JANEJ ARMITSTEAD
33, 3 journalist, Mount Gravatt East
It I is what I’ve dreaded for two years. In Queensland, we’ve stayed largely protected and I’ve felt safe. But with Omicron ripping through Brisbane, it’s the first time I’ve been scared – not just because b it seems so many friends are getting g the virus but I’m now a mum to nine-month-old n Louis.
For the most part, experts have said Covid is mild in children and babies but as a parent you can’t help but fear the worst. But there was no hiding; the virus found me like it’s found many millions worldwide. w
On a hot Brisbane day, my family caught c up at my parent’s house for a swim in their pool. Nobody was sick, not even a little bit. We checked. We had no idea Covid-19 was present and in a couple of days, that afternoon swim would likely be the culprit that infected half my family.
My brother, 38, sister-in-law, 38, who is 19 weeks pregnant, their one-year-old son, my 70-year-old dad, and me, all tested positive at the same time.
For me, it started with a minor tickle in my throat one night. The next morning, I felt a bit off and did a Rapid Antigen Test but it came back negative. I continued to get worse. Early the next morning, I did another RAT and it was a clear positive.
I struggled to get out of bed for the next four days. I was heavily congested, had a deep, barking chesty cough, body aches, chills, and night sweats. I was overwhelmed with fatigue yet I couldn’t sleep through the constant coughing and, weirdly, insane Covid-related nightmares.
I am double vaxxed, as is all my family, with my dad and sister-in-law boosted. But still, it was scary. My appointment to get my booster, which I’d had booked for weeks, was the day I tested positive.
At one point, when I was uncontrollably coughing, I lost my breath for a millisecond and the reality of this virus hit me. It was obvious how it could be deadly to some.
To me, the biggest shock was that Covid isn’t just a physical virus, but a mental and emotional one too. There’s fear, anxiety, worry, guilt, and isolation.
Who did you see? When did you see them? Have you made them sick? Will they be OK? For the days after testing positive, I was obsessively asking those I was in contact with if they had symptoms. I feared for them, myself, and my family. How was Dad feeling? Mum is vulnerable with an
underlying illness, what if she gets it? Are my pregnant sister-in-law and unborn child going to be OK? Is my brother improving and how is my nephew?
But my biggest concern: how would I not pass this virus onto Louis and my husband, Liam, in our three-bedroom home?
For the next seven days, I was isolated in our bedroom. Liam, who is boosted, took the spare room. I wore a mask everywhere I went outside the room. We opened every window and door in every room possible.
Liam prepared all food and either delivered it to me to eat or left it on the bench for me to get. I ate on our deck.
The most heartbreaking thing was having to avoid being near our baby. Hearing his cry and not being there to comfort him. Running in the other direction when he crawled towards me. Not being able to pick him up as he tapped on the bedroom door wanting to come in.
My heart broke every time I sat outside and he looked at me through the glass door.
Then there was the concern for my husband who was looking after me, solo parenting 24/7, and juggling full-time work. As a shift worker (a journalist) on night shifts that week (from home), he began work at 6pm after he’d put the baby to bed. A baby he’d spent all day entertaining.
It’s not lost on me that we are among the lucky ones. Liam and Louis avoided getting it. Dad bounced back quicker than all of us and didn’t pass it on to Mum. My sister-inlaw was well supported, with daily calls from the hospital. Friends and family dropped supplies at our doorstep each day.
Despite a few lingering symptoms (fatigue and dizziness), I’m almost back to normal and left with extreme gratitude and perspective.