OPINION: Our perfect two-year-old shouldn’t be a burden.

She is loved beyond measure by two parents who adore her.

Yet faced with her sister’s preparation for childbirth, an unexpected dilemma arises.

Where will my daughter go while her father and I are in the hospital?

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On paper, ours is the perfect scenario.

A few years ago we returned from Australia to Wellington to be closer to my partner’s family. They are eager to get involved in their granddaughter’s life, as are my partner’s two sisters.

Our seamless community includes the children of neighbors who happily roam from house to house playing together for hours. Childish laughter echoes from across the fence, and sometimes knocks on our front door come from horny girls wanting our daughter to join them.

A few minutes walk from the house, we pass the fields and the local school to the play center that my daughter and I go to three times a week.

Like most families, some days are tough.

Balancing work from home while meeting a toddler’s many needs presents challenges.

Then a few weeks ago the hospital staff called my pregnancy “complicated”, so now there is the added pressure of needing to “take it easy” … whatever that means. for a mother who works and stays at home.

We have no shortage of support offers.

Friends in our community regularly offer to “let us know if we can take care of her for a few hours”.

My daughter is the kind of kid who is regularly stopped in the street while strangers compliment her.

My well-meaning in-laws are planning on spending time with my daughter, doubling down on grandparent ties while providing me with rest, but they have to deal with poor health and pandemic worries.

No matter how much they offer their help, the most pressing concerns take precedence at the eleventh hour.

While she was 22 weeks pregnant and feared early labor, my daughter was suddenly displaced without knowing it.

The unpredictability of labor – narrowly overshadowed by the complications of childbirth – is pregnancy’s final hurdle.

Striking anytime, we’ll be watching our scared daughter’s eyes as she tries to figure out where mom is suddenly going.

His lack of understanding grips my heart.

Rather, should I be strong enough to give birth on my own?

Our daughter was born six weeks earlier and arrived within 90 minutes of my water breaking out on the couch at home.

She was in the midst of a breach.

I can still clearly see the doctor’s panic expression during childbirth.

This notion of childbirth alone brings its own anxiety.

I remember exercising control in the delivery room in an attempt to ensure the survival of my baby and cringe as my partner was asked to leave the room and my midwife disappeared.

The speed with which everything happened does not dilute the state of emergency.

I know other families are not as lucky as we are to see our daughter grow up

This time, the doctors gave us the foresight to prepare for an early birth.

Statistically speaking, we are told, a second birth often occurs much faster than the first.

In other words, we might not get a 90 minute warning.

Caring friends and family struggle with their own problems.

Can I really add to their relentless juggling of work, kids and financial pressure with an energetic toddler even more for a day or two?

Covid restrictions could mean we could be relegated to hospital for a few days without going out.

If our second born spends time in Neonatal Intensive Care (NICU), the time away from our daughter could be extended.

As I sit here writing, my daughter is holding her favorite llama on the couch in front of me.

She is comforted by “Dada”, absorbed into Peppa Pig, with no idea that there are changes on the horizon for her.

She’s glad mom is nearby.

Surely thousands of Kiwis face this dilemma every day?

I haven’t found a solution yet.

Perhaps the traumatic memories of my daughter’s birth coupled with the restrictions and stress of Covid complicated the decision.

Our most vulnerable family member is the subject of an impossible decision.

Giving birth alone or weighing on the other?