This March has made me nostalgic.
It marks the one year birthday of my youngest child and it’s also making me think about myself as a parent three years ago, when the world seized entirely.
The following is an op-ed of mine from Sault This Week that appeared a little over a year ago (with some slight edits).
Although I’m in my element doing deep dives into data, this personal reflection resonated with more than a few people in Northern Ontario, who reached out with appreciation and tales of their own parenting challenges and successes.
This one is for all the parents (and grandparents and great-grandparents) out there.
It’s pretty hard to point to a single positive thing that could be said about the pandemic.
Millions of people have lost their lives worldwide.
We’ve spent several months shuttered away from human connections that make our lives meaningful.
Everyone’s physical and mental health has suffered.
Nothing is predictable and even the most mundane tasks are rife with new anxieties.
Just when we thought that the light was at the end of the tunnel and we could all enjoy a well-deserved and safe holiday break, things dramatically crumbled again as we added another word to our vocabulary: omicron.
But one shouldn’t complain too much.
We actually have it pretty good here compared to what’s happened (or is happening) around the world.
Even though our public officials sometimes seem like they’re just making it up as they go along, we’re the beneficiaries of privileges that much of the world can only dream about.
In reflecting upon the past few years, there’s probably only one thing for which I’m likely to be grateful with hindsight.
Paradoxically, it’s simultaneously the best and worst thing about the pandemic: raising children.
The downsides are obvious.
Every single person I know who has children, especially school-aged children, is being pushed to their mental and physical limits right now.
It’s clear that wide swathes of our youth are not thriving in this brave new world.
Some teachers are pretending to teach and many students are pretending to learn. The unpredictability associated with outbreaks and subsequent school closures means that parents are always anxiously awaiting the next challenge around the corner.
What’s not so obvious is that children have also been an immense source of escape and reprieve during the pandemic.
My own experience, in addition to anecdotal experiences from other parents, leads me to believe that in some circumstances the pandemic has actually allowed for deeper connections with our children.
My eldest child was just shy of two-years-old in March of 2020, the month that things started to unravel in Canada.
In my opinion, two-years-old is the best age to weather a global pandemic.
It means being old enough to have intense curiosity and a longing for adventure, but not quite old enough to seriously grapple with world events.
When daycares shuttered, my flexibility as a graduate student meant that I became a stay-at-home parent overnight.
This part is unremarkable.
I was merely doing what countless others (overwhelming mothers) already do, usually without compensation or much societal value placed upon their care labour.
The remarkable part was that I still needed to work if I was going to finish my graduate degree in a reasonable amount of time. Most of our friends and all of our family were several provinces away.
Because my academic work already included keeping a close eye on the news headlines, I was predisposed to pandemic-related anxieties.
Obsessively following the news during the first waves might have provided some clues about where we were headed, but one can be easily overwhelmed by unending doom and gloom.
The best antidote for me was the almost daily adventures through Edmonton’s vast river valley with my daughter.
While evenings were reserved for marathon research and writing sessions, those spring and summer days were filled with outdoor explorations that provided both of us with much-needed natural immersion, blissful ignorance amid complete chaos.
Ironically, not knowing if or when normality would return meant a much greater appreciation of the everyday.
For parents who work outside of the home, the first year or so of your child’s life typically comes to a quick and unceremonious end. The transition into daycare entails seeing your child only for a few hours each day when your previous days would completely revolve around your child’s care.
The pandemic therefore provided me with an opportunity that I never would have experienced otherwise.
During some of the most formative years of my child’s life, I was able to be as present as possible.
The time was obviously fraught with the uncertainty still swirling all around us, but it’s something for which I’ll be eternally grateful.
I hope this means that in decades from now, when I’m reminiscing about our previous pandemic woes, I won’t think about a non-existent social life, endlessly staring at screens, or agonizing about whether or not I should travel.
I’ll probably think about how, despite some incredible challenges, I was able to forge a closer relationship with someone who eventually grew into an impressive adult.
In the long arc of history, the pandemic is just a temporary inconvenience.
Once the global community has built up sufficient immunity, there’s always the next virus to worry about, plus climate change, income inequality, and the opioid epidemic.
My children will inherit a world markedly different than my own and probably not in a good way.
Nonetheless, I’m pretty confident that the next generation will get through the pandemic relatively unscathed.
They just need a bit of extra help to do it.