March 20th, 2020

South Carolina

Things are so normal, yet they are not. The sun shines happily, the season of spring begins. As if on cue, a thin coat of pollen rests lazily upon all that dares to sit outdoors. Life, nature, these things continue on caring little for the concerns of humans.

The grocery store is open, but there’s no soap on the shelves. Disinfectant is a priceless commodity. I pass a popular restaurant, but no one sits inside. The bars no longer list bands and events on their marquees, but instead offer words of encouragement for passerby. Cars still travel through the streets, but rush hour nearly ceases to exist. Late night shows post videos daily, but now, the hosts are casually dressed and in their homes. As the number of cases increase, the quieter things become.

My partner goes to work, but with apprehension. He is one of the few that will still recieve an income, and is the only one in the house whose immune system is not compromised. I read the news daily, like I always have, but there is only one topic to be found. Even with all the information presented to me, it never seems like enough. The doctors call to tell me I must come to every appointment alone. The NICU tours have been cancelled, and no one but my spouse can be there to greet our daughter into the world. There are checkpoints at the beginning of every office visit, and the nurses tell me where to sit. My grandma looks longingly at the coupons that are soon to expire, knowing she should not go to the store. My sister wonders out loud about how many diapers she can afford to buy. We stay home as much as possible, and make an effort to remain patient. There are no rocks under which we can hide.

In the season of colds, allergies, and sinus infections, even a single cough sets everyone on edge. A touch of the face may get you burned at the stake. Habits once reserved for germophobes are adopted by the population. We are all on the edge of our seat, waiting to see what happens. No matter the outcome, there will be a group at the end of the road, waiting to say “I told you so.” The threat of disaster has a way of bringing out a person’s true colors.

Birds perch along the rooftops, watching people traipse in and out, their carts and cars full of hoarded goods. Squirrels chase each other through branches and leaves, happy to see the first rays of the season of growth. Dandelions brazenly make an appearance, and bushes begin to burst with color. Indoors, my cat saunters lazily toward an armchair, his only worries a clean litterbox and a bowl full of food. He seems pleased to have me home.

Last night, my husband told me that I would be foolish to not use this opportunity to write, that it would be a waste of my time if I didn’t take the initiative to hone my craft and finally flesh out the things I’ve done little more than brainstorm for the past year.

So, here I am, reporting to you live from self-isolation. I’m pregnant, exhausted, stressed, and concerned, but still making an effort.

-Marissa Wolfe

March 21, 2020

South Carolina

My husband is off for the next two days. This is his usual schedule, but the current state of affairs has him confined to the house with the rest of us. He recently found out that two of the rather wealthy elderly residents that work at his facility went on a cruise and were in close contact to the virus but refuse to isolate themselves. It would seem that the hubris of man knows not age, race, gender, or class.

He sits on the edge of the bed playing the electric guitar I gifted him early into our relationship. As he jumps up to face me, the iridesence of the abalone dragon carved into the fret board catches the light peeking through the blinds. It mirrors the glimmer that flashes in his eyes as he tells me he's learning the song "Biological Warfare" by the band Dethklok. He smirks, and says he felt like it was fitting for the theme of the times. Dark humor aside, I know he is worried. He recently contracted a sinus infection, and though the antibiotics he's been taking are working, he can't shake the fear that more may be wrong with him.

It's been a while since he and I have spent so much time alone together. We'd both gotten so caught up in work, doctor's visits, trying to socialize with others before the baby arrives...things of that nature. Seeing him fiddle around on the guitar takes me back to when we started dating. There have been a lot of little reminders of those days popping up lately.

Our baby shower would have been today. My mother-in-law was hosting and about two weeks ago, she made the executive decision to cancel until further notice. We understood and supported her reasoning, but I would be lying if I said that I'm not disappointed. Sentiments of normalcy slip away little by little with each passing day.

My husband turns around again to ask what I'm doing. I tell him I'm working on some writing. He gives me a sly smile and asks if I'm writing about how big my butt is. I smile back and then return to my keyboard. It's nice to see him in good spirits. Things will be okay, I think. For the time being, anyway.

March 22, 2020

South Carolina

My husband (Hayden) is still feeling under the weather, but we had no choice but to brave a trip to Wal-Mart. I dislike the grocery store chain on a regular day, but today's vemture was especially stressful. The store wasn't packed as we expected, but useful items were scarce. There was no bread to be found, packaged meat was gone, and the frozen fruits and vegetables were all but wiped out. Signs asking (in some cases, telling) customers to limit their purchase were taped hastily on the shelves. I have little patience for dilly-dallying and a lack of awareness in public spaces, and the frequency with which people would stop in the aisle or how slowly they moved at the self-checkout began to burn a very short fuse. Hayden, feeling sick and having recently given up cigarettes, headed to the car as I waited to check out. We are on edge, and trying hard not to snap at each other, although it doesn't always work.

My mother-in-law informed us this morning that she suspects that she and Hayden's father have been infected by employees at their respective jobs. She tells us that a co-worker returned to work after her training with the National Guard feeling sick. The co-worker's illness got worse, and she was eventually sent home with a fever only to return to work the next day. This person tested negative for strep and the flu, but was not able to obtain a test for COVID-19. Despite the fact that her grandmother was also now experiencing symptoms, she was refusing to tell HR because she doesn't want a possible infection traced back to her. I have heard that in some places, they're making it a crime to conceal if you've contracted the virus, but I'm not sure to the validity of that information.

The cases in my state went up again. 22 more overnight, so we're now at 195. Three deaths so far. We're ranked 23 out of 50 states for confirmed cases, with the state of New York currently taking the lead at nearly 16,000. We have plenty of supplies, but are running low on money. I recieve monthly food benefits through the WIC program (Women, Infants, and Children), but am fearful that by the time they renew, going to the store may be significantly more difficult.

A friend from the Netherlands messaged me today to ask how things are going in my side of the world. Turns out, they're not going much differently for them either. There seems to be a mass resistance against staying indoors and avoiding crowds.

I'd like to update my statement on hubris: it knows not age, class, gender, race, or national border.

March 23, 2020

South Carolina

I convinced Hayden to call out of work. He doesn’t have a fever, but has been sick for a few days and we don’t want to take any risks. I left the house as soon as he woke up to use the remainder of my last paycheck to get medicine for him. I made small talk with the woman working at the pharmacy and I think she may have unintentionally given me the cold meds for free. Under normal circumstances, I would have spoken up.

It reminds of a time when I was little and took candy from inside a bin at the local Bi-Lo. It was an honest mistake (I thought it was free) and my grandparents went back to the store and made me tell customer service what happened. I didn’t get in any trouble from the store- it was a trivial matter to them- but I knew my grandmother was trying to instill an important lesson in me. As I got into my car and and drove away, I wondered what the younger version of me would have to say. Would she scold me and ask me to remember how it felt to shamefully pull melted Now and Laters from our pocket? Or would she understand my reasoning? Would it even be worth the conversation? I try not to think too often about the way my child self would feel about some of the choices I’ve made throughout my life- I would not want to upset her.

While I was mulling over gray areas, my sister burst through the front door (returning from a trip to the same store I’d been at earlier), yelled “Someone at the CVS picked their nose and touched the goddamn keypad!”, and went on a rant about her disgust with people. Perhaps it is better for my health that I did not return to the pharmacy. Or maybe I am just looking for reasons to validate my behavior.

Regardless of my partially guilty conscience, I am trying not to overthink the turn of events. I used the last of my money to buy some last minute necessities at the very same Bi-Lo I’d accidentally stolen from nearly twenty years ago.

Am I ignorant to think that there are times where blessings come in choppy and questionable ways? Good fortune has many masks sitting upon its shelf. I hope that one was shown to me today.

March 27, 2020

South Carolina

Hayden has recovered and is going back to work. I, however, am now sick. I’m not sure if it’s the dust I’ve been kicking up while cleaning or the pollen that coats everything outside that’s got me feeling under the weather. I could have picked up Hayden’s sinus infection. Regardless, I cancelled my appointments for the day and have decided to stay home. I don’t think it’s COVID, but I would rather act responsibily, if not for my community, then at least for myself. The nurses would have asked if I was feeling any cold or flu-like symptoms, and I would not have the conscience to lie to them. I don't want to send an office full of pregnant women and their doctors into a frenzy. Although I must admit, I find the image of a herd of expectant mothers waddling for the door to be somewhat amusing.

In the earlier hours of the day, I heard a man’s voice come from downstairs. It was cheery but unfamiliar, and sounded too loud and too close to be a phone call. Could it be a great uncle or a distant cousin? My grandparents are each one of ten, and there are many relatives I haven’t met. Or perhaps a member of the church they once attended? I haven’t seen most of those folks in close to fifteen years. The voice inquired about “grandbabies”. My grandmother answered with a tone of familarity, but did not mention any of her grandchildren by name, unusual for a woman who has been known in the community for such a long time. Would my grandmother really have let someone she barely knows in the house at such a critical time? “I don’t think I’ve washed my hands as much in my life as I have in the past two weeks.”, the voice chirped. His statement set me somewhat at ease, although I worry about Edith’s casual approach. She hasn’t met this pandemic with skepticism, but I have detected some ignorance in her outlook. I will address this with her later; the last thing the old woman needs right now is an ambush.

I’ve been on a Star Trek marathon (Deep Space Nine, if you’re looking for specifics) and watched an episode the other day in which an asymptomatic virus runs rampant through the station. The crew, vastly unprepared for such a thing, scrambles to find a vaccine while their loved ones and shipmates fall ill. There is a rather stubborn character who refuses to be quarantined and nearly destroys the station (and himself) in the process. Hayden’s been playing Metal Gear Solid: V, and one of the plotlines in the game involves a highly contagious illness that attacks the respiratory system and is painfully hard to pin down. I find the parallels eeire. Is this a matter of sychronicity or am I so on edge that I have no choice but to be so painfully aware?

I would have liked to hear the beating of my daughter’s heart today. I worry about her, and even though she is quite literally connected to me, at times I need the reassurance. I am already anxious about not being able to protect her once she leaves the comfort of my womb, so it’s comforting to know that she is safe inside of it.

There are many projects on my list for today. But maybe it is best that I take the time to rest. The circles under my eyes are almost as dark as my hair. They never seem to go away.

March 30, 2020

South Carolina

The past few days in the house have been largely uneventful. Hayden and I continue to prepare for the baby. He works and I stay home cooking, cleaning, organizing, and going on the occasional Star Trek binge. I found a workbook from an English class I took in college, and in my down time, I've been using it to brush up on my grammar and narrative writing skills. I (somehow) managed to paint my toenails a futuristic silver, in honor of what we've decided to name our baby girl.

Hayden's grandmother stopped by the house to drop off some baby gifts. We spoke briefly (from a distance) and she went on her way. It's been a few months since I've seen her. Being in isolation makes me feel like I've taken the casual encounters I've had with my loved ones for granted. I think about the times I could have made an effort to go out, things I should have bought, or money we could have saved. I wish I could float into the days gone by, whisper softly into the ear of my past self, and urge her to act with a little more foresight.

My home is peaceful, but coronavirus cases continue to surge throughout the state. We are at 925 confirmed cases, and 18 deaths. Last I checked, approximately 50 of those cases are in my county. There are hundreds of unconfirmed tests on backlog, so those numbers will likely rise rapidly in the next coming days. Based on her symptoms, Hayden's mom was approved for drive-thru testing and is still waiting for her results. The governor has decided to close the beaches and boat ramps, but given spring break was about a week ago, it seems like the move seems like it's come a little too late. No new Marine recruits are arriving at the Parris Island base, as the COVID cases amongst those stationed there are on the rise. My doctor's office called to tell me that all my appointments would take place at the hospital instead of the doctor's office. The nurse advised that I arrive 15 minutes early to allow time to get through the checkpoint at the entrance of the building.

My grandmother and I have been spending more time together. I've finally convinced her to eat the food I make, and over dinner, she recounts her memories of growing up on a farm with nine siblings and her adventures as a mother of five. I can't keep up with so many names and birth years, but it's nice to see the notoriously guarded woman finally open up.

My cat, Lucien, has decided that he wants no longer wants anything to do with my husband. This saddens Hayden, although with as exhausted as we've been, it has somewhat of a relief to not have to fight the feline for spots on the bed.

April 7, 2020

South Carolina

Every time I get (somewhat) adjusted to the new not-so-normal, things amp up. I am in the group of women who have no choice but to continue in-person prenatal visits and so I find myself in doctors' offices twice a week. As I walked in for my ultrasound today, the nurses that now gatekeep the elevators asked me their usual set of questions ("Have you traveled recently? Have a cough or fever? Do you have an appointment? What floor are you going to?") but this time, they handed me a mask. I'm grateful that my local medical system is taking things so seriously, although having to wear masks and gloves for once routine occasions still strikes me as surreal. While I will comply for the sake of the health of my family and community, I don't know that this is something I want to just "get used" to.

I've been trying to work on pieces about having a high-risk pregnancy during a high-risk time, but the energy to do so often escapes me. I'd like to share my story in a more formal and widespread way, but at this point, naps seem much more appealing. My body is tired, and my hands and fingers are often swollen, and they make typing and writing a difficult task. Baby girl likes to roll and push around inside of my body, and the constant pressure in my abdomen and hips makes sitting up to type an arduous task. Some days, I feel as if the skin stretching across my stomach is going to rip in two. Even the escapism of fantasy writing does not seem like enough.

Even as cases continue to rise, the governor has been reluctant to issue a strict and all encompassing order, and instead has chosen to make an extensive list of businesses and public areas that are required to close. My mother-in-law's COVID test came back negative, and so we paid Hayden's parents a visit- in the backyard, while sitting at least six feet away. My mother is still on a work contract in Iowa, and I am unsure if she will make it back in time for the birth. I worry about the possibility of virus-related travel restrictions causing her to get stuck in one state or the other.

I read an article recently that projected the peak of the pandemic for various states in the US. The date predicted for South Carolina is the same as my induction, the 28th. I wonder how different things will be, even just three weeks from now. I suppose there is little I can do but take life as it comes, day by day.

April 20, 2020

South Carolina

In the midst of the coronavirus tension, baby girl decided to come early. After a grueling 40 hour labor followed by an emergency c-section, our daughter made a dramatic entrance into the world. The story itself deserves to be written as a piece of its own, but even though the haze of the painkillers has finally worn off, I’m struggling to find a place to start. I’m not even sure I’ve fully processed everything that has happened.

For the past ten days, I’ve placed any news about the coronavirus on the backburner. It’s become a situation of which I am passively aware. Throughout my hospital stay, I didn’t see the lower half of any of the staff’s faces, and tried to remember things like piercings, tattoos, and mannerisms to correctly identify who I was speaking with. I tried to check name tags as frequently as possible, but the oxycodone I’d been prescribed provided constant challenge to my memory. I was hesitant to accept the mask wearing/frequent sanitization/locked down state of things as the new normal but spending so much time in the hospital has forced me to deal with the way life is and likely will be for the foreseeable future.

I’ve made trips to the NICU almost every day since she’s been born. The already strict visitation regulations for the ward have been tightened even further. Hayden and I are the only ones can visit at all, but only one of us is allowed in per day. I’ve felt her skin without gloves only a few times, and sometimes when the nurses walk out of the room, I briefly pull down my mask so I can smell her hair. The way she reacts to her pacifier makes me feel as if she is ready to feed, and it saddens me that for now, the only way she can recieve my breastmilk is through cotton swabs and syringes. The staff set up a camera so we can watch her while we’re at home, but it pales in comparison to the hour or two a day that I am able to hold her in my arms.

The number of cases in the state have passed 4,200, with 100 deaths total. Thankfully, it has been reported that approximately 67% of those cases have thus far ended in recovery. The governor is planning to reopen the beaches and retail businesses by next week (with some minor limitations), a move that makes me incredibly nervous. My mother is returning from her work contract in Iowa next week, and I worry about her traveling through so many states.

There is not much I can do other than to try and take precautions. That, and wait for things to blow over, both with my daughter and with the virus.

April 23, 2020

South Carolina

My mother will be back by the weekend. I have some hang-ups about her return, but I know better than to try to get in her way once her mind is made up. Hayden cannot wrap his head around why she is so insistent on coming home when she'll end up having to return in the next coming weeks, but I know my mother- and I know she misses her family. She will probably never verbalize it, but being away from her pregnant daughter and newborn granddaughter is likely tearing her apart.

We've been approved for an apartment and will be moving in the next week or so. I'm grateful that my husband, child, and I will be in our own space, but the chaos of everything happening right now is overwhelming. I am still healing from my c-section, and cannot do much other than pack light boxes and try to game plan. Our daughter is still in the NICU and I worry about being too far from her.

We recently found out that we may have been exposed to the virus. Until the potentially exposed person's results come back, neither one of us has been to hospital to visit her in the past few days. It was revealed yesterday that the original test was spilled in transit and another one must be taken, so we will have to wait even longer. While I feel the test will come back negative, I am burdened with anxiety. The hospital has a camera with a live feed so that we can see our daughter, but it is not the same. Bottles of breastmilk are building up in my fridge, and I worry that she will need the burgeoning supply of milk before I am able to deliver it to her. If I've been exposed, it won't matter- I'll have to throw it all out anyway.

I've been trying to occupy my mind and time with writing and preparing for life during and after the move. I meditated for the first time in months today and listened to an album I haven't heard since high school. In some ways, I am feeling like myself again. In others, not at all.

As he sat with me in the hospital, Hayden turned to me and told me that I would not be the same person leaving that I was when I came in. With each day that passes, I come to see just how right he was.