One Year.

It’s February 21st, 2020 - The first Covid-19 case in Sacramento is confirmed. Someone who had visited Wuhan China in recent weeks. It’s HERE, but it still feels so far away.

It’s March 4th, 2020 - I’m sitting on Amtrak on what I didn’t know would be the last time for over a year...headed to San Francisco to see The Last Ship. Someone a few seats over coughs. I’m already a germaphobe in flu season but ominous news coverage of the virus made me extra anxious and I silently willed the person to stop. We arrive, do SF Ross, get lunch, take our usual sweaty theater program selfie. It was an odd show, but cool to see Sting in person. And no matter - I was set to see both Hamilton (again)  and Book of Mormon (again) later that month…or so I thought…

It’s March 6th, 2020 - Sitting in a circle with 35 moms and babies, Helen comes to demo kindermusik and we laugh about how people are hoarding toilet paper and selling hand sanitizer for $400.

It’s March 8th, 2020 - Ana and I host our Spring Equinox Amba gathering. Not knowing that having it a few weeks early would mean the difference between having it and not having it at all…

It’s March 11th, 2020 - The WHO declares Covid a Pandemic. Bay Area schools are shut down and we all speculate when and if that will trickle up to Sac.

It’s March 16th, 2020 - Bay Area Shelter in Place begins. I teach my first all Zoom prenatal yoga class. It feels so empty in the big room. Clare’s school is cancelled for “up to 3 weeks.” 

It’s March 19th, 2020 - All of California follows suit with shelter in place. This feels surreal. But temporary.  

It’s March 31st, 2020 - My friend Alex does Zumba online and I feel relief in the midst of the chaos to revisit something that brought me so much joy. We all speculate on whether the kids will get to go back to school after spring break. I am sad that this is the day Marcie and I were supposed to take Nataly to Book of Mormon in SF.

It’s April 2nd, 2020 - We get the email that the entire 2020 Music Circus Season is cancelled.  I almost throw my phone at the wall and immediately text Marcie.  I feel the joy of this year slipping through my fingers.

It’s the rest of April 2020 - Buggie turns 2, and my brother turns 30.  I reflect on the year that has passed since Nicole’s suicide. Bernie drops out of the presidential race. These two months seem to have stretched on for eternity already.  The girls take Zoom dance classes and Zoom music classes and Clare continues Zoom Kindergarten.  I complete my Birth Story Medicine winter semester training, forever bonded to these 9 women from 5 different countries and 4 different states as we all connected as the pandemic was unfolding.  

It’s May 3rd, 2020 - I hit a wall and have my first of many meltdowns to come. I let myself just sit in the river of the grief of it all. All of the loss I am experiencing, my kids are experiencing, that my community of prenatal and postpartum families are experiencing and the loss that the collective is experiencing. The fear for my livelihood and calling and passion being in jeopardy the longer this goes on. The loss of connection that I rely so heavily on. The fear of where our country will be this time next year. Especially if it’s still being led by this sad excuse of a leader. The fact that I don’t get to hug my parents or hold my friends’ new babies. It all just came out. Chris, bless his heart my left-brained analytical husband, isn’t always sure what to do with that, especially when he wants to fix it, and he can’t. And I can’t sit and cry and hug my girlfriends or even my mom during this. He finally just said “It’s going to be a really shit year.”

It’s May 13th, 2020 - I launch the studio’s Patreon account - and thank GOD for this. It’s kept us going this last year and created a really sweet community of parents.

It’s May 25th, 2020 - We all watch as George Floyd is murdered in cold blood as an officer kneels on his neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. We are collectively sick, outraged and numb. But this time, it seems more are listening, more are caring, more are wanting to take action. The crossroads of us all being locked in our houses and watching these atrocities collectively wakes up so many of us to the reality of white supremacy and the reality of our own complicity of being bathed in the culture. 

It’s May 27th, 2020 - Clare graduates Kindergarten in a drive-by ceremony where her masked teacher hands her a bag of school work via stick into the car.  

It’s June 1st, 2020 - The city-wide curfew goes into effect along with many others, because of the protests erupting across the country in the cultural reckoning over George Floyd’s murder.  The national guard is called in and armored vehicles patrol the streets of Sacramento. I’m unsure if I’m allowed to go to the studio to teach my class so I opt to teach from my living room while the girls play out back with the sitter.  

It’s June 5th, 2020 - We celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary and it looked like take-out, watching Sesame Street’s town hall on racism with the girls, Gunther’s, flowers left by my parents, a lot of me working and both of our exhaustion and saying here’s hoping when our 15th rolls around, we are on a beach somewhere. Oh yeah and I fell through a rotten board in the deck and my leg looks like someone tried to do a botched surgery on it (still a week later) We were supposed to be seeing Spamilton the Hamilton parody in SF...but of course 2020 has had so many other plans... 

It’s June 6th, 2020 - Today and over the ensuing few days - I watch a mass exodus of some of my most beloved teachers leave Zuda Yoga. While I had been fringe of the community for the last year and half since The Root was born and had been particularly disturbed by how they had handled the pandemic thus far,,I find all of the hundreds of comments on the social media posts trigger some re-traumatization, sadness, guilt and emotions that I didn’t know I could still feel about that place and the time in which it was such a huge part of my life...I spent may days and weeks in conversation with friends, acquaintances and former teachers and googling things like “Healing from a Cult.” Even as I look back now, I think complicated feelings will always arise around that place. A lot of Both/And. 

It’s June 16th, 2020 - I get my first covid haircut.   We are allowed to reopen at the studio for hybrid classes.  It doesn’t seem possible, but it’s even weirder trying to teach to live people AND people on the screen at the same time. 

It’s June 27th, 2020 - Clare did outdoor camps at Fairytale Town and she had so much fun just being able to be with other kids.  FTT does such a good job and they had an entire summer worth of camps without a single covid case.

(This was pre-the mask order. But as soon as that was mandated they were super diligent with them!)

It’s July 3rd, 2020 - We venture out and take a very quick and socially distanced trip to Monterey.  It’s cold, but being at the ocean feels good for the soul. 

It’s July 5th, 2020 - Marcie and I get together 20 feet apart with masks to watch Hamilton on the projector at the studio.  It reminds me what joy is. 

It’s July 13th, 2020 -  The latest order from Gov. Newsom pushes the studio closed again for indoor operations of fitness classes.  We move to outdoor. We move class later to beat the heat.  We pivot again. AGAIN.

It’s the rest of July 2020 - We buy a loft bed so that we can set Clare up for distance learning….under the bed.  We do weekly outside playdates with our pod-family, the Maddux family. Clare calls them our virus family. This constant helps the pandemic feel less overwhelming. Those slow summer Saturdays keep me grounded.  

It’s August 7th, 2020 -  I sob through most of our Amba Moon Zoom class after a week of watching the group of birth workers I was a part of for many years implode. I make the hard decision that I can’t put my name to a group who doesn’t go far enough in their support of social justice issues, where no one would own leadership roles and where many members believe and support Conspirtuality theories, putting clients at risk.  More loss. More grief.

It’s August 15th, 2020 - We pivot our weekend trip last minute because it’s going to be too hot in the Redwoods….planning then to go to San Francisco.  Little did we know that all of the Lighting Complex fires would hit the next day, covering most of California in smoke and fire. We spend the next month obsessively checking the air quality index daily to see if outdoor activities are possible.  Most days they aren’t. 

It’s September 1st, 2020 - We find out that without funding, on October 12th, Amtrak will be cutting nearly 400 jobs nationwide and that something will be changing for Chris’s schedule. The not knowing, not being able to plan is the hardest.

It’s September 13th, 2020 - Football is back.  That, the air quality getting better and the hint of Fall feel like hope. 

It’s September 18th, 2020 - RGB is dead. Anger.  Grief. But also action.  Getting out the vote in any way possible hits a fever pitch. Postcards, Calls, Text Banking. Trump cannot win again.

It’s September 19th, 2020 - Chris has to do the floss trick to get my rings off my swollen fingers. The latest in odd symptoms I’ve been having all summer. 

It’s September 24th, 2020 - I get to see my primary care doctor and she is amazing and sends out for a zillion tests to figure out what’s going on with my health.  I am apprehensive but grateful to be feeling heard.  

It’s September 29th, 2020 - I find myself crying on the floor of my office and call my best friend Emma from high school to talk me up off the floor. It seems that I have one of these meltdowns every few months.  The stress, the health symptoms, the worry about the studio. It threatens to engulf me.   

It’s October 1st, 2020 - We are allowed to have indoor/hybrid classes again. Only lasting a little over a month before we spike again at the beginning of November, returning to purple tier.  My anger and angst and anti-maskers and conspirtualists intensifies.  My fervor of political engagement continues.

It’s October 2nd, 2020 - Trump tests positive for Covid.  We all wonder if this nightmare will end with him dying from it.  He recovers. And is worse than ever for this last leg of the election cycle. 

It’s October 11th, 2020 - We take distance learning on the road and take our Redwoods trip that had earlier been rescheduled. There are some nice moments and nature is always good, but it’s mostly a shit show of screaming kids in a no-so-kid-friendly airbnb.  I try to watch the vice presidential debate over the screaming.  We eat really good sushi take out and the kids enjoy seeing the Ocean and Redwoods.

It’s October 16th, 2020 - Due to Amtrak cuts, It’s Chris’s first time being gone from Friday all the way through Tuesday without coming home on Sundays...it’s amazing how much that one bit of being home on Sundays mattered for all of our sanity.

It’s October 26th, 2020 - Our lovely babysitter that we’ve had since mid-pandemic has to move home to Oregon to be closer to family.  I cried on her last night.  More loss. More grief. More change.

It’s October 27th, 2020 - Amy Coney Barrett is sworn in as RBG’s replacement.  I feel sick and sad and scared for what this will do to my daughters’ reproductive rights. 

It’s October 31st, 2020 - We built Clare a candy shoot to pass out candy to trick-or-treaters. We have a fire pit and the kids enjoy themselves as much as they can in this upside down year. I will never forget Clare hitting my friend Candace’s kid in the face with candy because it went down the shoot too fast. Us all laughing at the absurdity. At what normal has become. 

It’s November 3rd, 2020 - I feel sick watching the election returns come in. We knew it wasn’t going to be a done deal on election night, but it feels like a gut punch to see that so many people voted for that monster. My heart wanted a landslide. 

It’s November 7th, 2020 - 8:30am.  My phone is blowing up.  Biden is officially called as President Elect.  Joy. Relief. Celebration of harm reduction.  My girls dance around to “Celebration” in front of CNN on the TV. We celebrate with Hot Chocolate. 

It’s November 17th, 2020 - As cases start to rise, I panic buy another giant box of toilet paper for the studio.  The same box I bought back in March. 

It’s November 25th, 2020 - We watch a live stream of the Tree Lighting in Old Sac.  The first year in 6 years that we aren’t downtown seeing Theater of Lights.  Another little loss.  

It’s November 28th, 2020 - My mom and I take the girls to their first drive-in movie to see The Santa Clause.  During the movie I get an alert from my Sutter app that I had a 2nd marker come back abnormal in this 4th round of blood tests.  It feels like proof something is wrong, but I’m also scared.

It’s December 6th, 2020 - Jillian and I host a Cardboard Santa and caroling event at the studio.  It’s weird, but it’s also joyful in this strange holiday season. 

It’s December 11th, 2020 - I miraculously get in to see the Rheumatologist. As soon as she starts touching my joints - she confirms my suspicion - Seronegative Rheumatoid Arthritis. We decide to do a month long prednisone taper to see if that helps to confirm diagnosis.  It does.  I spend many hours down google rabbit holes and support groups. Learning all that I can about rheumatoid disease.  This is also the day the first covid-19 vaccine is approved for emergency use. 

It’s December 17th, 2020 - This week I find out that two close friends are having miscarriages, a client had a stillbirth, another friend is breaking off a 10 year relationship and one of my best friend’s family all has Covid.  I wonder how much more loss can possibly hit those that I love before 2020 closes out. 

It’s December 20-21st, 2020 - One of my pandemic coping mechanisms has been being very extra about the holidays.  We celebrate Mother’s Night with my mom and Winter Solstice with a living room solstice spiral.  It feel sweet, but also sad because Chris is gone.  

It’s December 24-25th, 2020 - It’s the first year since Clare was a baby that Chris is home for both Christmas eve and Christmas day.  We have a lovely two days of baking, eating and watching movies.

It’s December 31st, 2020 - Even though we know turning the page on this year won’t suddenly make it all better, there is hope in the new year. The fresh start. 

It’s January 5th, 2021 -  I turn 33 and feel loved by friends stopping by for a drive-thru Birthday.  Though, between all of the calls from Trumpers on election fraud, the unknowns of this newly diagnosed rheumatoid disease and fears about the studio’s survival set me on edge.  I tell people all I want for my birthday is for the senate to go blue.  I ask my dad to check the news while we are sitting around the firepit.

It’s January 6th, 2021 - It’s 11:30am. I am finishing up my lesson call for Tiffany Han’s RYHSY inner circle. In the back of my mind, I know they are certifying election results today, but I’m not really thinking about it. My phone starts blowing up. My mom - are you watching this?  Ana - Photos, incredulous. Texting Chris at home. Putting on NPR while I prep to teach yoga and do a birth story session.  Multiple group texts.  IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?    AP calls Georgia for Ossoff that afternoon.  Congress returns to count the votes.  After everything during this year - we are left in a surreal state yet again.

It’s January 13th, 2021 - Trump is impeached for a 2nd time by the House.

It’s January 20th, 2021 - Chris and I sit on the couch at the studio, watching the end of the inauguration address on his phone while Clare does distance learning in the other room.  Is this Trump nightmare finally over.  I think of all the QAnon supporters staring at their phones in disbelief, their hopes dashed. 

It’s February 2nd, 2021 - I get my first Pfizer vaccine.  I feel emotional. Nervous. Relief. 

It’s February 7th, 2021 - We go to Fairytale Town for the first time 4 months.  It feels like hope.

It’s February 9th, 2021 - I break out in a huge rash an hour after I take my RA med.  Sending me spiraling into more despair over this disease, my health, the state of the world.  I get in to see the Rheumatologist on video the next day and we make a plan to stop the med for a bit and restart challenging it 2 weeks after my second Covid shot. I’m still anxious and frustrated, but having a plan feels like something.

It’s February 12th, 2021 - Puffy cat turns 10 years old. I reflect on these 10 years.  10 years of Amtrak for Chris. 10 years since I finished college. 

It’s February 14th, 2021 - I’m in the worst RA pain flare since this began. I can’t type, I can’t pick things up.  Chris is supposed to be gone till Tuesday. On Monday we find out that due to weather, he’s stuck for two extra days. Nataly comes over on Monday and does my dishes.  An angel mom/friend from the studio who has supported me so much this year sends me a $100 Door Dash gift card.  The kindness of people overwhelms me with emotion. 

It’s February 19th, 2021 - Clare turns 7.  We celebrate with a drive by outdoor birthday and I am so grateful to see her joy and resilience with such a very different looking birthday this year.  It’s my last day of a 7-day prednisone dose and after two hours on my feet, I want to crawl in bed and cry. 

It’s February 21st, 2021 - Chris takes some vacation time after the shit week we’ve had and he and I go for floats and breakfast.  I start to feel my emotions break as we are sitting in the car eating our take out.  Right on cue, every few months the grief of it all hits me like a wave.  I miss my friends. Like REALLY seeing them, laughing, joyful.  Without the tinged anxiety and fear of the virus hanging over our masked and distanced faces. I cry because I miss FUN.  Concerts, musicals.  I miss Chris being home. We are going on 4 ½ months of this current schedule, parenting more in silos than we ever have before.  I cry because the girls are hard.  I cry because I’m worried about the studio. I cry because it’s been a YEAR.

It’s February 22nd, 2021 -  The US surpasses 500,000 deaths. Nearly as many Americans have now died from Covid-19 as were killed in World War I and II and Vietnam COMBINED.  Despite these horrific numbers, the drop in cases, the spring weather, I feel a tinge of hope.  Hope and Grief wage a battle in my head daily.

It’s February 23rd, 2021 - I receive my 2nd Covid-19 Vaccine.  I didn’t realize how emotional it would make me. Hope, relief and tears threaten to overwhelm me as I drive to the hospital. I didn’t realize how much I was carrying the weight. To know that now if I get Covid it’s SO much more likely I won’t get seriously ill or die now. I realized as I was parking that I was about 20 feet from the labyrinth we walked 2 summers ago at the completion of the Crossing the Threshold Birthing From Within Training. Labyrinths are a big part of Birthing from Within and we teach about how our birth and postpartum experiences can mirror the labyrinth journey. I’d forgotten how long this one was and walking toward the center with my newly minted Covid Vaccine sticker badge, I reflected on the journey throughout this last year. And the thing is, once you get to the center, you still have to come back out. Getting this shot felt like reaching the center. And now to step back through the Labyrinth - changed irrevocably by this last year - we make our way towards whatever awaits us as the new normal. With patience knowing how long and how MUCH it took to get to the center, cannot be undone and erased, but one step and a time we all take our time walking towards to way out.