Our living-room window has become our baby's literal window to the world

This column is an opinion by Sunny Dhillon, who became a father during the COVID-19 pandemic.  For more information about CBC's Opinion section, please see the FAQ.

We'd been home with our new baby for about a day and it was (finally?) time to show her off.

Jaya was born March 26 at a Vancouver hospital but due to visitor restrictions amid the COVID-19 outbreak she had not been able to see our family and friends — at least, not through anything other than a phone screen.

But now that my wife and I and our little bundle of poop and joy had made our way home, the in-person visits and supply drops could begin — just not in a way we ever anticipated.

The first of these meetings was with my sister. We noticed her heading up our walkway and offered a sleepy wave through the living-room window. She saw us and followed suit.

And that is about where this meeting — and others like it in the days to come — remained, with the glimpses and lighting-challenged photographs occurring only through the safety of the glass.

This is our new tradition. This is our baby's window to her loved ones and the world during the global pandemic.

Jaya arrived 2½ weeks early and I personally would have preferred it if she'd hung in a little longer to give us more time to flatten the curve.

That, however, is the opinion of a person who neither had to lug her around inside a uterus, nor be confined within it.

The delivery

My wife and I weren't quite sure what to expect when we drove to the hospital on the morning of. We, like everyone else, were glued to the news and our circumstances seemed to change by the day, whether it was through the cancelling of our parenting class or our first doula deciding to quit because she feared picking up the virus (we did find a second).

To our immense relief, though, our delivery played out pretty much as expected. Sure, there were some COVID-related questions but nothing we couldn't handle. Being at the hospital actually felt like a reprieve. We'd been holed up on our own, as if in a post-apocalyptic world, for a couple of weeks.

As first-time parents, the sudden proximity to those who could help us out calmed our nerves, even if being in a hospital for two nights during a pandemic probably should have frayed them.

Arranging a baby viewing 

When we chose our current home, I'll admit the layout of our living-room window wasn't top of mind and our setup is not ideal for baby-viewing.

A hedge blocks much of the potential standing room outside and those who want to see our consistently milk-drunk child have one corner to choose from, with both the reflecting sun and multiple security-alarm stickers serving as hindrances.

Our window also looks onto a busy street and we're only a minute into the first meeting when we notice confused looks from a couple of pedestrians.

"This is how I'm meeting my new niece," my sister explains, excitedly.

I open the window a crack on the far side, with the hope this will make it easier to talk (it's not). It's only later that I wonder if this was a mistake. Could the spores have jumped the five feet, hooked a right and gotten through the screen? Am I losing it? I find myself longing for the new-parent anxieties of yesteryear. Installing the car seat now seems quaint.

By the time my wife's parents arrive the next day, we've gotten a little better at the process. We move some furniture around so we can get closer to the glass and carefully manoeuvre Jaya so her face isn't blocked by the white security bars.

Having a conversation remains difficult but the heart-to-hearts can wait for FaceTime. This is much more show than tell.

As I write this, we've been home from the hospital for about three weeks. Jaya has only left our home a handful of times — three check-ups and two extremely paranoid stroller walks — and we find ourselves wondering if a "normal" childhood is in the cards, if normalcy even still exists. 

When will she play with her young cousins? Will she have birthday parties? How exactly will baristas misspell her name?

We don't know — but we do feel very fortunate to have a healthy, happy baby and a circle of support that's willing to drop off meals, diapers or anything else we need.

So, like new parents the world over, we remain hunkered down for now.

We wait. We see. 

Out through our living-room window, usually.