Thirteen months ago today, I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. This was a very good thing. I had been planning and hoping for this for a few years at that point and at 40, it was starting to seem less and less likely to actually happen. I thought I was prepared for it to be just her and I (she was conceived with the help of a sperm donor and a doctor/IUI) but I didn't realize just how alone we would be. Because, as we all know, covid hit right about that time. It also happened that when I was not quite 2 months pregnant, the hospital I had worked at for 10 years went bankrupt and while they were eventually bought out, I didn't make the inevitable cut. (Texas is a right to work state--a nice bit of Orwellian doublespeak that means that you DON'T actually have any right to work. An employer can fire you for any reason--or no reason--they wish, without recourse for you. So if, say, your employer decides to let everyone above a certain paygrade go, that's entirely within their purview).
Two weeks after getting the boot, my state shut down because of Covid. I managed to get exactly 2 interviews in before that. Both called to let me know that while they liked me as a potential employee, they'd been put on hiring freezes until the covid lockdown/the financial strains caused by said lockdown lifted.
That's how I found myself pregnant, jobless (with zero-job hopes), and quarantined away from anyone and everyone I had expected to be with me during my pregnancy. Not a great time to be uber-hormonal, just saying. :p
After years of careful planning, absolutely nothing was going to plan. This is not something that planning types like myself enjoy.
Thankfully, I did finally get a job (though, covid is still very much with us here in Texas). I was actually sitting in my car at the hospital, waiting to get my pre-baby-delivery covid test that would determine if I got to have anyone in the room with me when K was born or if I was going to have to do that part alone too when my phone rang. It was one of those first people I had interviewed with back in February (it was now September), offering me a job. I gratefully accepted, even though it meant that my maternity leave would be only what time it took between K being born (which would happen 3 days later) and all my pre-employment screenings to clear. (I ended up getting about two and a half weeks post emergent c-section--another long story I'd rather just forget--before starting back on 10 hr shifts. Isn't the American system just the best!?!?).
*Deep breath* K is now almost 5 months old and I'm finally starting to feel like I'm getting my head back above water. I wouldn't even be close to here if it weren't for the AMAZING help of some absolutely wonderful ex-coworkers turned dear friends who made sure K and I had everything we needed, even if it meant leaving it by the door and honking hello from the driveway. One of these days, I WILL get her nursery put together. (Didn't seem wise when I didn't know when--or where--I would work again). My goal it to do it before she is old enough to help me move the furniture. *grins*
So here is to 2021. We've got no where to go but up.