I can still vividly recall the last time we stepped outside: March 21, 2020. It was only a week into our quarantine, and we had been cautiously taking short walks around our neighborhood or spending a little time in the communal backyard of our apartment complex. It had been a few days since our last outing, but the weather was stunning—one of those delightful early spring days when the sun feels warm against your skin and you start to see the first flowers timidly emerge from the grass.
So, we decided to let the kids play in the yard. My teenage daughter sat on a bench, looking a bit moody, while my husband and I engaged in a game of hide-and-seek with our seven-year-old son. I felt a wave of anxiety each time he brushed against the fence. After all, we share this space with numerous other families—what if someone infected with COVID-19 had touched it? Was I being cautious enough?
Despite my worries, I thought, “It’ll be okay.” I watched as my son laughed and ran around, and I felt a glimmer of hope that maybe quarantine wasn’t so bleak after all. But then the sirens began. We live in a suburb of NYC, right near the Queens/Nassau county line, and our street leads directly to two major hospitals. Shortly after that last time outdoors, the COVID-19 cases in our area started to surge dramatically.
Looking at the New York State COVID-19 tracker was alarming; positive cases soared from 5,000 to 10,000 in just two weeks. And that was only counting those who had been tested. With rising cases came hospitalizations and, tragically, deaths. As I write this, over 9,000 New Yorkers have lost their lives to this virus, with more than 5,000 additional probable cases.
During those weeks, as the numbers climbed and New York reached its peak, a sense of dread permeated the air. You didn’t need to follow the news closely to feel the weight of what was happening; the sirens outside our home were constant reminders of the crisis.
I also became increasingly aware of people I knew who had tested positive—friends from high school, staff from my children’s schools, and even some in my mother’s apartment building. Rumors circulated about local residents flouting social distancing measures, hosting large gatherings, and wandering the streets without masks, leaving behind discarded gloves as if they were oblivious to how their actions endangered others.
It was hard to discern the truth behind the rumors, but the data confirmed my fears: positive COVID-19 cases were escalating in my community. I decided it wasn’t worth the risk to let my children play outside, opting to keep them indoors for the foreseeable future.
If we had a private home with a backyard, I might have felt differently. However, since we must navigate through shared spaces in our apartment building to get outside, and since I couldn’t predict who else might be nearby, I didn’t feel comfortable taking that chance.
No one explicitly advised us to keep our kids in, but it was evident that the virus was spreading rapidly. Even if I made them wear protective clothing, kept them away from neighbors, and made them wash their hands thoroughly when they returned home, it still felt like too much of a gamble. My maternal instincts told me to stay cautious, and I listened.
When Spain announced its mandate for children to remain indoors, I noticed how quickly some reacted with disbelief. In areas with fewer COVID-19 cases, it’s hard to grasp why such stringent measures are necessary. If you have the privilege of a private backyard, you might be able to create a nostalgic “backyard quarantine” that your children will remember fondly, regardless of the pandemic’s severity.
Yet, many of us, especially in urban environments, lack that option and have had to keep our kids indoors or severely limit their outdoor time. And that’s perfectly okay. I’ve learned through this experience that kids are far more resilient than we often realize.
A few times, my son has asked why he can’t go outside. I explain that we’re waiting for the virus to calm down in our community and that staying in helps protect ourselves and our neighbors. I also remind him that we’re doing this to keep his grandparents—who live nearby—safe and healthy. I assure him that this is just temporary, and we will venture outside again soon. That reassurance is all he really needs.
Fortunately, the number of cases in New York has begun to decline, and experts seem cautiously optimistic that we are past the worst of it. I hope that’s true, and I can picture us enjoying our shared backyard again soon. I’ve even bought each of my kids adorable cloth face masks. When the time is right, we’ll make our grand return outdoors. By then, the sun will be even brighter, flowers will be in full bloom, and it will feel incredible.
In the meantime, if you’re interested in learning more about family planning and home insemination, check out our other posts at Home Insemination Kit or explore resources like Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit and NHS’s information on intrauterine insemination.
Summary
In summary, the decision to keep children indoors during the COVID-19 pandemic is rooted in concern for their safety amidst rising case numbers. While outdoor play is essential for kids, shared spaces and community risks have made it necessary for many families to limit activities. The hope remains that soon we can return to the outdoors, equipped with caution and care.
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