‘Tis the season of all the merry things—the holidays, traveling and quality time with your loved ones. But ’tis also the season of all the scary things—like higher rates of viruses, and namely, cold, flu and RSV season.
According to data from the CDC, RSV cases are on the rise, having already exceeded the peak hospitalization rate seen in winter 2020.
Related: How RSV changed the way I parent
Respiratory syncytial virus, or RSV, is a common respiratory virus that usually causes mild, cold-like symptoms. Yet in children under 2, babies born prematurely and older adults, this virus can be more serious—and even life threatening. Serious cases are marked by a lower respiratory illness, such as bronchiolitis or pneumonia.
This year, we have new tools: a newly approved maternal RSV vaccine given during pregnancy to protect newborns, an RSV therapy for babies younger than 8 months and RSV vaccines for adults over 60 (grandparents, looking at you), plus updated monovalent Covid vaccines and updated flu vaccines for everyone over 6 months. But the RSV therapy for babies is in short supply and Covid and flu vaccine uptake has been low in general.
As a parent, the main thing I’m worried about is keeping my kid safe and healthy in every way I possibly can. Yet when faced with challenges like these (and germs everywhere), it’s a little harder to guarantee his well-being in unpredictable times.
As a concerned mama, I’m doing the best I can to decrease my child’s chances of catching the virus.
As worried and full of anxiety as I always am about the welfare of my child, the rise in RSV cases has me sure about one thing: I’m going full-fledged mama bear mode to protect him the best I can. And I’m no longer going to apologize for it.
While I can’t control every outcome, I know that I can make every effort to minimize the risk of potential exposure my child has to RSV. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Related: Pfizer’s RSV vaccine for pregnancy can protect newborns against severe illness
I’ll be opting out of playdates so that I don’t have to worry about the kids potentially swapping germs as they’re sharing toys.
I’ll be skipping family gatherings where my sister’s kids have runny noses and a “slight cough” because I’d rather be safe than sorry.
I’ll be reestablishing boundaries that I priorly softened on, like not allowing others to pick up or hold my son and asking people to wash their hands before they touch anything that belongs to him.
I’ll be allowing less traffic in and out of our house, and we won’t be spending too much time going in and out of other people’s homes. Matter of fact, my husband and I have already opted out of hosting the holidays this year—and even forfeited spending Thanksgiving with extended family due to a relative being sick.
I’ll be reiterating that no one (and I mean no one besides myself and my husband) should kiss our child.
And I’ll be standing firm in my decisions.
Related: Terrifying video shows heroic officers saving the life of a newborn with RSV
Yes, it’s terrible when the holiday season is the prime time to be around your loved ones and all you want to do is share space and embark in family traditions. But as a parent, I’m learning to be OK with making the hard decisions so that the wellness of my child isn’t compromised.
I’ve seen RSV strike families left and right. I’ve seen close friend spend unnerving nights in the hospital while their child received treatment. So as a concerned mama, I’m doing the best I can to decrease my child’s chances of catching the virus.
It’s exhausting having to over explain myself when others don’t understand why I’m setting boundaries. It’s tiring when people choose to mock me for being “difficult” or “unnecessary” rather than respect my wishes for my family.
I’m not being overdramatic or unreasonable. I don’t need to “worry less” or “loosen up” as some may sarcastically say. I have every right to show concern over my child’s welfare—and every right to be a little more guarding of him during this RSV season.
So please respect my boundaries. No one else has to agree with or understand my choices. No one else has to make the same decisions for their own children. They’ll do what’s best for theirs—just as I am doing what’s best for mine.
A version of this story was originally published on Nov. 30, 2022. It has been updated by Motherly editors.
