Photos: A look at life at home in St. Louis during the COVID-19 pandemic

Childcare has become a concern for Drs. Aaron and Christie Pickrell. Of their three kids—6-year-old Kinsley, 3-year-old Brooks, and toddler Hudson—two recently contracted undiagnosed fevers. To play it safe, Christie, an emergency physician, and Aaron, who’s a hospitalist, alternated their shifts to care for them at home. Meanwhile, Christie says, she worries about her own safety at work and fears for her patients infected with COVID-19. “We went into medicine to cure illness,” she says. “To know that there’s no cure is a horrible feeling.”

Kailey and Michael Pillman’s daughter, Autumn, was born in December 2018 with biliary atresia, a rare liver disorder. After a year of waiting for the right organ donor, they chose another path: Michael would donate a portion of his liver. When Autumn grew sicker earlier this year, the family made it to a hospital in Pittsburgh, where she got the transplant on February 13—just weeks before such elective procedures were postponed because of COVID-19. “I think we might not have her here if she hadn’t made the cut,” says Kailey.

Dr. Mai Vo recently had what she calls “a meltdown.” She noticed the number of COVID-19 patients ticking up at the hospital where she trains kidney doctors. She discussed it with her husband, Dr. Giao Vuong, a gastroenterologist. They needed a lawyer, she told him, to draft their wills and appoint guardians for their children, 8-year-old Catly and 4-year-old Luc, should the worst come to pass. But mid-conversation, she stopped, walked across the street to the house of her sister, Dr. Mimi Vo, sat down, and cried. Hard. “I can’t even remember the last time I cried like that,” she says. “Then I wiped up my tears and went home. My children don’t need to see me crying.”

Lucas Rouggly didn’t launch his nonprofit, LOVEtheLOU, in North St. Louis a decade ago as a grocery delivery service. Its focus has been teen mentoring, small-business development, and housing. Last year, for example, the nonprofit rehabbed this house and gave it to the family of Tawana Lawson on a rent-to-own basis. Yet in the wake of COVID-19, Rouggly asked his scheduled volunteers whether they might want to collect food instead. They came through—big-time.

Last year, nonprofit LOVEtheLOU rehabbed this house and gave it to the family of Tawana Lawson on a rent-to-own basis. In the wake of COVID-19, the nonprofit asked volunteers whether they might want to collect food. Lawson helped coordinate grocery delivery for elderly and immunocompromised residents in the area, some of whom passed along the names of others facing tougher circumstances. “That was really encouraging,” says LOVEtheLOU founder Lucas Rouggly.

Drs. David and Alison Curfman already had their hands full with three kids—7-year-old Ben, 5-year-old Kate, and 3-year-old Josh—when baby Meg was born February 2. Then COVID-19 hit. David, a neurologist, saw a drop in patient volume, which freed him up to watch the kids more. But Alison came off maternity leave six weeks early to return to work. Thanks to an emergency lifting of regulations, virtual care is exploding; Alison, who specializes in pediatrics, is helping speed it along. Yet she will soon move to the emergency department, where she is at risk of exposure to the novel coronavirus. Says Alison, “I wake up at night fearful of leaving my children.”

Quinn Metzler, the first-born child of Kat Hinkle and Owen Metzler, arrived prematurely on Leap Day, February 29—right before hospitals banned visitors and local governments issued stay-at-home orders. Therefore the baby’s grandparents, aunt, and first cousin were able to visit during Quinn’s first week. Since then, though, the family has come no closer than the couple’s storm door. Hinkle’s mother baked banana nut bread, placed it in a bag, and hung it on the door handle; Hinkle’s niece, who’s almost 3, has tried to kiss the baby through the glass. She asks questions like “Why can’t you come out?” Hinkle says, “It’s hard to explain it to her in a way that’s not scary.”

Not everyone under a stay-at-home order feels cooped up. Blaine Deutsch lives on nearly an acre close to Queeny Park. He has a backyard vegetable garden so robust that it relieves him from buying produce in the summer. He also keeps two beehives and some hens (though, as a vegan, he donates their eggs to friends). A creative director at a large corporation, Deutsch quickly transitioned to working from home; his wife, Laura Neuwirth, is learning to use tech in her role as a special education teacher. With or without COVID-related restrictions, Deutsch says, they’d be outside a lot. “I was just out this morning, letting the hens out,” he says, “and I saw that the radishes and turnips are starting to sprout.”