Really? Now? After more than two years of isolation and avoidance. After the allowance of vaccinations while still nursing — hoping that antibodies would pass. Only in some moments — not ever, really — feeling one hundred percent sure. Of all the painstaking troubles, trials, and tribulations, it finally caught up to us. After a clear and present evasion all this time, Covid-19 made its (so very unwelcome) way into our home. 

We knew exactly where and how. Our activities had returned to a sense of pretend normal. Oh, to be out and about in the world again. Life was full of near misses, aired with many a “phew.” And this didn’t even start slow and steady, to be honest. We didn’t even know the symptoms were there. Until we realized — and they were full blown. 

My little one complained of a tummy ache, and, in truth, I didn’t think too much of it. I had made a homemade veggie purée for her earlier, so I passed it off for gas. Later on that afternoon, her dad complained of a headache. “I have a fever,” he said. He, the one who never gets sick. Never. (He’s one of those anomalies who works too hard and goes too fast to ever catch up with himself, let alone a cold.) So when he mentioned his fever, my heart sank. Upon speaking to a doctor, we learned that a “tummy ache” is a Covid symptom for children. 

We slept maybe a total of two hours in three days. Or at least that’s how it felt. We alternated between taking care of ourselves and pulling shifts with the little. Just when I was planning to wean her from breastfeeding, she needed a sense of comfort the most. So here I was, Covid-19 positive, breastfeeding, while on my cycle, of course, staying up all night to monitor fevers and breathing. 

So no, my body didn’t feel like a wonderland that week. But, OK, sure, I’m positive it is that (thanks for the lyrics). More than that, though, my body is a miracle.

It’s a miracle to still be standing, after all we’ve been through. Not just our family’s bout with Covid, but everything we’ve been through. Collectively and individually. To be breathing, inhaling peace, and exhaling whatever it is that doesn’t serve me. I think about how just two years ago I went through an intense seven-layer surgery, also known as a C-section, to bring “the miracle of life” into this world. And here we are, being reminded that miracles happen every day. 

Have you told yourself that lately? I’ve started to remind myself of this after our recent Covid experience. Being in touch with myself reminds me of the miracle that is my body. Gratitude helps me feel it. Attempting to be more present is yet another path to being aware of this miracle.

Whether down and out with Covid or enduring a C-section or constantly giving of myself to the sacrifices motherhood requires, my body is proving to be the miracle I never knew I needed.

Amber Michele
Originally from Brooklyn, New York, Amber has lived in the Greater Boston area for double digits now. In previous years she spent her time commuting for auditions and SAG-AFTRA work between New York City and Boston. In May 2020, she became a mom to her daughter, who has kept her on her toes - and brings her joy ever since. Constantly on the lookout for "ways to elevate her every day," and yours too, she completed her yoga teacher training in 2021. An important reminder to find and create movement each and every day. Which is easy enough, with her love for - and a household full of music. From Biggie to Beethoven, to Billie Holiday and beyond, there's always sounds and dance parties to be had. Always keeping an eye out for creative adventures in and around New England, Amber will jump at any chance to visit the local farms to see the goats and simply be outdoors. Otherwise, she's often found by the window, calligraphy pen in hand, practicing her favorite craft. After enjoying a hiatus from the restaurant & hospitality industry while being a SAHM mom, Amber is currently working — and learning — in the world of tech. Amber will always hype: brunch and simply ALL food, dancing — even in the grocery store, travel and any chance to be at the beach. You can miss her with: cold wet weather (even though she was born in January?!) and horror movies. Look for more thoughts and musings from Amber at