As of March 18, my family of five has been largely isolated in a rural haven in East Texas, alongside my in-laws. We reside in a bustling suburb of Houston, and when stay-at-home orders were enacted during my children’s spring break, we opted for a two-and-a-half-hour drive to what we fondly refer to as “the retreat.” This property boasts a spacious house with individual bedrooms and ample room to breathe, complemented by 36 acres of nature, featuring hiking trails, a pool, and a long, winding driveway ideal for scooter rides and artistic sidewalk chalk creations.
The primary motivation for our departure from Houston was the well-being of our oldest son, Lucas, who is nine and medically fragile. Lucas has profound disabilities, and our typical year is punctuated by multiple hospital visits for viral infections that most children would easily recover from at home.
In early March, I was consumed by two main worries regarding Lucas: 1. The potential threat of COVID-19, which could jeopardize his life, and 2. The risk of him falling ill with another virus, leaving us without access to a hospital bed. Although my concerns about hospital capacity have eased, as his doctors confirmed that our children’s hospital has available beds, the fear of COVID-19 still looms large as I consider the next steps for our family.
While children generally fare better with COVID-19 than adults, Lucas is not an average child. He spent two weeks hospitalized last year due to the flu and has faced recurrent hospitalizations for strep throat. We remain uncertain about how his body would react to a COVID-19 infection.
I fully recognize the privilege of being able to isolate our family for nearly three months. My partner, a high school teacher, successfully transitioned to conducting virtual classes from our retreat, and his income remained stable, providing him with quality time with the kids.
I manage two part-time jobs—one as a managing editor for a parenting website, which I can do remotely, and another as a receptionist at a pet care facility. My editor role has continued uninterrupted, and my employer at the pet care facility has graciously allowed me to take time off to focus on my family. Financially, we have remained stable, particularly with the assistance from stimulus funds.
As Texas begins to reopen, I’ve noticed a surge of friends and acquaintances returning to “normal life” on social media. From fresh hairstyles and manicured nails to dining on restaurant patios, the images are striking, yet I harbor no judgment. Most individuals are genuinely concerned for their communities, and their decisions reflect personal risk assessments that do not diminish the gravity of my family’s situation.
My current challenge lies in my own risk evaluation. How can I protect Lucas while also considering the well-being of our other family members? Despite the comforts of our temporary living situation, it cannot serve as a permanent solution. Ignoring my unkempt hair is one thing, but I cannot overlook the social and emotional needs of my children. They have had no interaction with peers for over three months, aside from awkward Zoom sessions, which hardly suffice.
My daughter, Emma, is set to attend sleepaway camp for the first time in July, and I yearn for a definitive answer about whether we should let her go. Unfortunately, clear answers are elusive, and the opinions I encounter online are often politicized, failing to align with our unique circumstances.
As the months pass, I ponder whether remaining in our comfortable isolation is truly a protective measure for Lucas or merely a manifestation of my indecision. I recognize COVID-19 as a significant danger, as evidenced by the grim statistics of over 100,000 American fatalities. However, it is challenging to gauge the long-term effects of this quarantine—both positive and negative.
Have I successfully safeguarded my son, or am I merely postponing our inevitable return to a world filled with risks? Is my children’s exposure to nature and outdoor activities beneficial, or are their social and emotional developments stunted in the absence of peer interaction?
The pandemic shows no signs of abating, and I must ultimately devise a strategy for reintegrating into society while managing the risks facing my vulnerable son. A perpetual lockdown is not feasible. Eventually, I will have to return to work, my children will resume school, and we will reconnect with friends and neighbors.
I only wish I had clarity on when the right moment will arrive to leave this safe haven—comfortable yet devoid of the richness of real life. For more insights on navigating these complex decisions, consider exploring this informative article and resources on in vitro fertilisation, as well as insights from experts on home insemination.
Summary
In this reflection, I discuss the challenges of isolating our medically fragile son during the pandemic while contemplating the implications of returning to normal life. The emotional and social needs of my children weigh heavily on my mind as I navigate the complexities of protecting my son while considering the well-being of our entire family.