The Life I Never Wanted You to Live

A season of loneliness and isolation is when the caterpillar gets it's wings.  Remember that the next time you feel alone.  Mandy Hale


Well I am pretty sure everyone's world has been shaken.  Over the past week I have seen every reaction from people going to underground bunkers to people out licking street lamps to prove we are all overreacting.  (Yes it was gross, no I don't think I will understand people as long as I live.)


Understand that this isn't what I wanted for humanity.  What many of you have had to live is my life.  A choice we made willingly without fully understanding the whole package when we took on this little one eight years ago. 

When I sat weeping in the hospital three days after she came home and we almost lost her as quickly as we got her I was told she was fragile.  Like spun glass, a knock of the shelf of life could kill her.  Even though her will is strong her body is weak.  She needed to be protected at all costs.  I vowed if she made it home I would do whatever it took.  She did and I kept that vow. 



At first it was hard.  It was hard to explain to family that even if you had "been on tamiflu" for a few days you were still putting my daughter's life at risk.  Family gatherings had to be short and small.  Outings had to be measured in pros verses risks.  Often Marvin and Shannon would go to events while I stayed behind with Cary Lynn.



After a time social isolation became our norm.  I stopped caring and worrying so much about what others thought or felt about it.  It was right for our family and my daughter grew and thrived.  It would (and still does) get lonely at times, but I have embraced what needs to be done and never regretted the choice I made. 



But now many of you have to live this life too.  Some of you are angry, some are scared, and some are probably hunting for a street lamp to lick. It's a topsy turvy time and the world has gotten a lot scarier. 



This is not what I wished on you.  My isolation was chosen.  Yours was forced.  There is a world of difference in this.  I am sorry that you have to do this.  I am sorry that you have to live my life for this season.  It's not an easy life to have thrust on you.  To be an observer and not an active participant in life. 



But the good news for you is that this is only for a small season.  This will come to an end.  The isolation, worry, and loneliness will end.  I am hoping that it will end soon.  That you can go back to work, school, movies, Disney, and large gatherings. 



When you do go back, remember me and many other parents of medically fragile children.  What will end for you we will willingly continue.  I will celebrate with you as you go about your lives but I am hoping that you will remember in the back of your mind that for some of us, this season will continue. 



I don't say this to make you feel sorry for us.  I am NOT sorry for our choice.  I only hope you will have better understanding of why we say no to get togethers, social events and why it's important to keep our kids safe from germs that may be a simple cold for you but lethal to us and cut us some slack.  Our daughter matters.  Her health matters.  So does yours.  Stay safe and we will all get through this together. 





- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Amy Fields is a mom, advocate and always looking for missing socks.  You can find her on her blog  https://manykindsoffams.blogspot.com/