It’s 3 a.m., and I’m struggling to find sleep on the pull-out couch at the children’s hospital. Suddenly, an alarm shatters the quiet, and the door bursts open as the night staff rushes into our small sanctuary. This time, I’m braced for the chaos: I scramble out from under the stiff blankets and into the glaring lights of the hallway. A symphony of shouted commands, the whirring of machines, and the sound of sneakers on the floor fills the air as the medical team works to stabilize my fragile, nine-week-old daughter, who lies helplessly in her bed. I feel paralyzed, praying endlessly in my pajamas as I stand in what became my home for two weeks during the winter of 2009.
Just three weeks earlier, I had been blissfully settled at home, eagerly awaiting Christmas with my newborn. I was hesitant to attend large family gatherings during the cold and flu season, so my husband decided to invite just a few close relatives to drop by the day after Christmas to exchange gifts. Unfortunately, one relative brought along a very sick toddler, thinking only of visiting the baby and delivering presents. I had been focused on my little one and didn’t realize until it was too late that a feverish child had been in our home for hours.
It didn’t take long for my three-year-old to fall ill, followed closely by the baby. I vividly recall pacing in the early morning hours, anxiously checking the thermometer and listening to her labored breaths. With my husband away on a work trip, I faced the ER alone, where I learned that my newborn had contracted a severe case of RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus). While this virus often presents as a mild cold in older children and adults, it can be particularly dangerous for infants, especially those under two months.
Her condition rapidly deteriorated into bronchial pneumonia, and standard treatments were ineffective. My husband rushed back from his trip, horrified and in shock, and together we waited helplessly as her condition worsened. After a grueling week in a tent filled with Albuterol and oxygen, along with constant breathing treatments that drained her tiny body, she finally started to show signs of improvement: she became hungry and fussy again, and we were finally allowed to hold her.
When we were discharged, the respiratory therapist warned us that we were fortunate; her illness could have easily taken a different turn. All the cilia in her lungs had been destroyed and would take three years to regenerate, so we were advised to keep her away from any respiratory illness until she was stronger. “Great,” I thought, “We have a preschooler and live in a busy city. How are we supposed to shield her from germs?”
The following weeks, months, and even years became a blur of breathing treatments, hand sanitizer, and attempting to explain to friends and relatives that visits required a series of health-related inquiries and thorough sanitization upon arrival. Some were understanding, recalling the desperate updates we had sent during our hospital ordeal. Others dismissed my requests as “irrational” or an inconvenience.
In hindsight, I recognize how insensitive and dismissive those reactions were, but at the time, I struggled to understand why a simple plea for protection could evoke such negativity. Sadly, I now see that attitude everywhere, triggering traumatic memories of feeling powerless to protect my daughter from that thoughtlessness—both when she first got sick and afterward.
When I see posts on social media from people defiantly discussing gatherings for birthdays and upcoming holidays, my heart races, and my adrenaline spikes. “Don’t they realize these gatherings can put others at risk?!” my mind screams. The more this virus spreads, the closer it comes to my children. My sweet girl, who still contracts illnesses more frequently and intensely than her siblings, has a heightened inflammatory response to certain invaders. I refuse to endure another moment beside her in a cold, impersonal hospital room as she struggles to breathe.
Yet, asking for masks and social distancing is often met with claims that I am “irrational” or “putting people out.” The relative who initially brought RSV into our home nearly twelve years ago is now an anti-masker. Friends fail to grasp why we are so firm about distancing during the current pandemic. My kids struggle to understand why so many seem indifferent to the health and safety of others.
I will continue to advocate for my family, laden with trauma but still holding onto a sliver of hope that we can look back on this time and recognize the urgent need to care for one another in a chaotic world. Until then, I will keep doing my part to protect you and yours.
For more insights on navigating health during these times, you can check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination.
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Summary:
The article recounts a mother’s harrowing experience when her newborn daughter contracted a severe respiratory virus during a holiday gathering. The narrative highlights the challenges faced while seeking to protect her child from illness, the emotional toll of hospitalizations, and the ongoing struggle to maintain health precautions in a world that often seems indifferent to the risks posed to vulnerable individuals. The mother emphasizes the need for empathy and understanding regarding health safety, particularly during gatherings.