Every now and again I google how many days it has been since March 13, when I took everything I needed from my office and told my boss I'd be back in person when all of this was over. At the time, my daughter wasn't even six months old. She was this tiny little precious blob who was just starting to stand and I would try to move the each itself if it meant keeping her safe.
So here I am. 222 days later. Still working from home. Planning a pandemic first birthday party. I do zoom calls while she has a bottle. I schedule remote commission appointments for when my husband is home and can keep her quiet. I do phone calls during naps and answer emails at what feels like every waking minute.
I have somehow managed to patchwork together something of a survivable legal practice while solo-parenting during the day, which feels like at any moment the house of cards is going to come crashing down upon me. My husband cannot work remotely. My income is tied to collections and is too precarious to risk him staying home.
We take everything day by day and I feel almost more worn out than I did when I was answering work emails from the hospital after delivery.
I have spent years writing about law school, lawyering, and the whole mess that happens inbetween. I don't know that anything I have to say these days is terribly salient to anything because something like this has never occurred before.
But here we are. With our dogs barking in the background. Our children demanding attention. And were it not for the internet, I think I would feel so absolutely alone in all of this.
If you feel alone friends, I am here. I am with you. We are in this together.
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