Pregnancy, Pandemic, & Small Business Life
I haven’t felt pulled to write for a while, but today I started writing a long facebook rant and realized it would find a better home here…
I am trying to stay positive and spread all my good vibes and magical yoga fairy dust. I feel obligated to do this when I have a child who needs me to remain calm, and a community of students who rely on me to do just that. But over the years, I’ve found one of the best things I can do as a leader is to be human.
Before this pandemic uprooted life, I was actually compiling a blog post about how calm I’ve been throughout this pregnancy and how it’s such a different experience than I had with my daughter. Well, I had to stop writing that in a blink of an eye.
I thought about this pregnancy for a solid year before I even mentioned it to my husband. I focused on making sure I was stable in every sense of the word. I planned it out meticulously around all my friends weddings, saved up a maternity leave fund, and made sure my business was running seamlessly. For one of the first times in my life, I wasn’t anxious about what could go wrong.
Well you know what they say, you can plan a pretty picnic but you can’t predict a global pandemic to come and put you out of work and close the business you worked your ass off at for 6.5 years. I did not see this one coming. Of course, none of us did.
I have to say that I’m scared and angry. I am angry at our elected officials because I believe more could have been done sooner. I am angry because I think more needs to be being done now. I am angry because our political systems are broken. I am scared because by the time I can reopen, I am going to be super pregnant. I am scared because I have no idea if I can realistically afford to have a staff anymore.
I’ve worked 7 days a week for 6.5 years. It’s never been a “Ugh, gotta go to work again” 7 days a week. It’s been a joy because I truly love teaching. I love my studio, my students, and the fulfillment my work brings me in a much broader respect than financially. I feel trapped. I am paying rent on a space I legally cannot use right now. That feels awful, but I know I have to keep doing it so I have everything I’ve worked for to go back to, one day. I am trying to keep some revenue coming in with online classes, but doing things behind a computer screen will never be the same. I am all for staying safe and doing my part, but I’m not going to sit here and pretend I don’t feel like screaming.
I feel awful for my child who is now home 24/7 and there’s no way I can give her 100%. I’m tired, I’m still “working” from home, and I am just not cut out for stay at home mom life. Bless her teachers at pre-k, dance, gymnastics, swimming, theater, her grandparents. She has a life full of fun and structure that I hope she can get back to soon.
But mostly, I miss the little things
I miss listening to music in my car alone on the way to and from work
I miss random lunch dates with my best friend
I miss supporting other small businesses like mine
I miss waking up early every day and having a plan
I know in the grand scheme of what is going on, my problems are not actually problems. I know my studio will reopen, even though it will be different than it was. I know this is all temporary. I’m trying to not let all of this rob me of my joy during this pregnancy. I am thankful I am having a healthy and otherwise uneventful pregnancy that some can only dream of. I feel guilty even being angry or sad when I have so much going for me.
I have had this lingering thought in my head for a few years now about letting go. I kept asking myself this question, “how will I know when it’s time to let go?” It seemed like a really invasive thought which would occasionally find it’s way into my mind regarding my work. Now, I am sure that right now isn’t that time. I am in this for the long haul.
I don’t even know if this post makes any type of sense, but I feel better getting it out in some type of text. I know we are “all in this together,” but I also know each and every one of our experiences is different right now. I’m here to listen. Your feelings are valid, as are mine, and life will get back to something. Maybe not “normal,” but a new normal…
Phoenix Matarazzo 
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