I used to be a tad more open minded to other opinions.
I still try to be but I find it harder.
And if you find me difficult and unrelatable, I get it. It’s not you. Really, it’s not you. It’s me.
And perhaps it’s the company I keep. Nothing is worse than a tribe of special needs parents reminding you that health is important, wearing a mask is important….nothing ruins your mojo more than special needs parents who have to run home to oxygen, suctioning, feeding tubes and bottles of purel. Special needs parents are not very sexy.
And bereaved parents?
Get. Out. Of. Town.
Never, ever talk statistics about how many children could die of COVID to a bereaved parent. To a bereaved parent, we beat the odds. Anything can happen. Don’t try to rationalize life and death based on what you saw on Fox News; especially if its not yours.
When was the last time you attended a funeral and sat in front of a baby casket? Never?
Then count yourself lucky and STFP.
Am I angry? Hell yeah.
Stop talking about things you think you know and I hope you never ever know.
But really. It’s not you. It’s me.
Of course I seem scared to you. My stories are your worst nightmare. The outlier to your statistics.
But I am not scared.
I was scared when my daughter seized for the first time. After the 20th time, it was old hat.
Cause it is what is it is.
I was scared when she caught MRSA multiple times and it took two weeks to get a bacterial infection under control. I was scared when I was sent home with two IV antibiotics to be administered two hours around the clock through her PIC line.
I was scared when I performed CPR for the first time. I hope I never have to perform it again.
It is what it is.
160,000 dead in five months. But its not your Mother, your Father, your Brother, your Child.
So you can ignore it.
It is what it is.
Until it’s yours.