A few days before Illinois issued its shelter in place order, I was talking on the phone with a friend about toilet paper hoarders and what would happen to bands if we did in fact have to quarantine. Everything would be online, she said, which I already knew because that’s how things were moving even before the pandemic. Instagram stories and YouTube channels and going live and Facebook, all that stuff. I can’t say I’m a fan.

For as long as I can remember, when people have asked me about music or playing in a band, the conversation always veers to the live show because “that’s why I do it,” I say. To me, music is a personal and live experience that gets all smashed up and then stored as some visceral experience fondly recalled to inspire future life decisions. It’s not meant to be low volume videos edited for iPhone viewing, or maybe I’m just not good at making those.

Towards the end of the conversation my friend accidentally reached deep down into my subconscious and gave voice to my anxiety of the last eight months when she said something along the lines of, “This is it - this is when we see who keeps making music because they have to.”

Eight months before, I had a baby with the guitarist in my band (my husband) and she is perfect. We played shows throughout the entire pregnancy, and after-set conversation with audience members revolved around the logistics of touring with a baby.

At the time I thought the hardest part about being a mom in a band with your partner would be navigating the unpredictability of low-level touring, but as it turns out the hardest part is all of it. In addition to dealing with all the first time mom stuff I hadn’t expected, I was dealing with all of the musical blockage I also hadn’t expected. How was I supposed to find the mental energy to compose a melody or lyrics? How was I supposed to find the time to sit down with a guitar? How was I even supposed to sit for that matter. All of it left me feeling like I had nothing left to contribute.    

It’s strange to think about that time now. It feels like I’m looking back, not only because it was before quarantine, but because just as lockdown happened the baby reached a more manageable age. Now I can’t tell if things would have started to feel better regardless of all this forced indoor time. She started napping at really predictable hours and was more content to sit in her play yard with some books. Now after breakfast I can just drop her in there and announce “Okay everyone! Mom in concert! One night only!” then plug into my pedal board and play for a very inattentive audience of one.

We brought all of our gear home from the practice space to avoid the back and forth and to be prepared for any internet performances we might have. Having everything crammed into one physical space has done strange things to my musical approach. Quarantine is the physical manifestation of my mental divide as a mother making music, articulating exactly what I found so difficult in the early months of new motherhood. Everything is condensed now; where we make music, the baby’s schedule, the feeling of loss-of-self. Being forced to wake up and confront these things day after day has allowed me to get to a place I think would have taken much longer otherwise. It’s about making time, not finding it. Now we have a routine, almost down to the minute, and I’m less depressed about telling myself it happens right now or it doesn’t happen today.

There are other silver linings; getting to have the best of both worlds, being with my daughter constantly but also doing what I love all in one place. Sure, going live with your amp at a three and your drummer projected on a screen behind you doesn’t feel exactly the same, but we’re all working with what we’ve got. And the baby sleeps through it so that’s a plus. Of course none of this is touring with a baby, a challenge I had been looking forward to and still think about with nervous anticipation. I get excited thinking about how the physical element of live shows and touring will affect this newly found calm of routine. It will be another series of annoying adjustments, but I think I’m prepared.

Miranda Winters is a song-writer and musician best known for her role as the indomitable vocalist / guitarist of Chicago powerhouse, Melkbelly.