Vigilant mom still got virus
Deep concerns at age 43, with a 7-month-old daughter
It was the Thursday night before Memorial Day weekend when Rebecca Drobis, a 43-year-old mother of an infant daughter in northwest Washington, was suddenly awakened by a faint feeling of chills and wondered if she might be getting sick.
Drobis, a freelance photographer (she previously has worked for the Washington Post), had done everything she could think of to avoid the novel coronavirus. Her experience, recounted in a recent interview, captures how even a mild case of COVID-19, the illness caused by the virus, can still be a harrowing ordeal — and how the myriad unknowns of the illness leave its victims without a clear sense of closure or control.
◆◆◆
We took the pandemic very seriously right from the outset. My husband’s brother was stationed with the Navy in Beijing, so we’d been following the pandemic very closely since January.
My daughter, Rosie, was 7 months old in March. Babies under the age of 1 are considered in the high-risk category. My parents, who are in their 70s, used to watch my daughter once a week, and we decided right away to have them stop coming over.
My father is a retired doctor, so we’ve always been hyperaware of germs, and after you have a newborn, you’re just crazy about wiping everything down.
I ordered masks right away. We stopped going to the grocery store. We had everything delivered. We took the stay-at-home orders very seriously. We were only leaving our house to go for a walk.
Sometimes, to maintain distance, I would push Rosie’s stroller into the bike lane or the street. Is the danger greater from an oncoming car or from all the people who aren’t wearing masks?
I remember going to bed May 21 feeling a little more tired than usual. I woke up in the middle of the night and felt chills.
In the morning, I was positive I had a fever. I took my temperature, and it was 100.5 — I was terrified.
I called my health care provider at 7 a.m., and I was able to get scheduled for a drivethru test at noon.
It was pouring rain, and there was this person approaching the car wearing full PPE. It really hit me in that moment: This is what a global pandemic is. This woman is testing COVID-positive people all day long, and she’s putting herself at risk. On every level, it suddenly felt real.
By nighttime, my fever was gone. I stayed in my room and began to think, “This was just a fluky thing, just bad timing to have a fever.”
The next morning, I felt fine and had no fever. In fact, I never again had symptoms of COVID-19. But then I got the call: I had tested positive.
My husband and I were shocked. We both cried.
My husband immediately disinfected every single thing in the house, washing all of Rosie’s clothes, every one of her toys, anything I might have touched.
We assumed my husband had it and that I’d given it to my daughter. We wondered: If we both get really sick, who is going to take care of Rosie? You start thinking about your life insurance. You’re thinking, “Thank God I did my will.”
My feelings oscillated between panic and helplessness, a lack of control. I also felt dirty. I got in the shower and scrubbed myself. The idea of having a deadly virus in your body that could kill other people — it was a psychological nightmare.
Meanwhile, it was Memorial Day weekend, and the weather was beautiful. There were so many parties. That Saturday night, from the window in my bedroom, I could see three parties on rooftops across the street. I wanted to scream.
My husband had to get tested, too, so I went downstairs to watch Rosie.
I had changed my clothes. I had washed my hands a thousand times. I put on gloves.
I tried to stay 6 feet away from her as she played on the floor and looked at me very curiously. She took a tumble because she wasn’t a good crawler yet, and I was not sure what to do. Do I go pick her up? Should I let her cry? Nothing felt right.
My husband tested negative — twice. My brother and sister-in-law got tested, too, because we’d seen them outside, in that socially distant way.
You can do every single thing right and still wind up on the wrong side of the virus.
For days, I was stuck in my room, away from my husband and daughter, waiting. It was a dark time. My daughter and I shared a wall. I’d hear her crying. I felt so torn. Especially when you’re nursing, your body is saying, “Go get the baby,” and your mind is saying, “Stay here, stay here.”
I was so stressed out that my milk started drying up. The first question everyone would ask is, “How do you think you got it?” The doctors asked, too.
I explained every single thing we did: We disinfected our UPS packages. We quarantined our mail for four days before we touched it.
The doctors said they were seeing this all the time — people who had been completely isolated like we were and still wound up COVID-positive.
I didn’t tell many people because I was surprised at how people rush to judge you.
After a week, I could finally be reunited with my husband and daughter. That morning, Rosie woke up and I ran into her room, and she smiled at me, and it felt like such a relief. I felt overwhelmed with pure joy.
I was worried that she wouldn’t be interested in breastfeeding anymore, but she picked it right back up.
Where I’ve landed is that I’m OK with not knowing how this happened. This virus doesn’t fit neatly into any system of order that makes sense.
I understand now why all of the sacrifices, small and big, are so crucial.
It’s not the most vibrant life that we’ve been living — but to me, what’s important is that I didn’t infect anyone else that I know of, and we are healthy, and we are doing what we need to do to keep other people safe.