COVID.
March 12th, I sat down with the girls’ principal and made the decision to pull them both out of school for the remainder of the school year or until COVID was under control. March 15th, it was decided by the Health Minister and Education Minister that schools would close until the fall.
As the numbers soared in our small town, I felt slightly uneasy, but not overwhelmed. I knew that the girls were safe. We were ordering our groceries online, we didn’t plan any play dates, we stayed home. We lysol wiped everything that came through our door and I even sprayed the girls down once in a while just to be safe. TOTALLY KIDDING, but I was tempted.
We remained in total isolation for almost three months, except for our cohort family, which kept us all sane, especially the girls. The decision was made by my sister and brother in law, that they would only spend time with our family, so this made the days a bit smoother and not so long. Having a child with an exceptionality, one of my biggest fears, besides her health, was her losing those social skills that we had been working on for so long. Adele had come such a long way, and then she would no longer be seeing her friends at school, her teacher, her educational assistants and her principal. Those interactions would be gone.
When our mayor and the Health Minister told everybody to stay home and be well, that is what we did. I sort of felt like I was living the dream. My children were safe at home with me and doing well. They were happy and healthy, they participated in zoom meetings, completed school work and were thriving. I didn’t feel a lot of pressure since the rules were set in place. I was being told to stay in. Most ‘school’ days went well and I didn’t put the expectation on myself that Adele needed to sit for an hour and complete work. I wanted her to participate in the 5 weekly zoom meetings and then anything on top of that, was a bonus.
Our numbers are going down.
The province is now in stage 2 of relaunch. We are told that we can go out to the zoo, we can go to the park and spend time with friends. We can participate in community outdoor events, we can go to restaurants, worship gatherings and birthday parties. We should all practice physical distancing and it is encouraged that we wear masks to protect ourselves and others. I wear a mask when I go out. I know that it’s not comfortable and I know that it’s hot and I know that people are more worried about how they look over their health and that of others. It’s a shame.
What do you do when you have a child with an exceptionality?
Our community has been forgotten and neglected during COVID. We lost our supports. We lost the connection. We weren’t given resources. Instead, the government removed funding for kindergarten children and shut down 14 out of 16 preschools for children with exceptionalities. Funding was cut across the board for those with a disability.
I call this the in between shit stage. I don’t know what to do and I feel my anxiety and fear escalate daily. My child won’t wear a mask, she loves to hug and touch others, she doesn’t understand boundaries and personal space. She doesn’t understand physical distancing and if you told her to not touch or hug a friend, this would make her sad and confused. She is a lover! I can’t explain COVID to her because she doesn’t get it.
In the fall, when they send students back to school, what do we do with our at-risk child?
A friend, who is a nurse practitioner, recently sent me a message…
“Adele is so high risk, that she wouldn’t do well if she caught it. It creates such an inflammatory response in the body. Some ICU doctors and nurses have said that it turns your blood to a black slush. Adele shouldn’t go back to school, until there is a vaccine.”
To all the moms out there who are feeling overwhelmed and fearful during this in between shit stage, I feel you and I hear you and I see you. I am right here with you, feeling emotions of uncertainty. As the world begins to get back to their routines, I get that you are sitting at home keeping your child safe and questioning if you are being too over-protective and if you should let your guard down, even just a little.
I understand your fear of attending a family dinner and worrying that you are being judged by others around you.
I see you spending time on zoom with your doctor, googling your child’s medical diagnosis and how their body will respond to COVID. You have cancelled medical appointments at the hospital because you just can’t step foot into a medical building right now.
I see you crying at night.
I see you not caring which stage we are at, your child’s life is at stake and you will do anything to protect the ones you love.
I see you worrying about what others think. I get it.
I see you wondering about what it will look like for your family in the fall, when you need to work, you don’t know if the best decision is to keep your child at home, but the fear of having a caregiver come into your home…it’s just all too much. It’s too much.
I see you trying to manage your own mental health and well-being, while trying to take care of your child and family. Groundhog day is taking a toll on all of us. Reaching out to others and professionals is a sign of strength. Don’t forget that.
My mantra right now, is that we need to take this one day at a time and I know that we are all doing our absolute best. Breathe.
We get to make the decisions regarding our at-risk children. We get to make the call and others don’t get to have an opinion on the decisions we make. Sounds a bit harsh? It’s your child. You do what is best and you do what makes you feel comfortable.
We will get through this in between shit stage. We will get through all the stages. It might not be with grace and poise, but we will get through it.
I hear you. I feel you. I see you.