Madeline's Joy: Pre Madeline (before June 22, 2020)

I don't really know where to start. I find I can't bear the recent things. David was having a conversation with someone from "Walk With You" and he started the story with last August, 2022. I left the room.

So maybe I'll start with the beginning.

I was trying for my third baby a different August, in 2019. That didn't work, so we tried again the next month, with success. I realized, with some annoyance, that put the due date at June 18th. It was a good five days before my birthday, so I thought we'd avoid that, but June is a crowded month already. My birthday, our anniversary, Genevieve's birthday, Andy's birthday, Nathan's birthday, Scarlett's birthday, Christie's birthday, Melissa's birthday, Taraleh's birthday, my grandma's birthday, and her anniversary, are all in June. Added to that since is Nathan's wife, Maddie's birthday, and Andy's fiance Kyra's birthday. I decided to avoid September again forever so as to avoid June forever.

After she was born, I did "Juneday" for two years where we celebrated Genevieve's birthday, Madeline's birthday, and my birthday for good measure. I figured three birthdays made it worthy of the title. It was mostly for Genevieve, with Madeline too young to know what was going on.

My ideal birthday involves no parties, a wine bar, my mother, and cheese curds.

This year I would have decoupled them anyway, and, if Madeline were alive and home, I'd have thrown her a rager and cancelled mine completely.

But I digress.

I was sick a lot during the day into the second trimester. I used "nap time" to recline and play World of Warcraft. Reclining was the only time I felt ok.

Was my laptop on my lap a problem, a cause, an influence? I don't know.

They say you start to feel them as early as week 16 and often it will feel like "butterflies." Mine have all felt like little wiggle worms and I felt Madeline at week 15.

Like all the others, I erroneously guessed she was a boy.

Late pregnancy was difficult. My hips hurt a lot. I would do prenatal yoga stretching and try to do it every day, because it seemed to help me sleep better that night, for the pain to be less intense, come on slower. I had a body pillow.

And let's not forget the little thing that happened 2020. That was rumored late 2019, but had finally developed in the US in March of 2020.

Ugh, I thought, as the YouTube ads had morphed into actors telling me the importance of two weeks to flatten the curve and we're all in this together. I was in some sort of denial, and didn't like the reality that admitting to the existence of "the coronavirus" inferred on it. I read an article on what we knew about COVID-19 (was it even named then?) and how it affected kids. The answer, at the time, was that it didn't. Kids somehow were pretty resilient in the face of COVID, and babies even moreso. As deaths started to be counted, even here in the USA, the 0-1 age range remained at 0, and even later, single digits.

I decided to not worry about my children with no comorbidities. I was more at risk, and that was a risk I'd take. And so I chafed. I chafed at the cancelled activities and the closed playgrounds and Isabelle's second birthday where almost none of the family attended. I chafed at the temperatures taken, date stickers issued, and masks required at my appointments. I wanted all this nonsense to be over by the time I gave birth.

Naive, though I didn't know at the time.

"Love your neighbor," my midwife told me. She had her own comorbidities to worry her, and had already been present at the birth of the first COVID positive mother, wherein I believe she was dressed like an astronaut.

"If I didn't have the initiative to wear full PPE, I might not be here talking to you today," she told us.

I tried to make sure I wouldn't have to wear a mask in labor anyway. The hospital was still sporting homemade masks you could borrow at the door (PPE shortage) and I was pulling down my buff over my face. It was a lot easier for me to breathe through the single layer.

Otherwise the pregnancy was normal and low risk. I was GBS positive, which was a headache mostly because I didn't want to worry about getting there early for antibiotics.

I had a lot of prelabor. I was sure she'd come early, but she consistently didn't.

Family vacation was coming up at the end of May, and we were within that "don't go anywhere" date range. Responsibly, we sent our two older girls with Aunt Melissa. I went to an appointment and asked for an exam to see if I had dilated at all, and was told I had not.

"Ok," I told David coming out. "Let's go to Branson."

I also made sure I knew the closest hospital and what their COVID policies were. I wouldn't have to wear a mask in labor, but if we were positive, they would take the baby away. We decided to risk it.

We very much surprised the family and enjoyed the much more normal Branson, MO, I didn't have a baby, and I got back in time to not have to confess to my little out-of-state trip when they interrogated me at my next appointment.