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My baby will be 6 months old tomorrow. 6 months that have changed our lives. 6 months in which the world that we thought we were bringing her in to has changed irrevocably.
When she was a newborn, I would watch the news and see our nation devoured by bushfires. The air in Sydney became unsafe for her tiny lungs and people on the street started wearing masks. It felt new, this fear of the invisible, of micro particles in the air that could cause so much damage. The smoke finally did dissipate, the fires were put out, but the masks remained. A new threat, once again invisible, but this time a virus. I began to feel nervous of every friendly interaction, scared of every passerby who would stop to peer into the pram at the little girl who was growing chubbier each week.
One day over the clatter of a busy cafe I was complaining to a friend about having to cancel our overseas trip - the one we were taking our daughter to meet her grandparents. The next day, things began to lock down.
My husband brought home his computer from work and set up in our bedroom.
Over the past few weeks we have been encased in our own little family cocoon. And in that space, our little girl has thrived. From rolling around the living room floor, to trying her first foods - banana (a winner) and peas (definitely not). These are the images of lockdown that I will remember. While the threat of being made redundant looms in the background and video calls can't make up for the lost hugs from grandparents, watching our baby grow has turned a time of anguish and uncertainty into one of discovery and of hope.
When she was a newborn, I would watch the news and see our nation devoured by bushfires. The air in Sydney became unsafe for her tiny lungs and people on the street started wearing masks. It felt new, this fear of the invisible, of micro particles in the air that could cause so much damage. The smoke finally did dissipate, the fires were put out, but the masks remained. A new threat, once again invisible, but this time a virus. I began to feel nervous of every friendly interaction, scared of every passerby who would stop to peer into the pram at the little girl who was growing chubbier each week.
One day over the clatter of a busy cafe I was complaining to a friend about having to cancel our overseas trip - the one we were taking our daughter to meet her grandparents. The next day, things began to lock down.
My husband brought home his computer from work and set up in our bedroom.
Over the past few weeks we have been encased in our own little family cocoon. And in that space, our little girl has thrived. From rolling around the living room floor, to trying her first foods - banana (a winner) and peas (definitely not). These are the images of lockdown that I will remember. While the threat of being made redundant looms in the background and video calls can't make up for the lost hugs from grandparents, watching our baby grow has turned a time of anguish and uncertainty into one of discovery and of hope.