First days

Jackson doesn’t go back to school for three more weeks because #EastCoast, but everyone’s back-to-school photos have me feeling alllll my feelings.

You see, Adelaide should be starting kindergarten this fall.

Should.

There will be a lot of these shoulds to come. There have been a lot a of shoulds I already let go of. But this one is hitting me surprisingly hard.

Maybe it’s because I thought I had already accepted it. At age three, when we decided not to send Adelaide to preschool, I knew school was going to look very different for her - but I still thought she would go someday. I still thought that someday I would take her first day of kindergarten picture, have the tearful drop-off experience and the excited pick-up moment. 

But that someday isn’t going to come.

I’m glamorizing it of course; Adelaide going to school would have meant the stress of finding the right school for her, planning and executing an IEP, coordinating her nurse to attend school with her, all her various therapies, not to mention physically getting her there. And all of this is without the looming COVID cloud hanging over all of our heads. 

On many an occasion I have breathed a sigh of relief that we do not need to worry about Adelaide in this age of COVID. It’s more than the fear of her catching the virus though. As pediatric ICU’s hit capacity across the country I am reminded of our frequent PICU stays. During non-COVID times, it was not uncommon for Adelaide to be transferred from the PICU down to the gen peds floor, before she or her doctors were ready, to make room for other critically-ill children. In our current capatalist medical system, ICU’s often run at near full capacity: empty beds = lost income. Not unlike a hotel. So, with any surge - like a pandemic - it is more than the virus-stricken patients that are put at risk. What would have happened to my daughter if she couldn’t have gotten an ICU bed in the first place? 

Every time I hear about a tense school board meeting where parents are fighting a mask mandate I am thrown back into Adelaide’s ICU room with the nurse pushing the ‘code blue’ button shortly followed by a flurry of white coats, machines and nurses surging into the room.

Every time I come across someone that insists that getting the vaccine is a personal choice, I wonder what choice Miguel and I would have made about sending Jackson to school if his sister were still alive. Because millions of people refuse to get vaccinated would I have needed to keep my son home to protect my daughter’s life?

These are the life and death tensions and decisions being lived out in homes across our country. Wearing a mask and getting a vaccine shouldn’t be a political, religious or culture-driven decision. It should be a medical and moral no-brainer, committed to for the safety of all humanity.

My daughter should be going to kindergarten this fall, but she isn’t and that hurts. However, there are still thousands of medically-complex, immune-compromised children and their families who need us to keep them safe - both at school and in their communities. Who need to know that all teachers and children will be wearing masks in school. Who need to know that a PICU bed will be available when, not if, they need it.

So, to everyone who prayed for our daughter and has since prayed for our family, who has shown us compassion and empathy and wondered how you could help. The answer is simple: wear a mask, put a mask on your child at school and get vaccinated.

Do not tell me it is only the children with underlying conditions that are getting sick and dying.

Do not tell me you need to do your own research when you don’t have a laboratory or PhD.

Do not tell someone you will pray for them when their disease or disorder is threatening their life and then turn your back on them when there is tangible action you can take to protect them. 

That is not how this works. 

I will never get to post a first day of school picture of my daughter…

But every other parent should be able to this year and all you have to do to make that happen is wear a mask and get a shot.