I never anticipated that we would find ourselves in such an unprecedented situation. How could I have foreseen this? Nevertheless, I want you to know how truly sorry I am that life isn’t better right now.
I regret not being prepared for this upheaval. I didn’t have a strategy for how we would navigate months at home, devoid of school, activities, and playdates—those familiar routines that used to keep you engaged. We’re doing our utmost with what we have—frequent Amazon Prime deliveries and an abundance of screen time. While you may find some joy in this, I wish I could offer you more.
I apologize for my inability to answer all of your questions. I know you have many, and as your mother, it’s my desire to provide clarity. Yet, there are concepts that I struggle to explain at your tender age, and there are things I don’t understand myself.
I feel bad that you are missing out on time with your friends at school and that your only interactions with peers are through a computer screen. I regret that I’m not adept at facilitating these virtual connections for you. My social media feeds are filled with images of your friends enjoying lunch via Zoom and playdates over FaceTime. They appear serene and enjoyable, but our experience at home feels quite different, and for that, I apologize.
I’m sorry that although I am present at home all day while working remotely, I can’t fully engage with you. My work used to signal the end of my workday and the beginning of our time together. Now, you are aware of my physical presence but not my emotional availability. I often hear your laughter from another room, and it pains me when I hear you call for me. It breaks my heart to step out momentarily and hear you ask, “Mom, are you done with work yet?” I’m sorry I choose to limit our interactions during the day to avoid this disappointment.
I also regret that I’m not the parent I aspired to be. Perhaps I felt this way even before the pandemic, but now it’s magnified. My patience is thin, and I’m overwhelmed with anxiety about the current state of our world. Unfortunately, you and your father often bear the brunt of my stress, and I’m sorry for that.
I feel remorse when I have to tell you not to hug your father when he returns from the grocery store. I can only imagine how bewildering it must be for you to adjust to a reality that feels so unnatural to us as parents. The joy you used to express upon his arrival always warmed my heart. Now, that embrace brings me fear, as it could be the very moment that puts you at risk.
I wish you could hug your grandparents. Throughout your life, we’ve encouraged closeness with them, and now we’ve suddenly imposed distance. This contradiction is confusing. We’ve attempted to maintain those connections through FaceTime and socially-distanced visits, but I realize this doesn’t make sense to you.
Above all, I find myself apologizing for feeling sorry. Logically, I know that much of this is beyond my control and that we are all grappling with similar challenges. I recognize our privilege compared to many others. I want to focus on the positive and cherish this unexpected time together, yet that proves difficult at times.
In summary, while the world around us continues to shift, I want you to know that I deeply regret the confusion and challenges you are facing during this time. We’re navigating this together, and I will always strive to support you, even in this new reality. For further insights on home insemination, you can explore this post on Home Insemination Kit. Additionally, you may find useful information at Make a Mom regarding fertility topics, and the CDC offers excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.