Looking back, that feels like one of the last big milestones of the Before Times — a wonderfully blissful and uncomplicated period. I'd skimmed a few headlines about a scary-sounding disease called Covid-19 but didn't worry too much about it. The virus seemed so far away on the other side of the globe. My biggest concern was adjusting to the idea of carrying a child. Our first ultrasound was scheduled for March 3. At eight weeks, our baby didn't yet look like a baby. According to the pregnancy website we consulted each week, she was only as big as a raspberry. Still, she had a heartbeat — and when we heard it, my partner, Billy, excitedly grabbed my hand. We laughed in surprise and flashed giant smiles at the ultrasound technician, who grinned back at us. That was our last prenatal appointment of the Before Times. On March 11, Covid-19 was declared a pandemic. At every clinic visit since that declaration, I've been greeted at the front door by a staffer who asks a series of questions about any potential contact with the virus and symptoms I might be experiencing. Billy is no longer allowed to attend appointments with me. Like everyone else at the doctor's office, I wear a mask. Now when I hear our daughter's heartbeat, there's no one to grab my hand. My smile stays hidden behind the fabric that covers my face. Prenatal appointments aren't the only thing that's different about what I imagined pregnancy would be like. Billy and I won't have a traditional baby shower, take a "babymoon" trip or enjoy any last hurrahs on the town with our childless friends. I haven't been able to attend in-person birth classes or visit friends who have recently welcomed their own babies to the world. I don't get to hold another infant and take notes ahead of time about how to wrap a proper swaddle or change a diaper like a pro. Instead, Billy and I are learning what we can from the safety of our home. We've read articles and books, signed up for online courses and accepted advice from friends. There's a stack of parenting and pregnancy books in the room that will soon be our daughter's nursery. The ubiquitous "What to Expect When You're Expecting," is among the paperbacks. Funny enough, there's no chapter on what to expect when you're expecting in a pandemic. Like so many of us, Dr. Lucy J. Puryear has had to adjust how she works in the pandemic. Puryear, a psychiatrist specializing in the emotional health of pregnant women and new mothers, and author of "Understanding Your Moods When You're Expecting," now sees all of her patients virtually. She has to help new parents readjust expectations around what their postpartum support systems might look like. And, more than ever, she has to take her own advice. "I tell patients to try not to get overwhelmed with when this is going to end," Puryear said. "Look at a week at a time — that's about the best we can do at the moment. Focus on what doctor's appointments you have, what's going on with your body, things like that that are tangible." "