We are living through chaotic and frightening times right now. Each of us is trying to navigate through fact vs. fear and make choices rooted in science. The experts all concur that social distancing is a key factor in slowing the spread of COVID-19. Schools are closing, people are working from home and we are altering our daily lives and rituals. For some, these changes are rooted in the shared values of self-care and caring for others. We may be healthy and young enough to weather the virus, but we must consider how our actions may impact the most vulnerable among us. Who might we put at risk, if we choose to disregard the experts? And still, it isn’t always easy to put the stranger in our midst before ourselves. So, I’d like to share a story with you that might make that easier.

When our youngest daughter Noa was born, she was diagnosed with three congenital heart defects. Within the first week of her life, she was already on a diuretic to help her kidneys function with less strain on her heart. She was also on blood pressure medication, and doctors were monitoring her closely, as we tried to fatten her up and strengthen her frail little body ahead of the open heart surgery she would need to have. We learned the symptoms to watch for that would indicate she was going into congestive heart failure, and we attempted to wake her every two hours to try and cajole her into eating. At 3.5 weeks old, weighing only 4lbs. 11 ounces, she underwent a 7.5-hour surgery to save her life.

As a December baby, our daughter was especially susceptible to RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus), a virus that could surely kill her should she contract it. She was put on a series of monthly shots called Palivizumab to help protect her from the virus. And, we were told to follow very similar protocols to the ones being asked of us today. We stayed at home in the weeks before her surgery, as it was safer than the hospital. We went out only to doctor’s visits. We washed our hands constantly. We strictly limited visitors, and nobody could hold our little girl or enter our home if they had any indicators of illness or cold. We cleaned constantly, disinfecting every surface in the house. When your child’s life is on the line, there isn’t a direction you won’t follow to keep them safe.

We also had two other young children at home, one 3 the other 4. They attended separate preschools and were especially susceptible to illness exposure as a result. We could have pulled them out of school, but one of our daughters was newly diagnosed on the autism spectrum and relied on the services, routine, structure and social-skill building that her preschool provided. We had to weigh her needs very thoughtfully into our decisions. And we had to figure out how to balance the need for normalcy in the lives of both girls, against this frightening scenario that was our new reality.

So, I contacted the nurse and director at each school and explained our situation. I asked that they send a note out to the wider community and share our story, imploring families to help us keep some routine and normalcy in the lives of our young daughters while taking communal responsibility to help prevent them from bringing home an illness to their sister. The schools rose to the occasion without hesitation. They asked that nobody send their children to school sick, or under the weather. They strengthened protocols for regular hand washing and sanitizing at school. They did not hesitate to send a sick child home. Each of the schools, and the families that were part of those communities, did their part to help us keep our daughter alive. It may have cost someone a day’s salary at work. It may have disrupted an important meeting or travel plans. But the strangers in our midst took our situation to heart and responded with humanity and compassion.

We spent an entire winter this way, both prior to and after our Noa’s open-heart surgery. She and we only emerged out into the world in the spring, when she was stronger and safe.  It was a long and difficult winter. People cooked for us and left meals. Others helped with carpooling and schlepping our girls around. They too adapted, learning the routine of washing their hands immediately upon coming into the house, changing out of their school clothes and only being allowed to kiss the (covered) feet of their baby sister.

I share all of this to say, that we are a family that had to rely on the herd mentality to save the life of our child. While anyone of us would likely have weathered illness that winter, Noa would not have been so lucky. She may not have survived it. The communal response, the care of others for this child they did not know, was a gift. The meals left on the doorstep, the love of friends and family, allowed us to focus our attention where it needed to be.  And when her first cold came, a few months after her surgery, Noa was able to endure it with the same level of fuss and discomfort any healthy baby would experience.

So, yes, this is a hard adjustment for all of us. We have to adjust our mindsets and learn to live out the ideal and value of loving our neighbor as we love ourselves. That is what it means to live in a community, in connection with our fellow man and woman. Our destinies are tied together more often than we think, but it is during trying times that we find the most visceral reminders of that truth.

We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men. Herman Melville