Due to Covid-19, Mothers Unleashed is on a break until further notice. For this installment of “The Stories We Tell," instead of sharing a story from our community, Amelia ruminates on the "new" normal – what it means for her family and for families across the United States. Amelia is a screenwriter, mother, and co-founder of Mothers Unleashed.

"Last picture of us before I head into the hospital alone to induce" the post read. It took me a minute to process what I was reading. Articles like this from the New York Times or petitions like this seemed like something that might happen – a worry for an unreachable future – to people far out of my network.

Yet, of course I know multiple people in NYC affected by the "labor alone" mandate.

Like many others, I'm terrified of Covid-19. It seems to affect people of all ages and fitness levels in frightening ways, like this 25-year-old athlete with no preexisting conditions. It takes down entire families after a harmless dinner party. So, when I heard about the labor alone policy, I did not disagree with it. New York City is quickly becoming the United States' epicenter of Covid-19, and the harrowing tales of the doctors and nurses on the front lines are nothing short of sickening. Sadly, it seems like the rest of the United States is following in New York's footsteps.

Some people want to continue life as normal. Our President thinks we can be back in action by Easter. That's not me.

But I do wonder what the affects will be on new families. As New York City's labor and delivery wards clamp down, how will new mothers recover emotionally from the experience? How will fathers bond with their babies? Will these lone-laborers face the maternal mortality rates of Soviet-era Russia? We hope not.

Then I think about my own child. There are whispers that we could be living in this heightened state of lockdown, at least on and off, for up to 18 months. What are the effects of zero socialization on a toddler? Is FaceTime and Zoom enough to stave off a change in her brain chemistry? I comfort myself by remembering that she was able to socialize for the first sixteen months of her life. And we're lucky to be able to take walks outside, albeit on empty streets. But what about a newborn, restricted not only from seeing other babies, but also from seeing extended family, for the first year-and-a-half of its life? And how, exactly, does a parent raise a child without any outside help whatsoever?

As the saying goes, life finds a way.

Of course, no one can live with these worries suffocating them every hour of the day. As quickly as they overwhelm, the worries float away. The sky is a crystal blue, today, and there is less garbage on the street. Neighbors are friendly and wave from across the street. Tea is delicious, and I quite enjoy Think Thin's Brownie Crunch protein bars. In the other room, my husband is reading our daughter a book, something he has the luxury to do now that he works from home. So, while he and I vacillate between utter fear – what if we get sick?, what if he loses his job?, what if the grocery stores are unable to stock food? – I enjoy finding new art projects to do with our daughter and squirrelling away every morning to write.

But the "what about" returns just as quickly as it left – what about the people living alone? What about the out-of-work restaurant workers, or my friends with diabetes? What about the homeless? What about the work-at-home families with young children? What about my sister in New York? What about my cousin in New Orleans? What about my father, a doctor, and my mother with so many preexisting conditions I'd get breathless listing them? Or my in-laws, who go to the store far too often and seem to keep forgetting to wash their hands.

We will make it through this, because we have to. But it will change us. Perhaps we're getting closer in spirit to our ancestors, people who lived with the dead in their living rooms. Epidemics used to be a way of life. Not just the 1918 Flu, which infected 500 million people, but, typhoid, tuberculosis, smallpox…

For now, there are no answers. There is only every moment, where we juggle the feelings of panic beside the odd joy of slowing down. We have to remember to be kind to ourselves. Give ourselves space to feel all of the complex thoughts and emotions that we're juggling in every moment. And if we have the capacity to do so, remember to check in on new parents. Call loved ones. Don't forget to wave to strangers. And of course, keep washing your hands. From afar, we're all in this together.