Since March 18, my family of five has been largely secluded at my in-laws’ serene property in the East Texas Piney Woods. Residing in a bustling suburb of Houston, we decided to make the two-and-a-half-hour journey to what we lovingly refer to as “the retreat” during our children’s spring break when stay-at-home mandates were implemented. This expansive property features a spacious house with separate bedrooms for everyone, alongside 36 acres of outdoor space that includes hiking trails, a pool, and a long driveway, perfect for scooter rides and chalk art.
The primary reason for our retreat from Houston was our eldest son, Liam, who is nine and medically fragile. Liam is profoundly disabled, and our typical year often includes multiple hospital visits for viral infections that most children would easily recover from at home.
In early March, I was consumed by two main fears regarding Liam: 1. The possibility of him contracting COVID-19, which could potentially threaten his life, and 2. The risk of him becoming ill with another virus when hospital resources might be stretched thin. Fortunately, I no longer worry as much about the latter, as his medical team has assured me that there are ample hospital beds available, but fear of the former still haunts me as I contemplate our future.
While I understand that most children are less impacted by COVID-19 and tend to recover more easily, Liam’s situation is unique. He was hospitalized for two weeks last year due to the flu and has faced repeated admissions for strep throat. We simply don’t know how his body would react to a COVID-19 infection.
I recognize how fortunate we are to have the ability to isolate ourselves during these challenging times. My partner, a high school teacher, successfully wrapped up his academic year through Zoom classes here at the retreat, with his income remaining stable. I manage two part-time roles—one as a managing editor for an online parenting platform and another as a receptionist in a pet care facility. My editorial position has always been remote, and my boss has kindly allowed me to take time off to focus on my family. Financially, we are in a good place, especially with the stimulus support compensating for my lost income.
As Texas begins to reopen, I’ve watched my social media feeds fill with friends and acquaintances returning to “normal life.” Posts showcase fresh hair highlights, manicured nails, and gatherings at restaurant patios. People are back in gyms, attending socially-distanced church services, and their kids are resuming activities like gymnastics or playing outside with friends. While I find these images somewhat unsettling, I don’t judge their choices. I believe that most are genuinely concerned for their communities, and their assessments of risk do not diminish our family’s situation or Liam’s vulnerability.
My internal conflict lies in determining how to keep Liam safe while also considering the well-being of the rest of our family. Although our current living conditions are ideal, they are not sustainable long-term. My children have not interacted with their peers for nearly three months—aside from awkward Zoom sessions—which hardly fulfills their social needs. My daughter is supposed to attend sleepaway camp for the first time in July, and I find myself anxiously seeking a definitive answer about whether she should go. Yet, there are no clear answers, and opinions I encounter online are often politicized and fail to address our specific circumstances.
As the months progress, I find myself questioning whether staying here is genuinely about protecting Liam or if I’m simply paralyzed by indecision. I acknowledge the seriousness of COVID-19, with over 100,000 deaths in the U.S. alone. However, it’s challenging to assess the true impact of this quarantine—both positive and negative. Have I successfully safeguarded Liam’s life, or am I merely delaying our return to a world that poses inherent risks for him? Is the time spent immersed in nature a net positive for my children, or is their emotional and social development suffering due to the lack of peer interaction?
This pandemic is not likely to end soon, and I will eventually need to adapt to living in society while managing the risks to my medically fragile son. A perpetual lockdown is not feasible; I will need to return to work, my children will go back to school, and we will reconnect with friends and neighbors.
I just wish I could pinpoint the right moment to leave this comforting bubble—safe yet devoid of genuine life.
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Summary
The author reflects on their family’s three-month isolation due to their medically fragile son, Liam. They grapple with the decision of when and how to re-enter society while weighing the risks to their son against the social and emotional needs of their children. The article discusses the challenges of navigating life during a pandemic and the difficult balance between safety and normalcy.