It’s 3 a.m., and I find myself wide awake on the pull-out couch at the children’s hospital. The eerie silence is shattered by a sudden alarm, and our door swings open as the night shift bursts in, invading our small sanctuary. This time, I’m ready; I hastily emerge from the stiff blankets into the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway. A chaotic blend of shouted commands, the beeping of machines, and the sound of sneakers echoes around me as the medical team attempts to stabilize my fragile nine-week-old daughter, who lies helplessly in her bed. I stand frozen, a mere spectator, praying incessantly in my pajamas during what would become my home for the next two weeks in the winter of 2009.
Just three weeks earlier, I had been cozily awaiting Christmas with my newborn. With the cold and flu season in full swing, I was reluctant to attend large family gatherings. My husband assured me he would arrange a small visit from a few close family members the day after Christmas to drop off gifts. Unfortunately, one relative brought along a very sick toddler, completely disregarding the potential risks. I was so absorbed in caring for my baby that I didn’t realize a feverish child had been in our home for hours until it was too late.
It wasn’t long before my three-year-old fell ill, followed by the baby. I vividly recall pacing the floor in the early hours, anxiously checking the thermometer and listening to her labored breaths. With my husband away on a work trip, I faced the emergency room alone, where I learned that my newborn had contracted a severe case of RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus). While typically mild in older children and adults, RSV can be life-threatening for infants, especially those under two months old.
Her condition rapidly escalated to bronchial pneumonia, and the standard treatments were ineffective. My husband returned from his trip, joining me in the hospital, where we waited in horror as her health continued to deteriorate. After a grueling week spent in an oxygen-filled tent, receiving nonstop breathing treatments that exhausted her tiny body, she finally began to show signs of improvement. She became hungry and fussy again, and we were finally permitted to hold her.
Upon our discharge, the respiratory therapist cautioned us that we were incredibly fortunate, as her case could have easily taken a turn for the worse. With all the cilia in her lungs damaged and not expected to regenerate for another three years, we were warned to keep her away from any respiratory illnesses until she was stronger. “Fantastic,” I thought, “We have a preschooler and live in a city teeming with germs. How are we supposed to shield her from illness?”
The subsequent weeks, months, and even years were consumed by breathing treatments, hand sanitizer, and my incessant attempts to explain to family and friends that anyone wanting to visit would need to answer a series of health-related questions and sanitize upon arrival. Some were understanding, recalling the countless updates I had sent about our harrowing ordeal, while others dismissed my requests, calling me “irrational” or claiming I was inconveniencing them.
Looking back, I can see how insensitive those reactions were, but at the time, I struggled to comprehend how such a simple request to safeguard our child could elicit negativity. Unfortunately, I now witness this same mentality everywhere, which brings back traumatic memories of feeling powerless to protect my daughter from thoughtlessness.
When I see posts on social media featuring defiant or complacent individuals discussing gatherings for birthdays and holidays, my heart races, and my adrenaline spikes. “Can’t they see these gatherings are a danger to others?!” I think to myself.
The more this virus circulates, the closer it gets to my children. My sweet girl, who continues to suffer from illnesses more frequently and with greater severity than her sisters, has a body that occasionally overreacts to certain infections. I refuse to sit beside her again in a stark hospital ward while she struggles to breathe.
Yet, asking for masks and social distancing from friends and family is often met with criticism. The relative who initially brought RSV into our home nearly twelve years ago is now an anti-masker. Friends fail to understand our insistence on distancing during the ongoing pandemic. My children struggle to grasp why so many people appear indifferent to the health and safety of others.
I remain committed to doing what’s necessary; although filled with trauma and sorrow, I cling to a flicker of hope that one day we’ll reflect on this moment in time and recognize the urgent need to look out for one another in a chaotic world. Until then, I pledge to continue caring for you and yours.
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Summary
This account highlights a mother’s harrowing experience when her newborn contracted RSV during a seemingly safe holiday gathering. It details the emotional and physical struggles faced by her family as they navigated the challenges of caring for a critically ill infant. The narrative serves as a reminder of the importance of protecting vulnerable children from illness, particularly in the context of social gatherings during cold and flu season.