls and, if I’m being honest, we really didn’t have much to say. So, we hardly spoke. And, when we did or I sent pictures, I could feel the resentment building. Or maybe it was just the space between us growing.

On top of being one such intense travel period, the fall of 2019 was one of work crises. So, when I was home, I was kind of doing the Entourage Ari Gold thing, plugging my free ear on a call and pacing on the sidelines of my son’s flag football game, shouting to be heard over the commotion. Or I’d be deep in an email draft on the soccer field Saturday morning as the other moms chatted about things like sports drinks and snacks. I was so proud of myself when I could actually make it to the games but, in reality, I wasn’t really there. And I think the boys felt that.

Now, please don’t get me wrong and think I’m mom-shaming myself. I’m not. I strongly believe in the benefits my career, ambition and passion bring to my son and I can already see it shaping his worldview and his belief of what is possible. I’m tremendously proud of that. I also know my partner loves my drive and wouldn’t have it any other way. And, neither would I. But I’m starting to see that I was hiding in some of it…

Work offered a comparably straightforward place where I could go to have impact and some measure of control, even when things were spinning out at home. Similarly, I’m a fairly social person (“extremely extroverted introvert” is where I’ve landed after much reflection…) but, while I truly enjoyed my time with my friends, I now see some of that was an escape as well. I’d go from work weeks scheduled to the minute, right into weekends with activity after activity, bouncing frenetically from one commitment to the next.

My partner longed and pled for days with nothing scheduled (“introverted introvert who plays an extrovert on demand” is where he’s landed…) and I scoffed. How could we possibly do that and still maintain friendships we hardly had time for as it was? There were so many “shoulds” in my week, I could barely see straight. I resented the fact that deciphering them and the Rubik’s cube that was our schedule always fell to me and that his inertia slowed me down. This, of course, took a lot of the fun out of these things we planned for “fun”. Tension boiled beneath the surface of everything, threatening to bubble over at any moment and catching us by surprise at the most inopportune moments.

Enter COVID.

Even before official lockdown started, we’d begun to socially distance (before that was a term in common parlance). Everything was a question mark so it just seemed natural to hunker down when and where we could. While we’d gotten into the habit of ordering in, our instinct was to go back to cooking. I remember that first weekend of really pulling back, we went to the grocery store together, filling our carts with frozen pizza crusts, sauce and a generous selection of cheeses and toppings. Back at home, we got cozy and comfy and settled in. Soft, fuzzy blankets. Warm, fluffy slippers. Bottle of red open on the counter, saved from a trip to the Central Coast. Fireplace aglow. When it came time to make our dinner, we dug out the pizza stone my mom had given us years before, which until that moment had been living deep on a shelf gathering dust, and turned on “That’s Amore”. Dancing around the kitchen and singing off key, we were all smiles and laughter as we made our masterpieces. Then, we cuddled on the couch and watched a movie, setting the tone for the slow, lazy weekends ahead.

Over the months to come, through the strain of increased responsibilities, intense pressure, anxiety and uncertainty, at times falling apart, we experimented with all sorts of low-key fun in our free time. Long hikes and walks on the beach, embracing nature and wide-open spaces, taking our delicious time because we had nothing else to do and nowhere else to be. Snoozy lie ins, reading or writing together with the covers pulled up tight. Languid afternoons of music and art projects in the sunshine. Karaoke dance parties. Watching virtual concerts and getting a little tipsy after bedtime. Clam bakes and travel-themed nights to feed our culture and adventure needs from the comfort and safety of home. Evolving from missing what we no longer had, to embracing the plentitude around us. Plans were loose, options were simultaneously limited and bountiful. Quiet moments for creativity and hobbies abounded. Suddenly, there was room for the things I’d always believed I couldn’t make time for. The things I said I longed to do but somehow never made the list. In all this empty space, life became full of precious moments I now saw my busyness kept me from before. And I became taken with the beauty in the richness and luxury of time. Through the lens of loss, we were shown the value of what we still had. Of what we once took for granted.

Watching the boys cooking together, music in the air, sharing a toast and a long-awaited glass of wine with my partner, I began to realize how much I truly enjoyed my crazy family. There was no one I’d rather be in quarantine with. We made things fun and all the things that drew my partner and I to each other initially, long-muted by adulting and the demands of a too-busy life, began to come back into focus. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but we found ourselves hugging and kissing again. And not just because our marriage counselors told us to… The energy surrounding us was lighter and brighter and things just started to flow.

And, as we became more of our true selves and enjoyed one another, it created a halo that radiated around our son. He’s always been a happy kid, but he began positively beaming. Each weekend morning, I’d wake to the feeling of a smile and open my eyes to see his huge grin an inch from my face, followed immediately by a giant hug. Mid-week, I was usually first of us to rise but it was never long before I’d hear those little footsteps and then see those blond curls bounce into my room. Little, energy-packed body bounding into my bed for a cuddle.

Once close-lipped about school, as summer ended and the new year began, our eager learner couldn’t share enough. Close proximity and recess at home meant new possibilities. He’d run up to my desk and excitedly tell me all about his latest art project, math problem, science experiment. While he’s always had a fair amount of self-assuredness, it blossomed in this environment. His confident contributions seemed to come from a place of fully engaged whole-heartedness, making suggestions and offering opinions as an energetic equal. Three peas in a pod. While still so much a kid, he seemed to grow up so much so quickly, gaining a maturity and insight above his seven years. And, through it all, we were blessed with a breathtaking view into his mind and spirit.

Our family has been so close together. In all the days and ways. Still the same but somehow new. Finishing each other’s sentences. Inside jokes woven from endless hours and micro-experiences together. Laughing like the world outside could wait. Snuggling like there was no place to go. Finding ways to support each other. At our worst and at our best. Through the stress and the fear, the torment and the unknown. One falls down, the others pick up. New ways of sharing. New ways of caring. Seeing each other like never before.

What struck me this morning is that all of this abundance was here before – all of it within our grasp – but we never slowed down long enough to see it. All the little moments and the magic I’m realizing I missed before, when our time together was a rushed morning minute, a quick bite and bed. Hidden treasures that may have remained buried forever had the pandemic not forced a pause. Had we not relaxed into the stillness.

(Written early fall 2020)