Hello everyone! Today I’m sharing a little bit more of a personal post. Our family recently welcomed its newest member: Baby Juliet.

Everyone is currently happy and healthy at home, but I wanted to share more about my experience giving birth during a pandemic-induced quarantine. Having had my first daughter just two years prior, I thought I knew what to expect. But there were a few things specific to this year’s pandemic protocols that made a big difference to me. I apologize in advance, as this post is a little long, but I wanted to document all the details that I could remember. I also want to note that even in the Seattle area, different hospitals have different rules. So this post is not to tell any pregnant readers what their experience will be like. I just wanted to share how things felt from my perspective.

The Day of Delivery

I had been having contractions on and off for 3-4 days already when I woke up at 3:30 AM with an extra strong one. I rolled over to my phone to log the time of the contraction, trying to exhale out the pain without waking Jeremy. But half an hour later, I shook Jeremy out of bed and told him to start getting ready.

Look at this handy dandy contraction timer from the Ovia pregnancy app!

A phone call to my dad to have him come stay at the house to watch Jemma, a few last minute toiletries thrown into the hospital bag, and quite a few labored breathing exercises later, we left for the hospital. Luckily, we live only 10 minutes away, but still I was gripping the door handle so hard with each contraction, I was ready to rip it off by the time we got there.

At the Childbirth Center

Upon arrival at the hospital, we donned our masks, and walked to the front desk of the childbirth center. They took our temperatures and made me sign some papers, my hand shaking as I tried to act normal through the contractions. Waiting for the nurse to come get us felt like a million years, with me bracing my entire body on Jeremy as I pushed through some more pain.

The night charge nurse checked my cervix and thankfully, I was in labor enough to admit me to my labor and delivery room. I requested an epidural immediately, and while that got ready, a nurse came in to test me for COVID. Nasal swab went in and test results came back in 90 minutes. Negative! Apparently only the mothers needed to get tested, assuming their partners are in close enough contact to have the same status.

Once it’s just me, Jeremy, and my assigned nurse in the room, I’m allowed to take my mask off, since I’m COVID negative. I’m not sure what the protocol would have been if I was positive, but I do know that I was allowed one other support person in the room with me besides Jeremy. I had no intention of having anyone else there with me anyway, so it didn’t affect me much, but if you wanted a doula and a bunch of relatives in there with you, that would’ve been a problem.

At 10:30 it was time to push. The mask had to go back on as my OB and a few other nurses crammed back into the room. Thankfully, I only needed to push for about 10 minutes, and out popped a baby! My mom had to push for three hours EACH with me and my brother… I can’t imagine doing that with a mask on.

Moving to the Mom and Baby Suite

After the baby was born and all the necessary medical followup procedures were done, I was ready to be moved to the postpartum recovery room. This is where I started feeling the biggest effects of the pandemic protocols. Here, I was only allowed one visitor. That meant Jemma couldn’t come see her sister (or me) in the hospital. We had been told this ahead of time, so we were expecting it. However, what we didn’t realize was that the rule was not just one visitor at a time. It was one visitor TOTAL. So that makes Jeremy my one visitor. Still, I thought, not a HUGE deal. The only people who I would really expect to come were my parents, who were out of state for the first time I had a baby. Plus, after a vaginal birth with no complications, I was supposed to only be there one night.

Expect the Unexpected

Well, unfortunately when you have a small baby, they have to go through some extra tests. One of those tests is to ensure that they can maintain their oxygen levels in the car seat, and Juliet could not. That meant we needed to stay an extra 24 hours before she could get tested again.

Now if this had been the first time around, I would’ve been happy to stay an extra day. That’s a whole extra day of nurses changing all my baby’s diapers and free food (our insurance covers it all and the food is actually pretty good).

BUT, with the COVID-19 rules and having another child at home, the news hit me a lot differently. To be honest, I burst into tears. I had not seen my 2-year-old in almost 48 hours. Until that moment, I had never been away from her for even one night. She couldn’t come see me, and while Jeremy was allowed to go home to see her and come back, I could not. And then during the times that he was gone, I was alone, because I wasn’t allowed to have any other visitors.

To their credit, the nurses and doctors were extremely empathetic. They went out of their way to try and find other ways that we could get Juliet retested and discharged before waiting another 24 hours. They even mentioned that technically, we could take our baby and leave against medical advice and they wouldn’t be able to stop us. Ultimately, we decided that we needed to prioritize Juliet’s safety so we agreed to stay the extra 24 hours. Jeremy went home to grab some extra things and spend some time with Jemma, and I sat in my hospital room by myself, trying to keep it together.

“This isn’t a prison!”

One nurse kept telling us, “This isn’t a prison! You’re allowed to leave.” But in reality, that’s exactly what it felt like. By the time we ended up leaving the next day, I hadn’t had fresh air or been outside in two days. I hadn’t even walked more than 10 steps. I hadn’t seen anyone besides nurses, doctors, and Jeremy.

The first time I gave birth, I was at least able to see familiar faces. I could walk the hallways with my baby just to move around. This time, I kept feeling like I was trapped.

Other small differences had a big emotional impact as well. For example, typically at our hospital a professional photographer will come around on the second day, taking photos of the newborn baby and the entire family together, which you can opt to purchase. This time, of course, that wasn’t available. I’m sure other parents wouldn’t think it’s a big deal, but when I looked at Jemma’s photos from the hospital, I got sad thinking that Juliet didn’t get the same opportunity. I felt that the world met Jemma’s birth with joy and celebration. Juliet’s birth received anxiety and caution.

To their credit, I felt that this time the nurses went out of their way to show kindness. When one nurse walked in our room and saw Juliet resting on me like this, she said, “Oh how cute! Let me take a photo for you.”

That lump of blankets in the back is Jeremy.

Another gave us this neat photo op of Juliet’s first bath.

Were they purposefully trying to make up for all the restrictions? I don’t know, but I know that I felt cared for.

Where are they now?

It’s been over a month already, and we’re starting to settle into routines at home. Overall, there are some silver linings. Because he’s working from home, Jeremy now gets to see so much more of Juliet growing up than he did with Jemma.

Still, the small things sometimes catch up to me. Our friends can’t hold our baby or give us company. We can’t take short outings to the mall, like we did with Jemma. Even going out to run errands takes careful planning. Whenever we think of getting out of the house, I always have to ask myself, “Is it safe?”

When I start feeling overwhelmed, I hold on to the hope that one day quarantine will no longer be necessary. And for now, I will try be grateful for the time that I have with my family and alllll the extra baby snuggles.