Updated: June 4, 2020
Originally Published: June 4, 2020
Since mid-March, my family of five has been largely isolated at my parents’ rural property in East Texas, far from our busy life in Houston. When the stay-at-home orders were implemented during my children’s spring break, we made the decision to drive two and a half hours to what we lovingly refer to as “the ranch.” This expansive property features a spacious house with separate bedrooms for everyone and offers 36 acres of outdoor space, including hiking trails, a pool, and a long driveway ideal for scooter riding and sidewalk chalk art.
The primary motivation behind our retreat was the health and safety of our oldest son, Lucas, who is nine years old and medically fragile. Lucas has profound disabilities, and our typical year often includes multiple hospitalizations due to viral infections—illnesses that most children manage to recover from at home.
In early March, I grappled with two significant fears for Lucas: 1. The possibility of him contracting COVID-19 and the severe threat it posed to his life, and 2. The risk of him falling ill with another virus when hospital resources might be limited. While I no longer worry as much about the second concern—thanks to reassurances from his doctors about available hospital beds—I remain anxious about the first as I contemplate our family’s future.
It’s crucial to note that children generally fare better than adults when infected, but Lucas is not a typical child. He spent two weeks in the hospital last year with the flu and has faced repeated hospitalizations for strep throat. We are uncertain how his body would react to a COVID-19 infection.
I recognize the immense privilege we have to isolate ourselves during this time. My husband, a high school teacher, transitioned to online classes without any financial strain. I work two part-time jobs, one as a managing editor for a parenting website and the other as a receptionist at a pet care facility. My editing role has remained uninterrupted due to its remote nature, and my employer has generously allowed me to take time off to focus on my family. Thanks to stimulus support, we have remained economically stable.
As Texas begins to reopen, I’ve noticed my social media feeds filled with friends returning to their pre-pandemic lives. There are selfies showcasing fresh hairdos, manicured nails, and dinner gatherings on restaurant patios. I see people back at gyms and kids resuming activities, and while these images are somewhat jarring, I hold no judgment. Most people are genuinely concerned for their communities, and their choices reflect their personal assessments of risk.
My struggle now lies in evaluating our own risk. How can we protect Lucas while also considering the needs of our other children? Although our current living situation is comfortable, it’s not sustainable in the long run. My children have had no real interaction with their peers for nearly three months, aside from awkward Zoom calls that hardly fulfill their social needs.
My daughter is scheduled to attend sleepaway camp for the first time in July, and I find myself yearning for a definitive answer on whether we should allow her to go. Unfortunately, there are no clear answers, and the opinions I encounter online often lack relevance to our unique context.
As the months pass, I ponder whether remaining isolated is simply an effort to safeguard Lucas or a manifestation of my indecision. I acknowledge the serious threat posed by COVID-19 and cannot overlook the tragic loss of over 100,000 lives in the U.S. However, assessing the real impacts of this quarantine—both positive and negative—remains a challenge.
Have I truly protected my son, or am I merely postponing an inevitable return to a world that will always harbor risks for him? Is their exposure to nature more beneficial than the stunted social and emotional growth caused by their lack of peer interaction? This pandemic is not going away anytime soon; we must eventually navigate life in society while managing the risks to our vulnerable son. A perpetual lockdown isn’t feasible—my job and my children’s schooling will eventually resume, and we will need to reconnect with friends and neighbors.
I just wish I could determine the right moment to leave this safe haven—secure yet devoid of the richness of real life. For more insights on this topic, you can check out this blog post at Home Insemination Kit. Additionally, for more information on navigating the complexities of family life, visit Facts About Fertility. You might also find valuable guidance at Intracervical Insemination.
Summary:
This article reflects on the challenges faced by a family isolating themselves for three months to protect their medically fragile son from COVID-19. As they consider how to reintegrate into society while ensuring their son’s safety, they grapple with the emotional needs of their other children and the impacts of prolonged isolation. The narrative emphasizes the delicate balance between safety and social engagement amidst ongoing uncertainty.