This post deals with miscarriage and may be triggering for some readers.
I don’t cry much. I think the last time I cried was February, maybe March. I am a closed-book, deep-feeler and over-thinker. But not a crier.
But today I cried.
I cried because Sydney’s lockdown was extended by another fortnight. With, realistically, more time coming after that.
I cried because my two-year-old son has observed me carrying a mask in my pocket for trips outside the house, and so now he asks for a mask in his pocket, like mummy.
I cried because he brought me his swimmers and asked why we can't go to lessons. Why can't we play at the park with the other kids? Why do we stay in our small living room all by ourselves? He stands at the door and says "please, mummy, go?"
I cried because I asked for a local takeaway recommendation in a community Facebook group so I could support small, and was touched by the outpouring of rave reviews from helpful strangers for little eateries who desperately needed the business.
I cried because I saw a Facebook post from a single mother who had lost her job and had no money to care for her child who was offering to pick up groceries or other essentials for $10.
I cried for the baby I lost a few months ago, because I didn't cry about it back then. Back then I felt hopeful about the months that laid ahead, sure I’d fall pregnant with the fertility plan my doctor had put in place. Back then I felt like I’d fall pregnant soon and the worst of it would be not drinking at all the lovely social engagements I had in the diary for winter.
I most definitely cried thanks to the prescription fertility drug I took right before lockdown, which when paired with ovulation tracking would be my best shot at a baby. But ovulation tracking was cancelled as it’s not deemed an essential service. But going to IKEA is.
I cried thinking of all my smart, hard working friends with small businesses in the hospitality and service industry that are literally riddled with anxiety to the point they are physically unwell. Their business models can’t pivot and they don't know how they will pay their bills and support their family.