A Constant State of Fear

There are many things that new parents worry about-the list is really too long to type out fully-but there’s another list, a list that only applies to the parents of preemies.  On top of the machinery and the medicines and the feeding issues and the apnea and the growth charts and the milestones, there’s another fear: a pervasive and unyielding fear that your child is going to catch a cold, or contract the flu, or, worst of all, get RSV.  And because of this fear, and the doctors’ most strident warnings, you never leave your home, never expose your child to the germs, because these seemingly innocent bugs can actually be fatal.  You see, the constant state of fear is made even more real because, well, it isn’t unfounded-you should be afraid, very afraid, because fatal means fatal.

Colds are usually pretty low on the list for new parents-all kids get colds, generally when they stop breast feeding (immunities and what not), but for a preemie, especially a preemie in her first few months outside of the NICU, a serious enough cold could be difficult and could require an additional hospital stay.  We were given strident doomsday warnings about Lily getting sick, because getting a common cold could turn into RSV, and RSV in her preemie lungs could be fatal.  Everything could be fatal.  The man in the grocery store picking up the soup can next to my soup can could have a mild cough, which could be the beginning of pneumonia, which could kill my child.  So you don’t go outside-you limit your contact with the rest of the world in order to stave off any life-threatening carrier germs.  No one is allowed in your home, either (except for the occasional relative, mostly childless couples because children are the real carriers).  You sit alone in your house, day after day, watching daytime television and eating everything in sight while you watch your baby sleep away the day in germ-free oblivion and part of you starts to disappear-you look forward to your husband coming home at night because it’s probably the only other human contact that you’re likely to have-friends promise to come over but their kids are sick, or they have a sore throat, or the timing is bad-and, honestly, you’re not upset with them because you understand.  That’s life-things happen and you can’t be angry about them.  It’s like post-partum depression, except you’re not sad and you’re not confused.  You’re just lonely and bored and so consumed with fear for your infant that you manage the fear anyway that you can-for me, self medication through food, reading tons of books, watching television, and psychotically obsessing about your child’s wellbeing.  But the boredom and isolation are pretty bad.  Why shower, if you’re not going anywhere or seeing anyone?  Why not eat an entire bag of Hershey’s Kisses?

Infants cannot receive the flu shot until 6 months, and ours was scheduled for early February-there was a serum shortage so we had to wait almost 7 months.  Fear of contracting the flu was the reason that I didn’t go back to work in February.  All of Lily’s doctors agreed, “This child cannot be in daycare during cold and flu season.”  You know who dies from the flu?  Old people and babies, so October through February I sat on the couch, most of the time alone, neither happy nor sad about it-I guess numb and disengaged, but still really present for my child, creating a rhythm for the both of us, learning what she liked and when. 

I’m not sure what RSV stands for, but I like to call it Really Scary Virus.  When adults get RSV it’s like a normal cold, but for babies, and really for preemies, it can be deadly-everything can be deadly. Everything should scare the shit out of you until you beg for mercy for another adult to handle your life for just a little while.  You were a person once: you got your nails done and your hair done and you went to work and you saw adults every day and you talked about more than bowel movements and feeding schedules and you went out for meals and you had girls’ nights and you showered daily and put on makeup and did your hair and you walked around the best city in the whole world on a daily basis…and now you have to wait for your mother to come over and watch the baby so you can have 10 minutes to yourself! Never mind your nails or your hair or any of the rest of it…the monotonous routine and life you’ve created for yourself have turned you into someone else, someone barely recognizable because the fear has taken over.  You are the fear, the all-consuming and Where the Wild Things Are style fear the covers you like a cloud and rains thunderbolts over who you once were. 

And the thing is…you don’t entirely mind.  Becoming this other person isn’t the worst thing in the world.  You like being mom.  You like not being a carrier.  You don’t like your roots, but you don’t mind missing the hours in the hairdresser’s chair.  And you LOVE having an excuse to not see people.  Then you look in the mirror and you have a weird meta-moment when the fear starts to peel away and you see yourself for who you really are.  You tell the fear, “Time to take a backseat.”  Bit by bit you reclaim, you take the baby places because, really, she’s had her flu shot and she is allowed to be out in the world. The baby LOVES it and is fascinated by all the sounds and sights and car rides…meeting new people turns out to be delightful and she’s incredibly social.  She gets a cold-and it’s not bad.  Three days of uncomfortable and then, she’s fine.  Like it didn’t happen.  And guess what?  The fear is gone…as are your roots.