I never envisioned myself as a homeschooling parent. It wasn’t a role I aspired to take on. I cherish my daughter and love being a mom, but teaching was never my forte. However, a few weeks ago, I found myself enrolling in a local homeschool co-op and diving deep into curriculum options for the upcoming year.
My daughter was diagnosed with Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA) when she was just four years old, following a series of frightening months filled with emergency room visits and extensive tests. JIA was ultimately the least alarming of the potential diagnoses we faced, which had ranged from brain tumors to leukemia and multiple sclerosis. As a single mother, those months were some of the most challenging in my parenting journey.
JIA is an autoimmune disorder that causes the immune system to attack a child’s joints. Before her diagnosis, my little girl struggled to walk, had difficulty going up stairs, and her hands and wrists were losing functionality. Once we had clarity on the issue, she began a weekly regimen of chemotherapy to help regulate her overactive immune system. I administer her injections at home, and she typically handles it like a trooper. While the medication occasionally gives her headaches and makes her Sundays a bit tough, it has successfully halted her disease’s progression, allowing her to return to the joyful playfulness she had before getting sick.
This treatment has been a miracle for us.
However, this journey has not been without challenges. The combination of her condition and treatment has left her immunocompromised. Initially, this reality frightened me. Yet, as we adapted, I found it primarily meant that when she did get sick, her recovery process was longer than that of her peers. I learned to seek medical advice early and ensure she had ample time to rest as her body fought off infections.
Over three years on this treatment plan, we were fortunate. Though she faced several illnesses, none required hospitalization. I adopted a balanced approach, allowing her to enjoy life without undue fear of germs, only encouraging her to slow down when illness seemed imminent.
Then COVID-19 struck.
As part of her treatment, my daughter undergoes bloodwork every three months. Her last appointment was on March 13, just after the first COVID-19 case was reported in Alaska. The office was eerily empty, and her doctor informed me that people had been canceling appointments all day. At that point, we weren’t yet wearing masks, as public health officials were still advising against them. However, her doctor was unequivocal in her advice: “Keep her in a bubble if you can. Complete lockdown until we learn more.”
Initially, I resisted. I had worked hard to overcome my fears for my daughter’s safety and allow her to have a normal childhood, despite her condition and treatment. But now, I was being advised to isolate her indefinitely.
As a single working mom with an only child, the thought of moving forward without our supportive friends felt impossible. How could I manage without any help?
Eventually, I accepted the doctor’s guidance because I trust her implicitly. She has always been reasonable and supportive of my desire for my daughter to live as normal a life as possible. If she was recommending extreme precaution, there had to be a valid reason.
So, we began our lockdown. I ordered groceries for delivery, sanitized everything before bringing it inside, avoided restaurants, and took our dogs on remote hikes to minimize exposure to others. I juggled my daughter’s education and my work by sacrificing sleep, while my daughter learned to entertain herself for hours.
To my surprise, she adjusted remarkably well. I, on the other hand, struggled and eventually sought help from my own doctor to manage the anxiety and depression that ensued.
The most challenging aspect was the uncertainty of when this situation would end. I missed my friends, our support system, and, most importantly, the absence of fear for my daughter’s safety each time we stepped outside.
After ten weeks in lockdown, I consulted with my daughter’s doctor again, hoping for a shift in guidance. Instead, she advised me, “If you could keep her in a bubble for the next year, that is what I would suggest.” My heart sank as she recommended I prepare to homeschool my daughter, regardless of whether schools reopened.
This was the answer I dreaded but had been steeling myself for.
While I see friends advocating for schools to return to normal, claiming that “our kids deserve a normal life,” I have to suppress the urge to respond, “My child deserves to live.”
I understand that their intentions are not malicious. They are not responsible for my daughter’s heightened risk. However, I wish more people would grasp that the restrictions in place are designed to protect vulnerable individuals like my daughter, along with the ten million others who are immunocompromised and the over 55 million elderly individuals.
That amounts to nearly 25 percent of our population who are at significant risk of severe complications or death from COVID-19. Yet, while I prepare to work full-time and homeschool, others are complaining about mask mandates and reduced school hours. They argue against encouraging safe practices for children while playing and proper hygiene protocols.
“Our kids shouldn’t have to live in fear,” they assert.
I agree, but the reality is that our children shouldn’t have to witness the loss of friends and family either. This is a genuine concern worthy of fear, and ignoring it will not make it disappear.
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Summary:
As a single mother of an immunocompromised child, the COVID-19 pandemic has forced me into the challenging position of homeschooling. The need for extreme caution has become paramount in protecting my daughter’s health. While I understand the desire for normalcy, the reality is that the safety of vulnerable individuals must take precedence.