It’s 3 a.m., and I’m struggling to find sleep on the pull-out couch in the children’s hospital. Suddenly, a loud alarm shatters the quiet, and the door swings open as the night shift rushes into our little sanctuary. This time, I brace myself: I leap from the starchy blankets into the harsh hallway lights. A chaotic symphony of shouted commands, beeping machines, and sneaker sounds fills the air as the medical team works on my fragile, nine-week-old daughter, who lies limp and beautiful in her bed, fighting for her oxygen levels. I stand frozen in my pajamas, praying endlessly in the corridors that had become my home for two long weeks in the winter of 2009.
Just three weeks earlier, I had been joyfully nestled at home, eagerly awaiting Christmas with my newborn. I was hesitant about going to large family gatherings during flu season, so my partner offered to arrange for a few close relatives to drop by the day after Christmas to exchange gifts. Unfortunately, one relative brought along a very sick toddler, unaware of the risk involved. I had been so focused on my new baby that I didn’t realize until too late that a feverish child had been in my home for hours.
It started with my three-year-old getting sick, and then, inevitably, the baby followed. I still remember pacing in the early morning hours, anxiously checking the thermometer while 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). Though typically mild in older children and adults, it can be dangerous for infants, particularly those under two months old.
Her condition escalated rapidly into bronchial pneumonia, and standard treatments were not effective. My husband rushed back home, horrified and in shock, and we sat helplessly in the hospital as her situation worsened. After a week in a tent filled with Albuterol and oxygen, undergoing relentless breathing treatments that drained her tiny body, she finally began to show signs of recovery: she became hungry and fussy again, and we were finally allowed to hold her.
Upon our discharge, the respiratory therapist warned us how fortunate we were; her case could have easily taken a turn for the worse. With all the cilia in her lungs destroyed, which wouldn’t regenerate for another three years, we were advised to keep her away from any respiratory illnesses until she was stronger. “Great,” I thought, “How do we keep her sheltered from germs with a preschooler and living in a busy city?”
The following weeks, months, and even years were filled with breathing treatments, sanitizer, and attempts—often in vain—to explain to family and friends that visiting us meant they had to answer a series of health-related questions and sanitize upon entering. Some were understanding, recalling the updates I sent during our hospital ordeal and my desperate pleas for prayers. Others dismissed my concerns as “irrational” or accused me of being a burden.
Looking back, I can see how insensitive those reactions were, but at the time, it was baffling that a simple request for our child’s safety could evoke such hostility. Now, I see this same mindset everywhere, triggering painful memories of my efforts to protect my daughter from thoughtlessness, both when she fell ill and in the aftermath.
When I see social media posts from people defiantly discussing gatherings for birthdays and holidays, I feel my heart race and adrenaline spike. “Don’t they realize the risks?” I think anxiously. The more this virus spreads, the closer it gets to my children. My sweet girl, who still suffers from illnesses more frequently and severely than her sisters, has a heightened inflammatory response to certain invaders. I refuse to sit beside her again while she struggles to breathe in a sterile hospital environment.
Yet, asking for masks and social distancing seems to be perceived as “irrational” or “inconvenient.” The relative who first brought RSV into our home nearly twelve years ago is now an anti-masker. Friends fail to grasp why we are so stringent about distancing during the current pandemic. My children are left confused by the apparent indifference towards the health and safety of others.
I will remain steadfast in my approach, carrying the weight of trauma and sorrow, yet still holding onto hope that one day we can reflect on this period and recognize the urgent need for compassion in a chaotic world. For now, I will continue to care for my family and others.
For more on related topics, check out this post on home insemination or explore CCRM IVF’s blog for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination. Additionally, if you’re interested in expanding your family, consider this artificial insemination kit.
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