4th Trimester
I’m delighted to introduce you to Emma, a sex therapist and trauma-informed yoga instructor who has a voracious love of life and growth. Going through a pandemic isn’t easy for anyone, but I can’t imagine who it is harder for than new moms, who are navigating an entirely new existence on every front. If you’re a mother, know a mother, or are working to mother/nurture yourself during this time, I know you will appreciate the perspective and permission Emma brings to be right where you are. - Rachel Lund, Self Space Founder and Therapist
Emma Shandy-Anway
Photo credit: Brandon Hill
Last week I was out walking with my five month old son, Finn, when a stranger commented from across the street about how cute he was. We chatted at a distance about babies, sleepless nights and how fast it all goes by, and then went our separate ways. As soon as I turned the corner of my street I broke down in tears. This short conversation with a kind neighbor triggered the deep grief I feel about navigating my fourth trimester in the time of this global pandemic.
Finn is a rainbow baby, I lost his older sister in a traumatic missed miscarriage, an experience that involved letting go of an endless amount of expectations and hopes. When I found out I was pregnant with Finn, it took me a while but I tentatively allowed myself to dream and plan again.
I saved up thousands of air miles so that I could fly home every few weeks so he could get to know my family, I preemptively joined PEPS, researched stroller strides groups and day dreamed about baby play dates in the parks, and taking him to local coffee shops.
When Finn was born it seemed like all the experiences of matrescence that I had dreamed of were coming true. He met my family in California, got admired at the farmers market, became a new regular at our neighborhood coffee shop and was an adorable member of our mama-baby weekly support group.
Then the quarantine set in.
My support group ended, we cancelled all our flights for the year, everything closed down, and fear set in. It’s now been two months of navigating motherhood in isolation and I am constantly hit with waves of sadness and anger.
The biggest grief being that the new mama experience I dreamt up that was taken from me once before is now being taken away again in a different way.
I am heartbroken that my gorgeous child can’t be cuddled by my parents or friends, that he views people with fear because he doesn’t understand face masks, and that he may spend his entire first year with just his dad and myself. I am angry that the trauma of my miscarriage is resurfacing while I navigate the vulnerability of motherhood in such a lonely place and that the world is showing me just how out of control everything truly is. I know I am not alone in these feelings.
“Globally we are in a season of collective grief. The whole world is grappling with what to do when weddings, graduations, and trips have been cancelled, when life long plans abruptly change. We are trying to navigate unmet expectations, lost jobs and shattered dreams. ”
It can be tempting to distract ourselves away from these realities, to master the art of bread baking, start training for a marathon, or learn a new language. To do anything to avoid the heaviness and the raw pain of what this reality is bringing. The truth is, however, that the more willing we are to feel our grief and rage, the more it will begin to dissipate. When we allow our emotions to move through us we enter into a healing process that no amount of distractions or numbing can provide.
“It is okay to be grieving right now, in fact it is a necessary part of navigating this foreign territory that no one could have anticipated. ”
It is okay to be grieving right now, in fact it is a necessary part of navigating this foreign territory that no one could have anticipated. I encourage you to be as gentle with yourself as you can be. To welcome the tears when they come, and to not be afraid of the anger. Knowing that these emotions, like this pandemic, will not last forever.
I hold onto tendrils of hope knowing that one day in the future my son will be able to play with his uncle, that I will be able to hug my best friend, and host dinner parties in the garden. Until then I will hold my baby close, shed a few tears and continue to take life moment, by moment, by moment.
