Our second season of isolation is officially coming to a close. No longer will I have to be confined to my house with my children. I can run errands like a regular person. I can go to the grocery store to pick up that one ingredient I am missing rather than begging off neighbors or waiting for Andrew to come home. And, here's the kicker, my kiddos can play with other children. Gasp. As a mom of micro preemies, all I think of when I see another kid is the germs. Their little noses are constantly running, and even now someone always has a cold. I know Warren and Dean will eventually face their first cold, it is inevitable, but I shudder to think about their little lungs. I have flashbacks to their time in the NICU, watching them fight and struggle to breathe. I cannot fathom the fear of hearing the rattles in their lungs, watching them struggle and fight for breath all over again, hearing them cry out in pain. Or worse yet, not hearing them crying out as they are too fatigued from fighting. Here's the thing...I don't know if any of that will be true. They might be strong enough to fight off a cold like any other kid, their lungs and the scarring may have healed enough to handle it just fine...no extra meds, no trips to the ER, no hospitalizations. We just don't know. I just don't want to know. But I do know this, I am going to have to let go. Just a little bit initially, but eventually completely as they head off to preschool. Eventually.
Until then, I am going to slowly start entering society again. Maybe schedule their very first play date. Maybe not sanitize them immediately if they touch something some other kid may have touched at some point in history. We'll take it one step at a time. Starting with a trip to the park and dinner out with these adorable boys, our first dinner out as a family, and their new found love of french fries with ranch dressing.
Swinging with Daddy. Dean hated this activity...
Slide!
Mommy and Warren
Daddy and Dean
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