Dear Friend,
I want to address something that’s been weighing heavily on my heart. When we wear masks, it doesn’t make us “sheeple.” Your claim that mask mandates infringe upon your personal freedoms is deeply frustrating to me, and I feel compelled to explain why.
On Christmas Day, I packed my toddler into the car and drove across town to visit my aunt. As we passed through the beautifully adorned streets, we arrived at the only dark house on the block—hers. Her husband had passed away that morning due to complications from COVID-19, and his van remained parked in the driveway. I placed a bouquet of flowers at the gate, tears streaming down my face. I longed to comfort my aunt in her grief, but with the circumstances being what they are, that was impossible. This wasn’t the Christmas any of us expected.
For ten months now, my son has been deprived of any semblance of normalcy. Since the initial stay-at-home order in our county, he has been isolated at home. I took an unpaid leave from work to care for him—he is vulnerable to COVID-19 due to his viral-induced asthma. Even something as simple as a common cold can lead him into respiratory distress.
In his short life, he has visited the emergency room more times than my husband and I combined. He has endured numerous rounds of steroids to keep his airways open, and his baby teeth have suffered as a result, necessitating extensive dental surgery. A viral illness means days of nebulizer treatments, and if those fail, another trip to the hospital is required.
I don’t live in fear because I’m following COVID-19 guidelines; my anxiety began long before this pandemic and will continue long after. It all changed when my son was four months old. After days of inconsolable crying, I noticed his mouth had turned blue. I rushed him to the emergency room, crying out for help. He was immediately taken in, and I watched as machines beeped and the staff worked quickly to stabilize him.
His asthma was diagnosed before his first birthday, and since then, we’ve had to manage his condition with relentless vigilance. During those treatments, all I could think was that his screams meant he was still breathing.
At three years old, he now knows to ask for his inhaler when he feels an asthma flare-up. He can articulate his feelings, and I hear him say that it feels like he’s dying during an attack. I pray you never experience the terror of seeing your child struggle for breath.
The pandemic presents me with two harsh realities: emergency services are overwhelmed, and bringing him to the hospital poses a risk of exposure to the virus. My anxiety is at an all-time high.
Last night, my son crawled into bed with me and asked, “Can I cuddle with you, Mommy?” He misses his cousins and the joy of having playmates. As he fell asleep, I tucked a pillow beside him to prevent him from rolling off the bed. While I can’t protect him from everything, I can keep him safe for now.
In conclusion, dear friend, if your beliefs oppose the sanctity of life, I urge you to reconsider. If you truly care about those who are vulnerable, including my son, please do your part to protect them. Wearing a mask doesn’t make me a Karen; it makes me a mother.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt letter, a concerned mother shares her struggles during the pandemic, emphasizing the importance of wearing masks for the safety of vulnerable individuals. She recounts personal experiences with her son’s severe asthma and the challenges they face, urging her anti-masker friend to reconsider their stance for the sake of protecting those who are most at risk.