To the ones who don't understand

I'm sorry.
I know I can be confusing.
I am confused, to some extent.

But my instinct is strong, right now.
Confused at times, but strong in my resolve.

I will do everything I can to protect my kids, while I have the choice to do so.

Have you ever wondered if your child might die?
Seriously, without an ounce of dramatic flair.
Have you ever really looked your child's mortality in the eyes?

Have you worried every single day, each time you prepared a meal, bought groceries or watched your child eat that today might be the day they stop breathing? That the food you lovingly bought and prepared for them might actually kill them?

I don't mean to sound crass or lean into stories of trauma and terror for attention.

All I mean to say is this:

I thought cancer might kill my daughter.

I live with daily chronic stress related to raising a child with anaphylaxis. I wash my hands more often than those most fearful of coronavirus because my actions directly impact whether my son survives, every single day.

I had no control over their diagnoses.
No choice to make.
All I could do is learn to live in the uncomfortable space and breathe through the dark moments.

Since the pandemic began, I've found the grey area exhausting to navigate.

What is safe to do?
- grey -
Who is safe to be around?
- grey -
What level of risk is comfortable?
- grey -
What happens when I change my mind?

It continues to bring me to tears.
It's hard and wild and unrelenting.

But inside this pandemic, I've found I have some choice.

I can choose to reduce my family's risk of becoming sick.
I can choose to make decisions about what feels safe.
I can choose to speak up when something doesn't feel right.

So, I might sound confusing to some.
Overreacting to others.
Difficult.

But the truth is, I am still healing.
Trauma is engrained in my bones.
Chronic stress in my blood.

And while I am not living in fear as a result of this pandemic,
(I trust in God and feel protected by my family of angels)
I am making the choice to take precautions for the health of my children.

And those precautions are subject to change.
In fact, they change pretty regularly.
Even when I don't want them to.

This pandemic is confusing, and new information means the grey area continues to be just that.
So. Damn. Grey.

But because I have considered more than once that my child could die... injected an epinephrine needle into my son's tiny leg... stood in a surgical waiting room wondering when the oncologist would provide an update on her prognosis... begged God to take it all away from them and give it to me...

I am always considering what choice is best to protect my children.

I know you don't understand.
But bear with me.
Be patient with my confusion.
Notice, but please do not judge.

Consider that you'll never fully understand how it effects my healing heart for me to have a choice to protect them, this time around.