A lot of packing today. Trying to think of everything I might need for the next 21 days. Autumn is here and I know it’s going to be starting to get cold, so winter clothes are going in too. I don’t really believe it will be 21 days, I’m sure it will be more, Peter agrees.

Peter is an anaesthetist… the doctors that do CPR, intubate and keep people alive when other doctors aren’t as confident in doing so. In a time like this Coronavirus epidemic they’re front line. He’s going to be dealing with a lot of sick people in the next few weeks and even with the right PPE, he’ll be a risk to the kids and me. Being 27 weeks pregnant also means I’m in the high-risk category. And so, the very difficult decision to move me and the boys in with my mom and step-dad was taken.

Food, clothes, toys, bikes, books, craft supplies – all ready.

Peter dropped off the first load at my mom’s house and then we all said goodbye… our last hugs (no lip kissing already) and got in the car.

I’d been keeping it relatively together all day and I wanted to stay strong for the boys. I don’t want them to see how desperately unhappy I was to be leaving Peter alone for the next few weeks (?).

But, I must be honest, I’ve cried my fair share of tears on my own since then.

Luckily the boys know their gran’s house and the beds and the rules (generally)… and it’s my old bedroom with my old bed from varsity, so it has a comforting familiarity. We’re going to be ok.

 

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