Will walks in wearing a mask he made from a kitchen towel and two of my hair elastics. I roll my eyes at him. He takes off the mask and sneezes. “I sneezed in this general direction,” he says circling his hand in the air over Theo's extra swaddle. “I’ll wash this now.” He is on Twitter and checking the news 24/7. I'm concerned that this has been taking a toll on him. “What if we get it?” he says. “It’s not like the flu. People can’t get out of bed for days. We can’t ask anyone to help. How will we take care of the kids?” (We also have a four-year-old, who went to stay with my parents just before my due date. They will bring him back in a few days. Our plan is to quarantine ourselves for two weeks after my hospital stay, and then continue seeing my parents. We’ll need the help.) I tell Will that I don’t want to think about it right now.