I am going into my seventh week of lock-down, and it’s all more of the same: same four walls to stare at, same tv shows to watch, same monotonous job (which I am extremely grateful to have), same rain and wind keeping me off my balcony (boo!). I can feel the hit my psyche is taking (my treadmill is starting to guilt-talk to me again because I’m not using it). And now, for the first time, the coronavirus lock-down is causing collateral damage to me personally.*
I should have been in New York this weekend. This time of year usually kicks off birthday season in my family. I am actually the first, but I never celebrate my birthday unless forced, like the time I got kidnapped to Medieval Times for my 30th. But usually, I keep it very low key if I do anything at all. The kids in my family, however, are a whole different story. Up until Wednesday, I had never missed a birthday. It actually hurt me to miss this one, especially such a big one – it was a 10th birthday, so double digits, which only happens once in a lifetime.
I had discussed the possibility that this could happen when I was there in early March. We decided then that if I did have to miss it, we would choose a weekend later and make it a special birthday one. But it wasn’t going to be the same.
Thank goodness the new 10-year-old’s mom was aware of what a big deal the day would be, so she started to plan. All of the extended family members recorded messages which she spliced together into a big birthday message. There was also a giant football cake, a scavenger hunt, and the emotionally sensitive younger sibling made the birthday kid breakfast in bed (I was so proud of the younger – that was really nice). And, of course, my dad had to call and sing happy birthday in multiple languages. ‘Cause that’s what he does.
When I got to speak to the newly minted 10-year-old right before bed, they said it had been the best birthday ever. I was so glad to hear that. It meant that we were able to mitigate some of the hurt from not celebrating with friends and that our (extended family) presence was felt. We will have a lot to live up to next year.
It’s still upsetting to not be there in person for hugs, helping build with Legos, and squishing children on the couch, but it’s not about how I feel. It was about making sure the 10-year-old felt like the day was as big a deal as it should have been. It makes me happy that we were able to do that.
There are a pair of kid birthdays coming in about eight weeks, and I really hope I will be able to be there in person. As it stands now, I just don’t know. Lock-down orders may be lifted, but with my compromised immune system and an infant in my brother’s house, my family will have to have a discussion to decide what’s safest. Maybe by then we as a country will be able to test 5 million people a day. Maybe remdesivir will have been proven an effective treatment. Maybe not. Either way, I’m sure this is not the only collateral damage I will have to navigate.
* For the record, I acknowledge how privileged I am to have all of my necessities met when so many others do not, and that my collateral damage is a lot less damaging than the things a lot of people are dealing with. But it still hurts.