He Is Our Reason

The first time we nearly lost Jonah, he was five weeks old. I wrote about that here.  He made it through that first illness and we later learned he has asthma, but we are two parents who are healthcare providers, we are super vigilant, and we work really hard to keep him as well as we can. But. Jonah is also autistic. He still has sensory processing issues that mean sometimes he does not experience distress like others and (more importantly) does not report symptoms to us. So, after years of doing well and living life, in 2017, when he was 9 years old, it happened again.

It was just like the last time. It was a mild cold. One of us caught it at school or work and shared it around the house, no big deal. It's happened dozens of times. We are careful. We stay on top of Jonah's prescribed medications, and monitor him carefully, but we don't put him in a bubble or treat him like he's made of glass. It was a typical Saturday, and we were all moving through the house, getting chores out of the way. Corbin was mowing. I was doing laundry. Jonah was sitting on the sofa playing a game on his kindle, a few sniffles, no problems. The next time I walked past him, he had put his device down, he was sitting oddly, and he was breathing with his mouth open slightly. I just knew right away.

Things are hard right now. When Covid-19 first showed up in our country, there was a sense of solidarity, but now there is such division. People are facing real financial hardships, they are missing their friends, or they just want to get back to the things that make life feel recognizable and safe. I couldn't understand more. Truly. I am a nurse, and I know that the chances of a poor outcome for young children is pretty low. I am a numbers/science/data person, so I'm trying really hard to focus on that.

The trouble is, twice now, I've been the mom in the back of the ambulance with her boy, praying and panicking and bargaining and begging and more terrified than words can ever say. I just don't know what this virus would do to Jonah, not for certain. If his lungs shut down- you have to have air to live, that's it. The window is cruelly small. And Jonah goes from okay to not okay in a snap, and silently.

I see a lot of folks posting on social media about "living free" or "refusing to live in fear" along with group photos of parties or girl weekends or whatnot.  A couple things: A) I'm a well-educated nurse and I was a microbiologist before that, so I'm not sure that following state and local health mandates based on current health data is such a bad idea, and  B) You bet your ass I'm afraid of the back of that ambulance. What a blessing if that's not a memory you have to relive through all of this mess. Like you, my children mean everything to me, and Jonah, my sonshine, he is just much more at risk. And he's not alone. So many of us have high risk children to protect, or parents for that matter. (And no, heart attacks and car accidents do not factor into this argument, so just shush with that.)

So, before we go around calling our mask-compliant neighbors sheep or socialists or whatever- maybe take a moment to pause, give some grace, and consider that some of us are fighting different battles here. I know all too well that lots of people think we are nuts for keeping to our home since March 13th. Our own kids are frustrated and annoyed because they see their peers out with their parents' consent. But the girls are old enough to remember March of 2017 well, and they love their brother fiercely, as we do.

If you're struggling to make sense of ever-changing guidelines, and growing weary of making all of these sacrifices as the months go by, he is our reason.