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I lost my job because of the coronavirus pandemic

My boss called and asked if I could come into the office for a quick meeting. My stomach sank. I knew what was coming.

stressed woman

I landed a pretty incredible opportunity with a start-up snack company last September. It was new and fresh and best of all, they understood that family comes first. They were willing to let me work from 9 am to 2 pm every day, partially remote, so I could pick my daughter up from school.

I had done the crazy hours commuting to and from NYC—leaving early, coming home late, missing bedtime—and I knew I just couldn't continue life that way. This job was 12 minutes from my house and the owners of the company GOT IT, being that they were parents themselves.

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All had been going great—it was a start-up, so it was chaotic, but I loved it. I loved the fast-paced environment and our team that was quickly being pieced together. And the company was doing well, too! We were in major national chains and had just landed a deal with a major airline. My team was growing, and so was I.

All that changed faster than I could have ever imagined.

Wednesday, March 11th, as President Trump gave his national address about the coronavirus, I was in the office discussing hiring two more people for my team and expanding our coverage. Thursday came and it seemed the United States was beginning to see how serious this might be. That night, the area I live in canceled school for at least two weeks.

I suddenly got a pit in my stomach.

People were rushing to stores to stock up on core supplies. And the stores were shorting their orders, only bringing in necessities. This thought kept repeating in my mind—our snack is not a necessity. I tried my best to push those negative thoughts to the back of my mind telling myself everything would be okay. We'd get through this.

Friday morning came and I called my boss to see what our game plan was. He said they had pretty much decided the company would work from home for the next two weeks. We spoke again 15 minutes before a conference call, had the call, and everything seemed normal. Until it wasn't.

Immediately following the call, my phone rang, and my boss asked if I could come into the office for a quick meeting. My stomach sank. I knew what was coming.

I arrived at the office feeling sick. He explained to me that our investors were getting nervous. Most of them were based in Europe so they were about three weeks ahead of us in dealing with COVID-19. Our is also made in Spain so they had used everything in order to get a four-month supply shipped over to the US quickly. They needed to scale back, and that meant making cuts.

I understood and thanked them for the opportunity they gave me, but it was still beyond hard to process. How had everything been going so well 48 hours ago? Even the morning I was let go I had no idea things would change so quickly.

When I got home, my daughter asked how my meeting went. It broke my heart. I had been so proud of myself for being able to find a job where I could make money, provide for my family and still make it home in time for school pickup. It was hard and finding balance was a struggle sometimes, but I was doing it and I was happy.

I was on the forefront of coronavirus-layoffs. In a matter of a few days, I've seen restaurants shutter, salons close and have heard thousands upon thousands of others are also out of work now, too. And I'm afraid there's more to come.

We don't know how this is going to play out but we do need to do our part to stop it from spreading so life can eventually get back to normal and our kids can go to the park again and go back to school. Until then, let's all practice patience.

If nothing else, we have a captive audience with our children. That's what I'm holding onto right now. Let's teach them how to react during difficult times and how to live their lives with more kindness than ever.

I felt lost as a new mother, but babywearing helped me find myself again

I wish someone had told me before how special wearing your baby can be, even when you have no idea how to do it.

My first baby and I were alone in our Brooklyn apartment during a particularly cold spring with yet another day of no plans. My husband was back at work after a mere three weeks of parental leave (what a joke!) and all my friends were busy with their childless lives—which kept them too busy to stop by or check in (making me, at times, feel jealous).

It was another day in which I would wait for baby to fall asleep for nap number one so I could shower and get ready to attempt to get out of the house together to do something, anything really, so I wouldn't feel the walls of the apartment close in on me by the time the second nap rolled around. I would pack all the diapers and toys and pacifiers and pump and bottles into a ginormous stroller that was already too heavy to push without a baby in it .

Then I would spend so much time figuring out where we could go with said stroller, because I wanted to avoid places with steps or narrow doors (I couldn't lift the stroller by myself and I was too embarrassed to ask strangers for help—also hi, New Yorkers, please help new moms when you see them huffing and puffing up the subway stairs, okay?). Then I would obsess about the weather, was it too cold to bring the baby out? And by the time I thought I had our adventure planned, the baby would wake up, I would still be in my PJs and it was time to pump yet again.

Slowly, but surely, and mostly thanks to sleep deprivation and isolation, I began to detest this whole new mom life. I've always been a social butterfly. I moved to New York because I craved that non-stop energy the city has and in the years before having my baby I amassed new friends I made through my daily adventures. I would never stop. I would walk everywhere just to take in the scenery and was always on the move.

Now I had this ball and chain attached to me, I thought, that didn't even allow me to make it out of the door to walk the dog. This sucks, I would think regularly, followed by maybe I'm not meant to be a mom after all.


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I never wanted to be a mom. It wasn't something I ever thought would happen until I fell madly in love with my husband—who knew very well he wanted children. While he was a natural at entertaining our nephews or our friends' kids, I would awkwardly try to interact with them, not really knowing what to say or do.

Our first pregnancy was a surprise, a much-wanted one but also a unicorn, "first try" kind of pregnancy. As my belly grew bigger, so did my insecurities. How do you even mom when you never saw motherhood in your future? I focused all my uncertainties on coming up with a plan for the delivery of my baby—which proved to be a terrible idea when my dreamed-of unmedicated vaginal birth turned into an emergency C-section. I couldn't even start motherhood the way I wanted, I thought. And that feeling happened again when I couldn't breastfeed and instead had to pump and bottle-feed. And once more, when all the stress from things not going my way turned into debilitating postpartum anxiety that left me not really enjoying my brand new baby.

As my baby grew, slowly so did my confidence that I could do this. When he would tumble to the ground while learning how to walk and only my hugs could calm him, I felt invincible. But on the nights he wouldn't sleep—whether because he was going through a regression, a leap, a teeth eruption or just a full moon—I would break down in tears to my husband telling him that he was a better parent than me.

Then I found out I was pregnant again, and that this time it was twins. I panicked. I really cannot do two babies at the same time. I kept repeating that to myself (and to my poor husband) at every single appointment we had because I was just terrified. He, of course, thought I could absolutely do it, and he got me through a very hard pregnancy.

When the twins were born at full term and just as big as singleton babies, I still felt inadequate, despite the monumental effort I had made to grow these healthy babies and go through a repeat C-section to make sure they were both okay. I still felt my skin crawl when they cried and thought, What if I can't calm them down? I still turned to my husband for diaper changes because I wasn't a good enough mom for twins.

My husband reminded me (and still does) that I am exactly what my babies need. That I am enough. A phrase that has now become my mantra, both in motherhood and beyond, because as my husband likes to say, I'm the queen of selling myself short on everything.

So when my babies start crying, I tell myself that I am enough to calm them down.

When my toddler has a tantrum, I remind myself that I am enough to get through to him.

When I go out with the three kids by myself and start sweating about everything that could go wrong (poop explosions times three), I remind myself that I am enough to handle it all, even with a little humor.


And then one day I found this bracelet. Initially, I thought how cheesy it'd be to wear a reminder like this on my wrist, but I bought it anyway because something about it was calling my name. I'm so glad I did because since day one I haven't stopped wearing it.

Every time I look down, there it is, shining back at me. I am enough.

I Am Enough bracelet 

SONTAKEY  I Am Enough Bracelet

May this Oath Bracelet be your reminder that you are perfect just the way you are. That you are enough for your children, you are enough for your friends & family, you are enough for everything that you do. You are enough, mama <3

$35

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The American Academy of Pediatrics says that newborns, especially, do not need a bath every day. While parents should make sure the diaper region of a baby is clean, until a baby learns how to crawl around and truly get messy, a daily bath is unnecessary.

So, why do we feel like kids should bathe every day?

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