The following excerpt is written by Dr. Janienne Kondrich.

“Healing must feel something like this.” 

I’m cooking dinner while my nine-year-old daughter fills me in on the day’s highlights. She and her older sister recently returned to in-person school in New York City. Without reprieve from COVID fears or return of a remote learning option, I had homeschooled them most of the second year of the pandemic. Despite the obvious challenges that accompany acting as a fourth and sixth grade educator within the confines of a two-bedroom apartment, all while working full-time as a pediatric emergency physician, I absolutely loved it. Although there are countless things the pandemic has taken from us, it has given me the gift of time with my girls. 

My older daughter was only six weeks old when I returned to my final year of residency. My husband and I welcomed a second child less than three years later while I was in fellowship; this time I had eight weeks at home. After the birth of both girls, the demand was at first physical: sleep a few hours per night, remain on your feet while you recover from growing and delivering a human, maintain your milk supply because at least— at least—it’s one way you can still nurture your baby.

Dr. Janienne Kondrich smiles with her husband, Erik Jensen, and their daughters Ella and Evangeline.

As they grew older, the challenge morphed into a psychological one. The following years brought a tension between dedication to my career and the knowledge I was missing key moments of their childhoods. I continued riding on the merry-go-round familiar to many that next week will be better, less busy.

The pandemic brought all of it to an abrupt halt—no more sports practices, birthday parties, or playdates. Previously, in the brief pockets of time when I was home, they were out. Now, I had more time with my girls than I ever had before. And somehow, amid the fear and uncertainty, and the increased and changing demands at work, I found the peace at home I had been looking for.

Over the last couple years, we baked many loaves of banana bread, went on nighttime walks to see the illuminated Manhattan skyline, watched movies, and played board games. Interspersed among it all were conversations about friendship, life, and predictions for the fourth season of Stranger Things. I am involved in what they are learning, and we cuddle at bedtime most nights. We are more connected now than ever before. 

The world steamrolls ahead to return to “normal” pre-pandemic life, a delusive ideal. I refuse to ignore the lessons of the last two years. As my daughters grow, so do I. We can never get time lost returned to us; all we have is now. Healing must feel something like this.

—Janienne Kondrich, MD, Weill Cornell Medicine, NY

The following excerpt is written by Dr. Nicole Gerber.

“We learned to just sit” 

Dr. Nicole Gerber poses with her daughter Eliana, son Max, husband Jon, and baby Hannah.

I was a busy working mom of two young kids, and I didn’t know how to have unscheduled time. Weekends when I wasn’t working were spent going to museums or parks—going somewhere, never just sitting at home. And then, we couldn’t go anywhere. I felt trapped.

I made schedules and tried to come up with activities, nothing taking as long as I planned. When you are two years old, it only takes two minutes to color a picture, not the 30 minutes I tried to allot to the task. A week went by. Every minute at home felt like an hour; at work, every minute felt like a war zone. The patients just kept coming in—COVID-like illness, cough with hypoxia, fever and cough. When would it be my turn? Would I leave my children motherless? Would I bring it home and sicken my family? I had obsessive personal protective equipment and decontamination rituals before returning home. At home, the drag of time.   

Until one day, time began to move normally again. We settled into a routine. A little fresh air. Reading some books. Play time. Unscheduled play time. (And let’s not lie, lots of TV and iPad time). And we grew comfortable with each other and the lack of plans. I came to relish the opportunity to spend time with my children.

I was so relieved when schools and daycares re-opened. I fervently hope they never close again. But as the world began to re-open, we realized we didn’t have to go somewhere. We learned to just sit with ourselves. For that, I will always be grateful. 

—Nicole Gerber, MD, Weill Cornell Medicine, NY