“The questions have levelled up to some insightful dilemmas, too. “Mama, why did Lowly worm have to save Sea Captain Tilly from drowning? She’s a hippo!””
Empathy and compassion and love are not easy when it means that our own comfort is in jeopardy, but that’s what makes life richer. PHOTO BY MATHYAS KURMANN on UNSPLASH
October 21, 2021
I have always loved to read. Lately, I have been appreciating this special gift as I start to read more interesting books to my children. Leveling up to actual stories feels like quite an achievement as we move beyond short, punchy sentences.
When you have been stuck behind books that count to 10 or describe colourful pictures like something big and blue, it seems like something to celebrate when you can see Edward Bear bumping down the staircase in your child’s imagination. We’ve moved from ‘shiny train’ to all the amazing fishes in McElligot’s pool and Nutkin’s brush with Old Brown.
The questions have levelled-up to some insightful dilemmas, too. “Mama, why did Lowly worm have to save Sea Captain Tilly from drowning? She’s a hippo!”
Bet you never thought of that, Mr Richard Scarry.
Reading Is Such an Adventure, Isn’t It?
One of my adult reads was a classic that included the quote from Atticus, the father in Harper Lee’s How to Kill a Mockingbird. He told his feisty daughter not to judge another person until she had a chance to ‘…climb into his skin and walk around in it.’
I have also seen this empathy echoed in my son’s little stories and it opens doors to some hard conversations. Why should Grandma Tildy take the elephant in from the cold when it will eat all her winter rations and break through her old floorboards?
Why, indeed.
Walking Around in Other People’s Shoes Isn’t Always Comfortable
Empathy and compassion and love are not easy when it means that our own comfort is in jeopardy, but that’s what makes life richer.
Is someone you know pushing against the vaccine? Walk around in their skin a little more to understand why.
Are you angry that someone you’re close to is not yet registered to vote? Delve deeper, but do it gently.
Your choices are not your neighbour’s but we are all happier when there are dialogues, open questions, and kindness enough to see it from another angle.
If we disagree, we are human. If we still remain friends, we are better humans.
A Little Compassion Can Change a Life – Your Own Included
I don’t know why Grandma Tildy told the elephant he could come inside from the snowstorm – he ate all her food, broke her floor, and couldn’t get out the door.
But, when he carried her house on his back, all the way to a warmer place, it doesn’t seem so crazy.
Maybe, we should rather talk to the white elephant in the room and see if it can take us to greener pastures.
“My expensive collectible 2012 Korean Grand Prix mug stared back at me.”
Heather and Robin Lind at the 2012 Korean Grand Prix.
April 15, 2021
I was washing my dishes in the outside sink (my kitchen renovation is three months overdue). The skittish lesser-striped swallow couple were feeding their cheeping babies above my head. Monkeys were starting to forage nearby. My fluffy, white bunnies were napping under the washing after a usual night of exploration and mayhem around the yard.
I reached past the terrifying earwig that appears on my sponge each morning, and picked up an item from the soapy water. Confused, I did a double take as my collector’s mug emerged with bubbles and coffee stains.
My expensive collectible 2012 Korean Grand Prix mug stared back at me.
The Mug Was a Genuine Collectible From Not So Long Ago
I could not believe this heirloom had been used for coffee. But I remembered that it had been a crazy week with too much work, too little sleep, and no energy for regular dishwashing in my scenic scullery. It had been sick babies juggled with looming deadlines. It has also been a month of several power outages, including a five-day streak after some lightning.
That mug represented all that came before this chaos, when we still contemplated having an adult display shelf instead of only toddler-friendly zones. It told tales of calm and adventurous years of travel, extended honeymoons, and lots of sleep. It was a different life stage; not better, just different.
That Time That Felt Like Another Lifetime Now
It was a time when it was the two of us taking a last-minute road trip in a foreign country to see a real Grand Prix, an event we only dreamed about attending during our lifetime. Vettel fans, we put the track into our Korean-speaking GPS – no small feat, I promise you.
In a comedy of errors that we laughed about afterwards, there was no room at the hotel. There was also no way to park at the track without a permit. Luckily, we chose a hotel that was full of press for the Grand Prix. Two kind French journalists overheard our predicament and shoved two press parking passes into my husband’s hand, saying, “Follow me,” just like that little shrimp in Finding Nemo.
Our borrowed Matiz kept up with their Mercedes as if its life depended on it. It was living up to its local reputation as the mosquito of the highway.
Follow the Adventure and Don’t Get Pushed Off the Road By a Celebrity
The journalists told us explicitly to zoom through the checkpoints as if we belonged there, so we did. Before one of these obstacles, we were almost shoved off the road by a pompous black sports car carrying none other than Heikki Kovalainen.
Still, we found our seats in time for the parade. Those F1 drivers waved right at us as the thunderous Korean air force formation zoomed overhead, more deafening than anything that raced around the track that day. Even when my broken collector’s mug is a mosaic on an old pot plant in fifty years’ time, it will still be true that we raced our Matiz against an F1 legend.
Great memories don’t need a shelf. Oh, and Vettel won.
“Friends lightheartedly commented in May last year that they hoped to meet my little one before he was walking – too late, he took his first steps last week.”
Our woolly-necked storks are residents or intra-African migrants.
April 8, 2021
The first of those lockdown babies has turned ONE! Did you remember?
A year after our lives were turned upside down by an invisible threat, we are still in isolation and it doesn’t feel normal yet. There are likely people in your circles who have changed jobs, lost livelihoods, recovered from surgeries, and upgraded their smartphones. In a whole year, there are also mothers who fell pregnant, watched their bellies expand, and now have an infant – without seeing anyone.
Can you imagine not one of your mommy friends admiring your bump over tea or meeting your child? That is now normal.
It’s Been a Year of Wondering When Things Will Be Normal Again
I haven’t been to a shop in over a year. Or in-person church.
Friends lightheartedly commented in May last year that they hoped to meet my little one before he was walking – too late, he took his first steps last week. My cute two-year-old is now a tall, rambunctious three-going-on-thirteen, rolling eyes and all. He’s outgrown several clothes sizes in a year and forgotten the names of some friends he played with every week before – a year is third of his whole lifespan!
My pregnant belly is now an 11-month toddler who wants to feed himself. He gets excited about the loud sounds of tractors and vacuum cleaners. He’s never met his extended family, including great-grandparents.
So Much Has Changed and Yet So Much Is Still the Same
Will we be looking back the same way another year from now? I don’t know.
Our garden has undergone another season of growth, as has our marriage. Even the swallows are getting ready to leave again after their six-monthly residence on the farm.
I know that you should check on your friends, even if it’s over WhatsApp. Everyone is not okay. South Africans are tough, but these have been dark days where social lifelines haven’t been forthcoming. We need friends and family, but we have also needed to obey the laws and minimise the spread of a virus.
We recently went through five days without electricity on the farm after a terrible lightning storm, but it was like a welcome reset in many ways. My fridge has never looked so clean as it emptied rapidly and couldn’t be refilled.
There’s some light for 2021, but we might have to enjoy a few candlelit dinners to see it. We don’t need complicated technology or filled calendars to be happy.
We do need connection, though. Relationships are the electricity of a fulfilled life.
What changes have you been through in a year of lockdown? Are there connections you need to restore? Don’t lose hope, you’ve already come through an entire year of life-altering abnormality. Keep the lights on and call somebody.
The birds strip my poor little palm trees, and the moles keep pushing up my groundcovers and trees before they can get going. It’s wild.
At least there’s a beautiful coral tree here in my Oribi Gorge garden. Photo By: Heather Lind.
February 21, 2021
Let’s talk about invasion. Maybe not the Star Wars (or Occupy Cape Town mansions) type, though.
I mean lantana, for example, the invasive weed that’s ruining every piece of tilled land where something isn’t planted right away. The butterflies love its pink, orange, and yellow buds, and the birds drop the seeds everywhere (which is how it spreads like wildfire).
As a budding gardener who’s just getting into the nitty-gritties, this weed is only one contender for my wrath in Oribi Gorge. Blackjacks and sweethearts (those semi-circle burrs) come in a hot second. The bunnies are trying to help me clear those, but it’s an uphill battle most summers.
It Isn’t Just a Weed Invasion
Between the monkeys, chickens, rabbits, and Southern Boubous, my seedlings and succulents often lose their will to live or multiply. The birds strip my poor little palm trees, and the moles keep pushing up my groundcovers and trees before they can get going. It’s wild this invasion.
What to do when hours and hours of back-breaking work and careful cultivation has come to naught? It’s a relevant question in a global pandemic, not just for those who took up gardening during South Africa’s perpetual lockdowns. As a sleep-deprived working mom of two, my personal choice is often a mini-breakdown with tears.
The exhausted cry of the mom accompanies out-loud roaring at indignant Vervet monkeys as these relentless opportunists scamper back over the fence after decimating my vegetable garden or blooms. My toddler now imitates this pathetic roaring at will. It’s quite awkward when it is directed at passing tractors or an unsuspecting visitor at our coffee table.
It Isn’t Forever Because Seasons Pass
All that sweat, and real blood from stupid lantana thorns, and what is left in the soil? A lonely stalk that looks nothing like a cabbage, butternut, marigold, or echeveria. It’s infuriating. It’s also illuminating.
A certain beloved Gogo down the road has taught me an invaluable lesson about the things under my care: everything needs pruning. When you care for the land, it responds in kind. You need to chop, hack, and discard the dead and dying plants.
Cut the beautiful hedge down to knee-height, and see what happens in the growing season next year. Don’t be stingy about the damage, either. The more you prune, the more beautiful the development. The more you cut down the wayward tendrils, the stronger the bushy blooms are in the sunshine.
Jesus pruned the vine, too. Now, I understand why.
When last did you prune your own expectations, commitments, and bad habits? Lockdown has given many of us these mini-breakdown moments and we’re not yet out of the woods. Go on, test your roots and clear away the excess that has invaded time, money, relationships, and life choices. You may just find life more beautiful.
Also, you may need to get a dog to keep the monkey invasion at bay.
Anyone can give an opinion on any topic using whatever platform they desire, including irritating 20 minute WhatsApp voice notes from ‘real doctors’
February 11, 2021
I have heard complaints recently on the ridiculous amount of fake news, links, spam, and hackable content floating around the interwebs.Covid-21 is obviously creating ample opportunity for people to come up with ingenious ways of getting under our skin. Links and videos from ‘a friend of a friend’ are ubiquitous.
Anyone can give an opinion on any topic using whatever platform they desire, including irritating 20 minute WhatsApp voice notes from ‘real doctors’.
Do you frequently experience rolling eyes and exasperated sighs as you try to share these links about what is really going on in the world?
Questions To Ask Before You Share That Link
Before we get into the tips for sharing digitally, there’s a caveat. Ask yourself a question before you click share: “Why do I want to duplicate this information?” That’s the first secret to whether you should share what’s on your screen, or permanently delete it.
How does it make you feel?
Does it seem credible?
Is it a warning?
Doesn’t it seem too good to be true?
Would I want someone I love to tell me about this? Why?
Has it changed my perspective or behaviour?
These, and many other questions, should precede any action on your part, but don’t press the button until you’re clear on why you want to forward a snippet to others.
Yes, I Want To Share It
If you’re sure you want to forward the information, voice note, link, or news, here are five tips on how to do that without losing face:
1. Fake or True
If you see something dramatic or shocking, check it first. Go to sites like snopes.com, search for your story. Is it on the ‘fake’ list?
If the information has been shared on several news sites with different statistics, numbers, dates, names, or orders of events, don’t share it.
2. Motives Are Everything
Who is sharing the information? Is it current? Look at the date of the social media post or article – was it a missing person from 2016 who has already been found? Don’t share it.
Why would someone bring it up again now? Do you even know that person or are they a social media shadow? Why do you think they would be sharing it here, at this time, on this platform, to this audience? If you don’t know the answer, don’t share it.
3. Don’t Go Down the Rabbit Hole
Read the article or listen to the voice note right the way through. Did you grow bored halfway? Don’t share it.
Did you skip the article, react to the headline, and get stuck in the explosive comments section? Don’t share it.
4. Find Support
If it is medical information, it should be peer reviewed or well-supported by credible, medical people. Is it a lone doctor on a mission without facts that can be verified?
It is okay to be different, but nobody is smart enough to stumble upon life-changing information that is not supported by any other credible source anywhere in the world.
5. Tell Them Why
Before you forward anything, type the reasons why you think it applies to the person with whom you want to share it. Also, type what it is, and the bottom line. Is that too much effort? Don’t share it.
Discernment is a virtue in the digital domain. The more rubbish you share, the less people listen.
If you’ve understood your own reaction, checked it isn’t fake, read the whole thing, verified the facts, and thought about the author’s motives, and written your own reasons for forwarding it… share it.
If not, maybe it’s best to connect in another way, like sending a funny GIF, meme or video. Better yet, have dinner together and turn off the Wi-Fi.
I have two small children, and two fluffy white bunnies hopping about the garden. And snakes.
February 4, 2021
Western Natal green snake. Photo: Heather Lind.
The other day I walked into the nursery to change a nappy and there was another green snake slithering over the baby’s sock drawer.
I had a good look, heart pumping, and phone out to capture a fuzzy photograph for posterity (and Facebook).
Then I closed the door quickly so that it didn’t find its way around the rest of the house.
When we came back with a bucket and tongs, it had disappeared.
Cold-blooded things are amazingly adept at finding hiding places (or escaping rooms the way they came in).
The western Natal green snake, exploring the things in the baby’s room.
It was just a Western Natal Green snake, probably the one that lives in the spiky tree right off the porch. What if it wasn’t, though? Snakes are daily features in Oribi Gorge.
A scorching day brings gorgeous cobalt skies and blows away the rolling mist, but it also beckons to the creatures that keep this ecosystem thriving.
We have all sorts on the doorstep, venomous and harmless, which is why my children wear gumboots in the yard.
The deadliest are the black mambas, boomslang, vine snakes, puff adders, and Mozambique spitting cobras, but there’s a long list for herpers to tick off.
Natal black snakes are common but rarely seen, and night adders seem to find my house the most attractive place on earth – I have been bitten once, and my poor builder twice!
There are also perilous green mambas, though not endemic to Oribi Gorge.
I’ve no idea why someone would put us in that danger, but these ones are dropped here from all your coastal ‘rescues’ to upset the balance of nature (and give this Oribi Mom slithery nightmares).
We live at peace with the vast number of harmless or mildly venomous snakes that keep our rat and frog population in check.
There are feisty and fearless Heralds, lightning-fast grass snakes, and the super green climbers, like the dainty spotted bush snakes with their orange eyes and pretty black spots.
I wasn’t even going to mention the python population as those are ‘safe,’ right? (not in Francistown, Botswana, apparently). I’d rather have the egg-eater that visited our chicken coop – no teeth or venom!
A Wild and Beautiful Life With Snakes on the Farm
I have two small children, and two fluffy white bunnies hopping about the garden.
Many people are horrified by our close encounters, like the huge baboon spider in the bathroom, harmless but hairy.
For two days, it kept watch over the toilet paper, which lay unused until he moved off.
Scorpions abound, but most are harmless to humans, though the sting is like fire.
This is Africa, but not always that wildness we associate with Jock of the Bushveld characters. It’s also home.
Perhaps, this is how we are meant to live – a bit of healthy awareness never hurt anyone who walked closely with the living things of the earth.
So far, it’s working for us, even when lines are crossed by cheeky green snakes in my baby’s room.
I’ve also loved flitting about the South Coast birding community on Facebook bird groups.
January 14, 2021
A pretty white-eye photographed by Heather in Oribi Gorge.
I’ve always loved nature, but since our move to Oribi Gorge, my blood is emerald green, just like ‘Hello Georgie’.
I may actually be obsessed with the feathered friends that fill this beautiful country.
An overseas friend asked if I was a twitcher, and after a quick Google search, I solemnly declared myself a true bird lover instead.
I’m not a tick-off-the-list ‘twitcher’ who loses interest after they’ve seen every one of South Africa’s 850 recorded species once (725 resident species).
No, I sit on my porch for morning coffee and daily appreciate the wine-red firefinches, melodious black-headed orioles, opportunistic Black Sparrowhawk (which hunts our free range chickens), and the soaring vultures high above our Umzimkulu cliffs.
If there’s a flash of red and jade with a hint of sunshine yellow, I’m late for work. A Narina Trogon is still a huge celebration, even if I’ve seen them a thousand times before.
I’ve also loved flitting about the South Coast birding community on Facebook.
Hugo Voigts in Paddock is phenomenally dedicated – he once sat for over four hours in camouflage to capture elusive flufftail chicks (and this wasn’t his only comparable effort).
Lia Steen in Shelly Beach has the most magnificent finds right in her garden. She must have a brilliant camera to capture that much detail, too. I’ve learned a lot about birding habits from her fascinating posts.
The luckiest South Coast birder must be Stan Culley, somewhere near Port Edward maybe? ‘Culley’s Dam’ boasts fantastic bird visitors daily, including the cutest baby white-starred robin I’m yet to find in my patch of paradise.
Why birding? I think it’s the chase.
Some days you see a new one that you have never, ever noticed before. You read about it (maybe you’ll get a Roberts bird app for your birthday like I did) and learn the sound. The next few weeks, you realise that it is a screech or a song that you hear constantly. It wasn’t a new bird in your garden at all, just a hidden gem.
Once you see it, you can’t un-see it and then you start to appreciate the immense beauty of this country.
Birdwatching Is Good for the Soul
Next time coronavirus has you down, sit at your window or put your binoculars next to you on the porch.
Take a breath, laugh at the bobbing wagtails and the fluttering sunbirds and open your eyes.
You might see that martial eagle gliding above the clouds or you might notice the white-browed scrub robin around your fallen leaves for the very first time.
Life doesn’t stop. You can’t hug your friends for a while, but you can text, call, video call and tag them.
January 7, 2021
Some of us have got stuck, but the road to recovery beckons as the sun rises on 2021. Photo: Pixabay.
If you are still trying to get through your toilet paper stash before 2025, there is something else you might be ready to consider while you wait for the tide to go out.
Things Haven’t Changed
For some of us, the new year has been a huge dent in a grand wall of expectation. We sent out good wishes and then, BOOM, one million COVID reasons to hide back inside our burrows.
Do you know what hasn’t changed, Mzansi? Desperate situations. Our people are still poor, hurting, and disillusioned. NGOs are still working in suffering communities. Domestic violence has escalated with stress and financial uncertainty.
Sickness and childbirth is now accompanied by anxiety about whether a bed will be offered in overburdened medical establishments.
A second wave of Covid-19 is also a reminder of missing billions, floundering leadership, and much grief.
Things Have Changed
Do you know what has changed in this second wave of death, though? We are now survivors.
Post-coronavirus society knows that there is light on the other side of our blacked-out social calendars. We know that alongside the flashing red death toll is a merciful recovery figure, a shining testament of how many people have walked through the valley and emerged mostly intact.
If you want to “speak life,” it’s time to start moving toward better things. You can’t hug your friends for a while, but you can text, call, video call and tag them. You can’t take your grandparents chocolates or cake, but you can bombard them and their caregivers with videos of your children and emails to be read aloud to them (like the “old school” letters they loved).
Give money to the causes that move you to compassion, and click to share their posts far and wide. Open your heart and your wallet again – the needs are still there even if your mask has obscured your view for the last few months.
You can’t date freely or party into the night, but you can maintain friendships, encourage your neighbours when you see each other, and intentionally support local entrepreneurs.
You can’t eat out much, but you can buy vouchers to keep your favourite establishments afloat. You can support free meal programs and fill up the formula coffers of the many baby places of safety that are on the edge of collapse.
There’s More to Life
If you’re jobless now, you have time to clear out clutter and donate to those less fortunate than yourself (they exist, I promise you).
If you’re anxious, you can offer compassion and words of affirmation to those you love to help you focus on life, not the struggle.
Read books, read scripture, exercise, and use the time well.
South Africa, the second wave is an opportunity to start living again. It is a new world but we still have values and connections as old as time. Don’t waste your life.
“Life is precarious, and life is precious. Don’t presume you will have it tomorrow, and don’t waste it today.” – John Piper
I glanced sideways through my trusty sunglasses and ignored the man (obviously).
Fun in the sun, prior to lockdown Level Three and beach restrictions.
January 1, 2021
The week before Cyril closed the beaches was crazy. After a blistering hot morning at the beach, my little farming family stopped at the big city shops – the South Coast Mall – for bread, milk, and Food Lover’s Market droëwors.
Myself, the toddler, and the seven-month-old stayed in the car with hand sanitizer at the ready. My husband donned his mask and queued with the holidaymakers.
The children had fallen asleep and it was sweltering. So, I left the bakkie running, congratulating myself for having children who slept in the air-conditioning for our 45-minute drive home. I was happily rehydrating from my metal, refillable water bottle when I caught sight of a grumpy long-haired man. He looked sweaty in long sleeves and long pants with slops, and happened to be parked next to us. He was looking at my van with intent.
X-ray vision might have revealed that he was muttering as he paced the steaming tar, but suddenly, he started gesticulating and shouting something unintelligible over my diesel engine. I glanced sideways through my trusty sunglasses and ignored him (obviously). Then, he knocked on the window and slid into his (rusty, dented) bakkie, winding down his passenger window and taking off his mask to shout at me again.
I thought maybe I should respond as an intelligent and calm adult, so I lowered the window (a little) and hoped he wouldn’t wake my babies. Clear as day, he was shouting, “Pollution! This is pollution! Turn off the car.” And on he went. I closed the window with a shrug, and slowly processed what had just happened.
Me? Polluting? I wanted Mother Earth to swallow me right there.
Defending Earth Lovers Everywhere
I wanted to shout back at this long-haired man that he was barking at the wrong tree lover. I use cloth nappies. I compost. I drink water from a JoJo rain tank. I replant butternut seeds. I use the dishwater to hydrate pot plants.
My thoughts raced across my Faithful-2-Nature account and fabric shopping bags. I recalled my eco-friendly (generous) relocation of the night adder that bit me last month, and my lack of chemical intervention in the garden where I’ve planted about fifteen trees in the last two years.
Crunchy Oribi Gorge Mom? Killing the earth with fumes at the Southcoast Mall?
I was, though. He was right. It was just an awful delivery of the message. Instead of making me want to change, I wanted to throw (plastic-free) shampoo bars at his sweaty hair.
Where Is the Love Man?
The point is that compassion is a key ingredient – speak the truth, but do it in love. The irate man didn’t know my context and didn’t care, either. I was a responsible parent keeping my babies safe in the midday sun.
For the record, thank you long-haired man for your concern. You might have made a nature-loving friend had you not showered me in shame instead of inviting me to where the grass was greener (and organically fertilised).
May 2021 be a more compassionate year for all (even when we’re hot and “hangry” in the parking lot).
What are pregnant mamas wondering about right now? Everything. They’re wondering about everything.
April 19, 2020
Covid-19 has thrown me a curveball in my second pregnancy. I’m due May 15, 2020, which might or might not be during a nationwide South African lockdown as coronavirus pummels the entire world.
In a time where there should have been the normal pregnant mom ups and downs between joy, hope, and normal baby-related questions, I’m no longer thinking about the pram, the car seat, the clothes, the family pictures, and whether an epidural is worth it.
In my first pregnancy, I was anxious, too. Was the next scan going to show abnormalities? Was that cramp normal? Did I choose the right hospital? Would I know when it was time, or would I end up having the baby in the car? How do you change a nappy on such a tiny human? Will modern cloth nappies save the world? (They will.)
Pregnant Oribi mom with son Cooper. Her second child is due soon.
I had the same worries as any new mother. Would I be able to breastfeed? Would sleep deprivation turn me into a dragon or a basket case?
Disclaimer: If you ask my husband, he’ll never admit to the fact that the sleep deprivation did, in fact, turn me into a basket case for those first few weeks. It will pass, moms and dads. Two-and-a-half years in, I’m back to normal [side-eyes husband].
IT WENT WRONG
My pregnancy started well, much like the first, but something happened between the mid-March appointment and the mid-April appointment. It was a cataclysm that went from a problem in a country on the other side of the planet, to an invisible threat that made me think twice about visiting my own mother.
My thoughts shifted from ‘normal’ pregnant mom questions to survival mode.
Wouldn’t missing an appointment be better than risking exposure at the doctor’s offices? Would my husband, my rock, be allowed into the room with me while I was writhing in pain to bring a new life into the world? Would they whisk my baby away to be sterilised and sanitised and hidden from visitors who would only meet it at six months old?
Panic.
Homebirth pros and cons.
Possible lockdown scenarios as we chatted in mid-March.
What do we do with our toddler? Do we leave him with his grandparents, who are ‘high-risk’ when we don’t know whether a delivery man could (quite possibly) pass it to my husband who could pass it to my son who might be asymptomatic?
Plan B? I go to the hospital ALONE, give birth ALONE, handle complications or last-minute decisions without my partner, and share my joy over WhatsApp if I’m in a state to do so only many hours later (I’m not going to be messaging anyone when I’m breathing through contractions twenty seconds apart, now am I?)
Then lockdown happened. Then extended lockdown happened.
My April appointment at 36 weeks was a hurry-and-don’t-touch-the-door-handles experience. My mask was uncomfortably hot. My husband stayed in the parking lot, missing his first scan in two pregnancies. I tried not to look afraid, and to pretend that I didn’t wish I’d brought some sanitizer into the appointment with me, just in case. I still don’t know if I should’ve intentionally missed the appointment and stayed home until my labour pains brought me out of hiding sometime in the next month. Probably not.
ANSWERS FOR BEING PREGNANT IN COVID-19 LOCKDOWN
In the time of pandemics, the goalposts change slightly, but the health of mother and baby is still the priority. It might feel a little different, and we’re all doing it for the first time, even the doctors and nurses who are trying their best to keep you safe and uninfected.
Here’s what you need to know (from what I have been able to gather, and please understand it’s not an exact and definitive list) about the lockdown, and after lockdown, as you tackle this blessed journey with the courage your mother and grandmother have always told you about:
Most South African hospitals are not allowing ANY visitors, especially during the official lockdown period. Some are allowing partners to come into the birthing room, but not allowing them back in once they leave (ONE entry only).
Most hospitals have a strict entry policy for both your appointments and your birth. It includes screening (they ask you questions, take your temperature, insist on you wearing a mask, and escort you to where you are headed on the premises).
Your hospital MAY have Covid-19 patients. As South Africa faces the spread of the pandemic in the next few months, however slow, this is going to be a reality. These patients will be kept away from the maternity sections, and precautions will be taken, but you will have to face the coronavirus at some point.
DURING LOCKDOWN YOU PROBABLY WON’T BE ABLE TO (AND PROBABLY SHOULDN’T, ANYWAY):
Organise a baby shower
Take a professional pregnancy or newborn photo shoot with your family
Attend antenatal classes in person
Register your baby with Home Affairs
Find the baby immunisations easily (especially if you are trying to avoid medical facilities until the virus settles down)
Receive hospital visitors
LIFE AFTER COVID-19
The situation is likely to continue after lockdown, even if the regulations lift. Medical establishments are still going to take precautions (for our sake!) and require stricter rules. Ask questions, and don’t bite the hospital staff’s head off when they tell you something you weren’t expecting to hear. We’re in this together, South Africa.
After lockdown, you may be able to resume some regular activities, but you will still need to be careful about exposing yourself and your little one to the outside world while the virus is still circulating. Prepare for months of self-isolation at best if we are to learn from the countries who have gone through this before us.
Life after Covid-19 exists. You’re pregnant. You will carry and birth a child into a whole new world with a new appreciation for the sanctity and beauty of life. It’s a universe where dedicated South African school teachers are posting AMAZING BLOOPER VIDEOS, and people like Henry Cock are running 90km up and down their passage to help get 86 staff through the downturn.
Empathy and compassion and love are not easy when it means that our own comfort is in jeopardy, but that’s what makes life richer. PHOTO BY MATHYAS KURMANN on UNSPLASH
Heather and Robin Lind at the 2012 Korean Grand Prix.
Our woolly-necked storks are residents or intra-African migrants.
The western Natal green snake, exploring the things in the baby’s room.
