The Pandemic Changed How These Women Work, Date, and Parent

Get the Full StoryIt's easy to say the pandemic is in the past. Many of us have returned to the office, resumed full social lives, and gotten our health in order. The World Health Organization even officially declared that COVID was no longer a global health emergency in May 2023. But is it really behind us? Five years since the beginning of the pandemic, its lasting impact is clear.

We've heard of the ways people at developmental ages - like toddlers, college students, and young adults - have been affected. Yet an often overlooked group is younger millennial women - women who entered the pandemic in their lower 20s and have emerged past 30, a milestone that many see as true adulthood.

Of course, the health implications are significant. Women continue to be affected by COVID at disproportionate rates. They predominantly occupy jobs with the most exposure to the virus, are more susceptible to developing long COVID, and are affected by chronic illnesses. But health aside, for many women, changes are felt in their day-to-day lives. Whether due to prolonged solidarity or rethinking priorities during the pandemic, they've experienced a shift in their core values.

In March 2020, you may have been on the brink of burning out at your corporate job, and now, you're pursuing an alternate career path. Maybe you had just gotten pregnant, and now, you're a mom to a 4-year-old, parenting in a way you would have never imagined. Or, perhaps, you were on the search for your future husband, and now, you're not sure if a husband is even what you want.

Five years since the start of the pandemic, we're speaking to three women who've faced these shifts around important values: motherhood, romance, and career. Below, in their own words, they reflect on how the pandemic has changed the way they live their lives.

The Pandemic Changed How I Parent

Image Source: Kiaya Carter

Kiaya Carter, 32, was five months pregnant when the world shut down. She and her husband, Jason, were living in Cincinnati, OH, getting ready for their now 4-year-old daughter Lola's arrival. Prior to becoming a mom, Carter thought she'd take the "village approach" in her parenting, but giving birth and mothering in isolation instilled confidence and forced her to trust her intuition.

During my pregnancy, I felt robbed. We had been navigating infertility for two years, and Lola was originally supposed to be a twin, so there was a lot of pain from before getting pregnant and the miscarriage. So my pregnancy was supposed to be a big hoorah. She was truly a miracle. This baby felt like everybody's baby.

I knew I wanted to raise her to be strong, to be a force, but when it comes to how I was going to do that, the pandemic distorted my view.

I had planned my baby shower - I had the layout, budget, guest list, and I had to cancel it. I wasn't able to do the parenting classes that I wanted to do. I wanted to be around my family and friends, and get to kiki around me being pregnant. They were a part of this journey as well. It felt like it was snatched away from me. But I'm grateful for my husband. Our relationship strengthened and I didn't feel lonely, and we had to find joy and new ways to really take in my pregnancy. As I look back, that was exactly how it needed to be for myself, my kid, and my husband.

I thought I was going to be a mom that was reliant on her community. I had that village approach, romanticizing me being a new mom. But when my husband and I were quarantining, I didn't know what kind of mother I was going to be because I had to reimagine everything else. I knew I wanted to raise her to be strong, to be a force, but when it comes to how I was going to do that, the pandemic distorted my view.

I really had to lean on my husband and my intuition because it was just him and me, and that's how we work now. We had only been married for a year and a half. It showed that yes, a village would've been nice, but we are the core and we operate as such. We don't consult anybody else; we are the decision-makers of her life. And that is not how I thought I was going to be. Being pregnant and being a mother in isolation toughened me up. When it comes to the village, it's not my guiding light anymore.

The pandemic also made me a mama bear. Everything that we can control needs to be the best it can be. There's no slacking. She has the best pediatrician, best dentist, best this, best that. Because my intuition led me here and I don't want to take a chance. I can't assess the risk with my daughter. She's a Black girl, so there's no games to be played.

I'm not naive to the fact that we're Black. I knew that was going to come, but I didn't know how intensified it would be until COVID made me that way. I knew it was us against the world, and I'm going to hold people accountable in making sure my daughter has the best experience. The pandemic made me grateful for my life, and it also put this idea in my head that I would never have this opportunity again. I most likely won't have another kid - COVID has showed me all the impacts - and it's go time.

Seeing what I know, racism, the killings of Black bodies, I couldn't take any chances. And before, I was still the same way, but the pandemic reminded me of the world that we live in and how it'll impact her. As I was planning for doctors and what childcare was going to look like, everybody was Black: Black pediatrician, Black OB. I wanted to make sure that we were seen and heard.

During the pandemic, I struggled a lot with the anxiety of dying because of COVID and my journey to motherhood. I was writing love letters to her in the voice of me being in heaven, doing all the troubleshooting in case I died. But now, I've released that anxiety because we're both here. I released the thought of, oh my god, what if I die tomorrow? It's more of, if I die tomorrow, we made the memories. Every day, I'm more intentional about preserving time and making memories, because I now know the importance. The world can change drastically.

Now, what's most important in my life is to do good and live well. I want to make sure that I am doing good by my family, the communities that I serve, and the work that I do. And living well is taking care of myself and checking myself when I don't. And doing good and living well is the foundation of how I mother. I want to do good by my daughter. And doing that by my daughter is taking care of myself.

The pandemic showed me that we are on borrowed time. It enhanced the idea that we need to take everything for granted. It just was a reminder. These aren't new ideologies, but for me, it really set the tone. I'm a better woman and a better human because I'm resilient. I survived the pandemic emotionally and mentally. I'm strong as hell for giving birth and raising a kid during this time.

The Pandemic Changed How I Date

Image Source: Sabrina Kelley

Sabrina Kennelly, 31, was 25 years old, living her "best 'Sex and the City' life" in Chicago, going out every night and casually dating around. She thought she'd eventually get married and start a family because society told her that was the right path. Then, she got sick with COVID at the start of the pandemic. After almost facing death and dealing with that by herself, she's developed a new approach to finding love.

I had my big-girl corporate job and I had made a little community. I was going out every single night: there was Taco Tuesday, Wednesday was Hump Day, so that meant margaritas, and Thirsty Thursdays. If something happened with someone, great, but if not, I was just there to make out and try to get a free meal out of it.

Marriage was just such a foreign concept to me. I couldn't really relate to that. But down the road, I thought maybe that was a lifestyle that I could want. I grew up very religious, so that was something that I always was taught to do: procreate, procreate, procreate. That's what I thought society wanted me to do, and this was the course of life that I was supposed to follow.

Before the world shut down, my last dinner was at Chili's for happy hour with my coworkers. We didn't know at the time, but that's where I got very sick and eventually drove home to Minnesota with a fever. Once I got home, I just broke. I couldn't walk at all. I could barely breathe. I couldn't utter a word. For three weeks, I couldn't go up a stair or walk into the bathroom. There were definitely nights where I was like, this is it. I was on the brink of death. But after about a month, I started walking a little bit and getting better.

That summer, there were less cases, and my work started a hybrid schedule and places were opening up. I started thinking about dating again. But I felt a lot of guilt for being alive when I saw on the news constantly, all these people that were patron saints and then there's me, the random person that survived this. For a hot second, I coped with it by going out and partying even more. I thought, well, I almost died. It's time to put myself out there. Let's have a little bit more fun. I kind of went rogue. I was like, what's the harm in making out with a few more boys than my usual repertoire or trying out new things? But I realized that that wasn't the life that I wanted. I was surrounding myself with people that I truly didn't align with and it wasn't worth it anymore.

I learned a lot that summer and got sober. The liquid courage and push made me see people in a different light, and then seeing them with clear vision and goggles was like a Monet painting. I thought, what's the point of just having that random makeout? I can afford the fries now. I'd rather focus my energy on doing things that I like, rather than just going out to go out, in hopes of finding "the one" when we know that "the one" isn't going to be there anyways. I felt like I was back to being 15 again. I'd never really done the dating scene sober until the last two years.

I became more intentional with dating because all of a sudden, I was seeing everybody grow up. It went from everybody making out, dancing, and going out every night to all of a sudden, having three children, married, and doing the picket-fence life. I definitely feel like I was robbed. I went into the pandemic 25 years old, feeling like I was living my "Sex in the City" fantasy in Chicago. Then, all of a sudden, I woke up and everybody just became an adult. After the pandemic, I was 28 years old. I was like, not only do I have slim pickings in partners because everybody decided to partner up during the pandemic and become domesticated, but I'm not where I'm supposed to be in life. Selfishly, I wish I could have had more of those 20s to make more mistakes and be reckless.

And while I don't want children anymore - I know that without a doubt and every fiber of my being - I do know that I want to be more intentional and I don't think I need to surround myself with people all the time. I've realized I'm OK being by myself. I'd already done that during the pandemic.

I love love. I love the idea of love. I'm ready for it.

In 2022, I moved to Los Angeles. I realized that in the past, I had definitely used work as a crutch for my social life. But because I started a remote job, I had to be very intentional with going out more and putting myself out there. I started going to coffee shops and looking cute, not only for myself, but just because I want to. But if somebody likes it, great, I should be admired.

I try to go to one singles event a month, if not every other week. For me, it definitely takes out the stress because everybody is there to meet somebody, which is so cool. You don't have to go around looking for the ring. Not every dating event has been fun. I've definitely had to call out men, but at least I'm putting myself out there and I can go, you know what? I'm better off alone right now. Or, at least I tried and I'm having fun with it.

Seven months ago, I got a hysterectomy. I had a mass in my uterus and I had come to terms in the last couple of years that I didn't want kids. I was like, if this could happen to anybody, I'm the best candidate. I'm single. I don't want kids. This isn't going to be a terrible thing. Having done that whole process alone - I'd bled out, done all these appointments, and gone to scans alone - I knew that if I was capable of that and spending the pandemic alone, too, I could do anything. And if somebody wants to join me on the ride later on, that's great, too.

After having been sick for so long, I want to live the life that I deserve. Now, I'm looking for a life partner. I want to know what your aspirations are for life, what makes you happy, what your family situation is. I want to get to know you. I want to fall in love with more than just the person that I'm seeing, but the person that I'm getting to know. I love love. I love the idea of love. I'm ready for it.

The Pandemic Changed How I Work

Image Source: Tricia Fu

Tricia Fu, 30, had just turned 25 when the pandemic hit. She was a product manager at a big tech company, spending four hours commuting every single day. Her main priority was climbing the corporate ladder as quickly as possible. But after she found healing hobbies and focused on her physical and mental health during the pandemic, her mindset shifted. Now, she sees her job as something that simply "funds the things that I want to do in life."

My days would start at 4 a.m. I lived in San Francisco and was commuting to the South Bay, so I would take the 5 a.m. shuttle to work to miss traffic, then I would do a quick workout, and get to my desk around 8 a.m. I would try to leave the office by 4 p.m., but still be working on the shuttle, and finally get home around 6:30 and go to bed at 9, 9:30. I was on a bus for almost three hours every day.

Growing up and all throughout high school, I was in a competitive environment where success was measured by your achievements. After graduating, the same mental model pulled through, so I measured my success based on the level I was at my job and the number of promotions and raises I got. I was just grinding, grinding, grinding. My goal was to climb up the corporate ladder as quickly as possible. Career was the most important thing in my life, and I was always comparing myself to other peers.

When the pandemic hit and I didn't commute to work anymore, I didn't know what to do with those extra hours. I got a chance to focus on my body and well-being and took the time to cook, eat well, work out a lot, and sleep well. My life wasn't unhealthy pre-pandemic, but I didn't realize how much stress was actually on my body.

The summer of 2020, a friend was like, why don't we just work remotely from somewhere if we can? So my partner and I did a one-month hiking trip in Seattle. And that summer, we did a backpacking trip or a few-day hikes every single weekend. That did wonders for my mental health. The following winter, we did a month in Lake Tahoe, and that was when I learned how to ski. The following summer, we spent a month in Portland. Now, we try to do one or two "nomad" trips a year. We've done Paris, the Canadian Rockies, and Vancouver for a month.

My mentality about work has shifted to: it's just a job.

When we were returning to the office, I didn't want to go back to that commuting life, so I got a new job. And after two years, I decided to quit. I had saved up for six months to a year knowing that I was going to take this break because I was feeling burnt out from the last seven years in the corporate world. When you're stuck in this hamster wheel of corporate, sometimes you forget, "Oh, I exist, too. I should do things that make me happy." So I took the year to focus on those things: I took a 12-week ceramics course; I took tennis lessons; I took advantage of more nomad trips; and I spent a few weeks in Taiwan visiting my family.

The mentality shift during COVID had reminded me to take a step back. I had that time to reflect on things that I loved and wanted to do, so that contributed to ultimately taking this break and being OK with it. I gave myself a year and went back to work, mostly because the longer I stayed unemployed, I knew the harder it would be to find a job again. I also saved a pool of money for my unemployment, and that was dwindling. I wanted to go back to a big tech company, but where I was able to make enough money and find a job that supported the life that I want to live.

I want to show up at the office every day and do my best. I don't care that much about climbing the corporate ladder in X amount of years. I do want to gradually get promoted and see some sort of progress because that's just so innate in my personality and the environment that I grew up in. But I don't need to be racing with my peers to climb the corporate ladder. Since COVID and since this break, my mentality about work has shifted to: it's just a job.

Pre-pandemic, my career was a lot of my identity and a lot of my purpose. Now, I want my purpose in life and my identity to be other facets of my life that bring me a lot more joy. It's the traveling that I do, the hobbies that I picked up and want to invest more time in, the community of people that I surround myself with, my family, and my partner.

What's most important to me is my own health, both physical and mental. It was easy to lose track of that pre-COVID. And I'm not old by any means now, but I do feel like I start to hear more about health problems or even physical health issues. Health is so important. I would never give my health to my career.

And every few years, whenever I financially can, I want to take a long break. Now that I've done it, I think it's important to take a substantial amount of time off just to reset a little bit.

If I had a magic wand, the ultimate goal would be to retire early and live my life. I didn't really think about that before. I probably would have just kept climbing and climbing forever.

- As told to Yerin Kim

Yerin Kim she her is the features editor at PS, where she writes, assigns, and edits feature stories and helps shape the vision for special projects and identity content across the network. Originally from Seoul and currently based in New York City, she's passionate about elevating diverse perspectives and spreading cultural sensitivity through the lenses of lifestyle, style, wellness, and pop culture. A graduate of Syracuse University's Newhouse School, she has over six years of experience in the women's lifestyle space.

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