I never imagined we would find ourselves in such a situation. How could I? Yet, despite that realization, I am truly sorry that our circumstances are not better.
I regret that I wasn’t prepared for this shift. I didn’t have a plan for how we would navigate months at home without school, extracurricular activities, or playdates—everything that used to keep you engaged. We’re making do with what we have: frequent Amazon deliveries and an abundance of screen time. While you may find some enjoyment in this, I’m sorry I can’t provide more.
I’m sorry I can’t answer all your questions. You have so many, and as your mother, I want to help you understand. Yet, there are things I struggle to explain at your tender age, and even some questions I can’t answer myself.
I wish you could be with your friends at school, rather than relying on a computer screen for interaction. It pains me that I struggle to set up these virtual playdates for you. My social media feeds show your friends happily connecting online, making it look effortless and fun. But our home doesn’t feel the same, and I hesitate to force these interactions. Perhaps this falls more on me than on you, and for that, I apologize.
I’m sorry that even though I’m home all day working, I can’t always be present for you. Being at home used to mean I had finished my workday and could spend quality time with you. Now you know I’m here, but I’m not accessible. I’m in another room, conducting telehealth sessions with clients, hearing your laughter from afar. It breaks my heart when I hear you call out for me or when I step out briefly and you ask, “Mama, are you done with work now?” I’m sorry I sometimes avoid you during the day to keep this from happening.
I deeply regret that I’m not the parent I aspired to be for you. This feeling was present before the pandemic, but it has intensified now. My patience is thin, and I am anxious about the current state of the world. Unfortunately, you and your father bear the brunt of my stress, and I apologize for that.
I’m sorry for yelling at you to avoid hugging your father when he returns from the grocery store. I can only imagine how confusing it must be for you to adapt to behaviors that feel so unnatural to us as parents. Your joy at greeting him has always brought me happiness, but now it fills me with fear that a simple hug could jeopardize your health.
I’m also sorry you can’t hug your grandparents. We’ve always encouraged closeness with them, and in an instant, we tell you that you must stay away. It’s contradictory and confusing. We’ve tried to keep them in your lives through FaceTime and socially distanced visits, but I know this doesn’t make sense to you.
Above all, I’m sorry for feeling this way. I know that much of this situation is beyond my control, and we all must cope with it. I recognize that we are fortunate compared to many others. I want to focus on the positives and cherish this unexpected time together, but there are moments when that feels challenging.
And for that, I apologize.
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In summary, as we navigate this new reality, I want you to know how much I care about your well-being and how deeply I regret the impact of these changes on your lives.