Mr Minion and I went out last night for the first time since Little Miss Minion’s arrival 6 1/2 months ago. It was nerve-wracking, but I’m very glad we went. It was the wedding reception of one of his cousins, at a very cool venue with TONS of people. We got dressed up, I wore heels (first time wearing “real” shoes outside of doctor’s appointments in like 5 months), and talked to people who weren’t pediatricians, or nurses, or neurosurgeons, or pediatric neurologists, or physical therapists, or doctors.
The prep work for this was normal routine for us, with the added catch that we haven’t seen many people since she was born, and even less people since cold/flu/RSV lockdown began. We each had a little bottle of hand sanitizer that we used after touching things like the pen for the guest book or the handrail of the shuttle bus. No hugs, no handshakes allowed. There were elevator and door attendants, so no need to worry about touching the buttons or the handles. We stopped at home before going to pick up LMM from my mom’s house so we could properly scrub up and change clothes. As we were walking toward the front doors, and as our anxiety and germophobia built up, we could hear music being piped from the lobby of the venue. It was “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey.
Backstory: We drove to see LMM in the NICU for every single one of her 84 days there. And every single night when we drove home after leaving her behind, we would hear “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey on the radio. I think there were about 5 times we DIDN’T hear that song, and we heard a Frankie Valli song instead, which is extra weird because nobody plays him anymore and that is all I ever listened to in my car on the drive to work every day while I was pregnant. So its kind of “our song” between the three of us.
We took it as a sign that going out was a good idea.