Mother’s Day 2020: “Motherhood” Reflections on Regrets and Reconnections during the COVID-19 Pandemic

Like many parents, I received advice from those who had gone before me to “cherish these days because before you know it, your kids will be grown, launched, and out of the house.” And, like most, I smiled, nodded, wistfully anticipated grown independent offspring, and quickly turned back to my immediate goals of keeping energetic toddlers alive and free from major trauma. I knew those launching days would come. But futuristic thoughts were pushed aside and didn’t necessarily lead to me being more present, engaged, or filled with gratitude when I was faced with middle school hormonal surges and what seemed to me to be very unnatural, almost vampire-like, abilities to stay awake so long, and sleep away so much daylight.

I wasn’t not present, but I was a full-time mom and a full-time nursing professor, pursuing badges of motherhood and tenure that at times seemed to be reachable only by splitting myself in two. Work opportunities flooded my inbox, my calendar, and my travel schedule. I spent a lot of time away from home doing “good in the world”, but still, away from home. Midway through my career development I experienced a relationship crash, and subsequent years of intense pain, sorrow, and loss. So did my kids. They were a pre-teen and an adolescent, respectively, when the divorce was finalized, and no amount of time, love, or family therapy would be able to give them back what they had lost. What I don’t regret from those difficult years was the renewed sense of motherhood I experienced, and the intense focus I had on making sure my kids were as whole as they could be, as protected as was physically, socially, and emotionally possible, and as loved as their inner hearts and souls could feel. Maybe I was always mom first, but in those months and years, I felt I lived out my ‘mom first’ identity in a very tangible way; being a nurse and tenured professor was a distant (yet productive) second.

Fast forward five years to today. This evening my 15-year-old son finished dinner, thanked me, muttered an “I love you too” and retreated to the couch to relax after an exhausting afternoon of skateboarding and flying a drone. My 17-year-old daughter went up to her room to ‘nap’ after dinner, having spent the day working on her senior thesis, playing original music on the piano, and baking banana bread. I found myself sitting at the table, alone, reflecting on our new realities in the midst of this global pandemic. And I had tears streaming down my face as I realized I was living out blessings of this governor mandated shelter-in-place. The blessings of time and presence. Of being around my first born so much these weeks and months before she sets off in the world to begin her life as an undergraduate student. Is she loving these days and this amount of time together? Not entirely. Her extroverted being is longing for socialization and time with friends. Is she spending hours with me, talking and connecting? Um, not really. Yet she is here, and it’s the little things throughout the day---checking in with each other, sharing a meal, having brief conversations between my video conferencing and her online coursework---that are strengthening our bond, expressing love and support, and fostering connection in a really special way. Last week when the neighborhood created a noisy ‘front line worker thank you’, my daughter joined me on the front steps with a pot and spoon, contributing noise, laughing, and being a part of the neighborhood ‘whole’. So many aspects of that experience would have never happened a month ago. Ever. (She and my son still refuse to make a TikTok video with me, however).

Amid the very real stressors and challenges of living through this pandemic and being quite confined to home, tonight I realized how much I am cherishing these hours, days, and weeks. I love that one of us is not racing out the door every morning. I love making breakfast (well, really it is lunch by the time both kids are up and actually eating) and being around to see them get started with their day. I love hearing one of them on the piano while the other sits nearby, laughing about something I’m told I will never understand. I don’t necessarily love trying to fall asleep when they are still very awake, dancing in the kitchen, and then deciding it isn’t too late to make a batch of cookies. I stay awake until I’m sure the oven is turned off and they have eventually made it to their beds for the night. I might be a bit sleep deprived, but I am overflowing with feelings of connection, love, and gratitude.

Soon the pandemic will subside. A new normal will surface. We will continue to mourn those we have lost. We will focus on preparing for future waves, or the next zoonotic threat. We will be back in our offices and schools. My daughter will graduate from high school, forever memorialized as the ‘virtual’ Class of 2020 and the COVID-19 pandemic. I will help her get to where the next part of her journey leads, and I will grieve her physical departure. But I won’t look back on this pandemic tragedy regretting the days at home following shelter-in-place guidelines. We have had so much time together. So much beautiful time. I have cherished it. And I will be eternally grateful.

I recognize I am a white single mom writing about a blessing I’ve experienced during a pandemic that is literally killing thousands physically and destroying hundreds of thousands economically, emotionally, and socially. I realize my reflections this evening are possible because I had food to prepare for dinner tonight, because my children and I are healthy (as are my at-risk parents), because we feel safe in our highland park home with a “guard” dog, because I am still employed and receiving a paycheck, because I can work from home, because my children can each do school work on their own devices with a reliable internet connection, because while I am an essential health care worker I am not on the front lines day after day after day, because I have countless friends and family I can reach out to for support if needed, and because every social determinant of health is in my favor.

Carolyn Porta