Guest Post: Pregnancy and Postpartum Isolation (Pandemic Edition)
The following guest post is by Sarah Ghani, a relatively recent addition to Calgary. The following post has been edited for stylistic consistency, with the author’s permission. Photo by Mim Fatmi.
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Let me start by saying that being pregnant during a pandemic was not the plan. Funnily enough, both my pregnancy and this widespread disease require a merging of cells. As a strain of bat coronavirus merged with human cells somewhere in Wuhan, so did the male and female gametes of two happily married individuals in Calgary (cringe, I know). Unbeknownst to both byproducts, the combination of the two would redefine the word isolation for this run-of-the-mill Pakistani-Canadian who found out she was pregnant in the midst of a global pandemic.
March 2020
“Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear” is what I kept reminding myself, as I wiped my Costco grocery cart for a third time while looking for halal chicken. It was the day after I found out I was expecting, and my thoughts were racing. I wasn’t sure if the news of lockdowns, masks and increased cases was nauseating, or it was just my surging hormones. Would my mom be allowed to come for the delivery? What if the hospital I deliver in has a bunch of COVID-19 cases? What if I contract the virus and something happens to my baby? It’s hard enough to handle pregnancy as a new-time mom, let alone the uncharted territory that is this virus. Add working as a healthcare provider to the mix and you’ve concocted a special blend of pandemic-pregnancy-anxiety.
June 2020
Fast forward three months; I can no longer stomach chicken. Masks have become mandatory in my workplace and morning sickness makes the entire experience very special (screw you, anti-maskers). I’ve decided to opt out of giving injections at work in an attempt to create a “safe bubble”. Many pregnancy firsts no longer apply to me. Every doctor’s visit feels like I’m rolling the dice on whether I’ll contract The Rona or not. I go to my first ultrasound alone, while bars and clubs in Alberta remain open. Most prenatal classes, an experience where I would’ve enjoyed meeting other new moms, become virtual. Gyms are closed, although let’s be honest, would I have really gone? The reality of the pandemic has set in, but navigating through these limitations while pregnant is challenging.
October 2020
Despite how depressing I’m making pregnancy sound, I had a fairly smooth first and second trimester (alhumdullilah). My third, however, was a tumultuous time. Long story semi-short, I ended up with gestational diabetes, developed pre-eclampsia and had an emergency C-section at 31 weeks gestation while visiting my parents in Saskatchewan. Because I was from Calgary, every single hospital employee had to gown-up in a yellow spacesuit before seeing me because I was “high-risk”. I was only allowed two support persons, and when my son was born, I had to gown-up myself in the aforementioned spacesuit to see him. No skin-to-skin, no other visitors besides my husband and me, and lots and lots of gowning and de-gowning in and out of the NICU.
November 2020
When the dust finally settled as I began to process the emergency C-section, the premature baby, and the entire separate universe that is motherhood, you can deduce by now that postpartum anxiety came as a package deal. As a preemie mom in a pandemic, actively choosing to isolate myself to protect my baby was not an easy hurdle to overcome. As a social person, I thrive off interactions; and not being able to have coffee with a friend to complain about the discrepancies in South Asian culture and how boys are dumb really takes a toll on your girl. You’re trying to figure it all out with limited support (I love you, mom). You fear leaving the house in case you somehow bring the virus home. Your extended family and friends can’t see your baby and tell you how cute he is in person. You disinfect everything, all the time. It can get very lonely, very fast.
January 2021
But somehow, you persevere. You get through it one breath at a time, one text from a friend at a time, one doctor’s phone call at a time, one prayer at a time. It comes in waves yet slowly, but surely, the fog dissipates and you emerge from it stronger than the woman you were a year ago. If there is anything I’ve retained from this experience, it’s that a solid support system is crucial to pregnancy and postpartum survival and that–pandemic or not–it is going to challenge you, humble you, and change you forever.
— Sarah Ghani