I got a brief email this week from my upstairs neighbor. It announced the birth of Baby Remy, coming in at eight pounds even, twenty-one and a half inches. Proud papa added that mother and baby and dog (a goofy but sweet shelter dog they adopted over a year ago) are all doing well.

Last Christmas, the couple, both of whom I guess to be in their late twenties, made hand-written notations in their Christmas cards, declaring they were expecting their first child the beginning of May.

I saw the momma-to-be about six weeks ago, when we were watching alarming news of COVID cases increasing but were not yet required to wear masks in public. After not seeing her for the most of the winter, the sight of her very round belly came as a bit of a shock to me.  

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

She explained that she felt nauseous early in her pregnancy but felt pretty good in recent weeks. She went on to explain that hospital rules for having a baby were a little different during the corona virus pandemic. No visitors were allowed, only the father.

I think she felt sad about this.

I hadn’t given this much thought before, that having a baby would be very different these days. First-time mothers may feel cheated of some of the normal hoopla surrounding giving birth; the attention of staff and the physical support of family members, their presence now banned from the Labor & Delivery waiting room.

Having been pretty much confined to my unit for weeks now, I’ve gotten used to not seeing people often, even members of the other five families that live in my building. Although home for almost a week already, I didn’t even know there was another life sleeping just a floor above mine.

When I looked at the official digital photo of Baby Remy (obviously making the rounds), I broke into a big smile.

It seems that so much has been shut down. Stores and concert halls and movie theaters and parks. It was so nice to be reminded that things are opening up, too.

I take three walks a day, outwardly to keep my dog to a toilet routine, but the walks are at least as much for my mental health.

It affords me chances to see changes in my neighborhood and marvel at the tiny gifts of nature. In this early part of spring, despite the unpredictability of the weather, there are signs of new life.

It’s clear that certain flowers and plants are hesitant, but they want to bloom.

Baby Remy arrived a couple weeks early, according to the calendar, but he was ready.

Despite the turmoil and uncertainty —

Babies are being born…anyway.

Couples are getting married…anyway.

Crocuses are bursting out of the ground…anyway.

Seniors are graduating…anyway.

Training wheels are being removed from bicycles…anyway.

Windows, closed for months, are being opened…anyway.

Things want to claim their lives or begin something new when it is THEIR TIME.

Maybe, like a pregnancy, lots of important things are happening right now, things that can move the whole world in the direction of greater compassion and regard (for each other and our planet). But we cannot see all the changes.

Maybe we’re coming to a tipping point. I’d like to think that this greater understanding will emerge in its time, which I hope will come soon.

Meantime, I will relish this photo of my new neighbor, a baby boy unconsciously curling his fingers into a fist, getting ready to grab something, ready to begin his life.

Remembering that any moment represents a doorway to a new beginning is no small thing.