Uninvited

Little Man spiked a fever at daycare two days ago. It was high enough for us to call the doctor and get an appointment for the next day. That night we got the news that it was Covid. 

It is thankfully a mild case, and Husband and I are showing no symptoms...except, I suppose, of anger and sadness. We have been so careful. We've done everything we could to keep ourselves and our beautiful boy safe, but we couldn't -- or rather, our efforts were not enough compared to so many who are living as if all is normal. I've heard so many people say that we can't live in a bubble forever, that life must go on. However, life doesn't just go on for those who are carrying the burden of trying to make this finally be gone.

To those who tell us, "Thankfully it's not serious!" -- yes, we agree. Getting to say that, though, is a privilege wrapped in survivor bias. Just because it isn't bad doesn't mean it couldn't have been. At night we panic when he goes too long without shifting or making a sound; instead of enjoying the peace, we deal with the anxiety of worrying he isn't breathing. Is that overdramatic? Maybe, but frankly I don't care. Lucky are those who don't have to deal with that fear.

To those who say it was inevitable Covid would enter our home -- I don't accept that. There are too many people whose choices (and their insistence that those choices come before all else) irrevocably changed the course of the pandemic. To simply shrug one's shoulders at the thought of getting sick astounds me. It didn't have to be this way, and it shouldn't be this way. 

Little Man will be ok. Husband and I will be ok. I can't, though, celebrate that while forgetting all of those who will not be ok. Having a relatively easy time of it cannot make us complacent or cloud our judgment. We will remain vigilant so that someone else doesn't have to lose sleep like we have.