Hope

The school bus came to get my children, and they didn’t get on it.

Instead, I watched through the window as the driver rolled the window open and through the megaphone spoke the words, “Bus 52, here for pickup”. I looked over at my five year old daughters sitting at the counter, finishing their cereal in blissful ignorance.

This was supposed to be a big year for them – the biggest yet, actually. They were ready for Kindergarten, their first year of school. Their backpacks had their names embroidered, their lunch boxes were washed, waiting on the counter to be packed with delicious lunches and snacks. We talked about making so many new friends, and wondered what their teachers would be like.

We moved to this town called Hope, in search of exactly that: hope. We saw what was coming and we took a huge leap to a small town that we hoped would provide freedom and a better life for our family.

We bought a quaint little modern farmhouse, with lots of room for our babies to run free. I held the “SOLD” sign with one hand for a picture, while rubbing my pregnant belly with the other. I looked down at my belly and then over to my sweet babies + husband, with the most beautiful sense of completion, as we had found our forever home. I thought to myself, “How could it get better than this?”.

It had a couple of cozy wood stoves and a pellet stove, perfect for cozy winter nights. It had a giant playroom that welcomed a million memories, and even more to be made. We spent hours and hours and hours up there, singing and dancing, loving and learning.

We bought a small coop’s worth of chicks, who grew into our sweet friends that roamed the yard freely, morning and afternoon. They gave us fresh eggs for baking muffins and pancakes on Sunday mornings.

There were many nights by the fire pit , with nature-made s’mores sticks and golden marshmallows. We even camped out there sometimes, cuddling up with cozy blankets, listening to the crickets and the owls nearby, looking up at the stars talking about all the fun we’d had that day; talking about what adventures would come tomorrow.

Our days would start out on the front porch, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the morning with tea + coffee on the wooden rockers that greeted us when we first bought this place. Sometimes we’d be lucky enough to get a visit from the deer that would wander through the yard.

We welcomed a sweet puppy into our lives, here. A Saint Bernard pup that came out of nowhere, who ended up becoming the biggest blessing in our lives; the blessing that continues to give so much love and light.

It was springtime of 2021, and time was moving quickly toward the girls starting school. We had prayed day in and day out that by the time it was their first day of school, masks would be optional for them. Weeks and months went by, and there was still no word that this would be the case. We had briefly discussed the idea of homeschooling, but never really considered this prior to everything that was happening with the world. I wanted my kids to have a “normal life”; I wanted them to see their friends everyday, meet new teachers, learn, explore, grow.. I never imagined that I could even give them a quarter of all of that if I were to homeschool them. The concept completely engulfed me. I thought about it all day, every day; every. single. day. Until August came, and reality slapped us hard in the face. Hard.

My husband attended the one school board meeting where parents would be allowed to voice their concerns and opinions on the matter. There was a small group of women, and one man. My husband.

Where were all the other parents?

Each person voiced their opinion. My husband poured his heart out, desperately pleading for the chance to be able to make this decision on our own terms. There were families tuning into the meeting via Zoom, insisting that mandated masks were the one and only way that children were able to remain safe at school. Basically, their way or the highway, like it has been all along.

All the mic’s were turned off, as the board members began to stand and put on their coats. Their decision was made before the meeting even began. One of the members proceeded to tell my husband that if they did not implement a mask policy, they’d lose $1.7 million dollars in funding for the school.

My husband was completely distraught; my husband, who’d worked in a prison for almost 9 years with the worst criminals in the state, was on his knees in tears.

I don’t want my kids silent at lunchtime.

I don’t want my kids in masks at recess.

I don’t want them outside on the sidewalk, 3 feet apart during story time.

I don’t want the National Guard driving their bus to school.

I don’t want a swab in their nose every week to “see if they’re sick”.

I don’t want masks on my kids for their holiday choir performance, while we watch via Zoom.

We felt completely defeated. Like we were standing in a room full of thousands of people, screaming at the top of our lungs, but no one was listening. It didn’t matter what we said. Money spoke the loudest. It always has, right?

So, on the day that the school bus came to get my children, they didn’t get on it.

Instead, we started our first day of homeschool.

I have a Master’s degree. I’d like to say I’m a pretty intelligent person, I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but when it came down to mapping out how I was going to be solely responsible for the education and growth of my children, it paralyzed me. Every single move I’d make moving forward, would either benefit or hurt them.

And if I’m being completely transparent, when we were family planning, we pictured the twins starting school a little bit after the baby was born, so one child at home would be super manageable. But we also got a puppy, and then out of nowhere, I became an at-home educator.

This was a very humbling time in my life. Cut me right down to size.

A lot of people will say, “well, lucky you that you [get to] stay home and homeschool”. Well, yes, you’re absolutely right – I am damn lucky. I don’t take a second of that for granted. But the sacrifices that have come before all of this, were massive. People say these things to me as if I don’t drive an ’05 Chevy and wear the same ripped leggings for years, just so that I can feed my children organic food.

People also have said, “Just have them wear masks, it’s not a big deal”. Have them wear masks for how long? “Until the virus is over”. Viruses don’t just “go away”. So will our kids be wearing masks for 5+ years? Until not a single child comes down with a cold each year when flu season rolls around?

I’m not dismissing the fact that people have been severely effected by COVID, and have passed from it. I’m absolutely aware of that, and my heart breaks for those families. But I’m also abundantly aware that the CDC has announced numerous times now (about time) that 90% of all COVID cases reported at hospitals were from people who were there for other reasons, and also had COVID. They weren’t admitted for COVID. And that a large percentage of the deaths due to COVID were of people with underlying conditions, obese, or unhealthy to some other degree. The CDC is finally starting to report things somewhat accurately, which they’ve failed to do thus far.

None of this warrants or validates any reasoning for me to put a mask on my child.

When there are football stadiums FULL of people unmasked on the weekends, politicians partying together maskless, etc. – why are these kids half-ass masked at schools full time? When I say half-ass, I’m referring to the two year olds who are expected to keep masks on, but in reality they’re half off their faces, falling off, falling onto the germy ground and then replaced with dirty fingers back onto their faces.

Kids are still sick constantly at school, constantly – are they not? If the masks are working, how are these kids still getting sick?

There are children in speech therapy – with masks on – with their therapists with masks on. Please explain to me how this is effective or beneficial for that child? My children were in speech therapy, and they needed close-contact, facial expression-type learning techniques. If they had come to the house in masks for this, I would’ve told them that they’re wasting their time.

The CDC has also announced that cloth masks are not an effective source for protecting against the virus, that instead, N95’s are the way to go. Has anyone researched the effects that N95’s have on children for long-term wear?

It’s not my job to do research on the best health decisions for anyone else’s children but my own. Which I have, endlessly. If someone’s mind is set, they’ll look the other way no matter what is presented to them, even if it’s clear as day. People will say “well it’s your choice not to send your kid to school/not to mask them/not to bring them to the museum that now requires masks”.

Can you say that again, please? One more time? Can you hear yourself?

“It’s your choice”. Is it, though? Is it my choice? There is no choice for parents like me. This is just what we’ve been dealt. I’m pretty sure it isn’t a choice when you’re being forced in a certain direction.

In early September, our homeschool journey began and we got into a good groove, learning as we went. And then another curveball came that had been burning in the back of our minds for some time.

The vaccine mandate was coming.

Some employees were lucky and could make their own choice. Some employers would ultimately get a ruling in their favor and not have to implement these mandates. But as a state or healthcare worker, the odds were the farthest from being in your favor.

The mandate date came and went, and by the week of Christmas, we were cut off from any pay or benefits. We were also ineligible for unemployment. The state did not allow employees to apply for unemployment if they were being fired for not receiving the vaccine.

The reality hit us hard, again. It wasn’t until 12/24 that it really sunk in that we would have to give up our house. The tears streamed down my face as I looked around the home that was already beginning to look strange to me, as I knew we couldn’t be here anymore.

They don’t prepare you for how strong you’ll have to be when you deal with any type of crisis in your life, yet simultaneously working full time to keep a strong face for those babies. The days where you rub their little backs, promising them a beautiful world, all while you’re dying inside.

They don’t prepare you for the moment that strikes you like an oncoming train when you realize you can’t afford your mortgage because of a rule driven by the government that doesn’t make any logical or lawful sense. The moment when your brain explodes into a million pieces figuring out how you’ll manage groceries, bills, what you’ll have to sell, and how quickly you’ll be able to sell your house; where you’ll end up next.

How do you tell your babies that we have to go, again, when we just got here?

What do you tell your babies as you watch their swing set get hauled away out of your driveway; the swing set where your child first learned how to pump by themselves. The swing set where your baby took her first ride down the slide, had her first ride in the swing.

No one can put into words the feeling of leaning down so you’re face to face with your child, looking them in the eye and saying, “There’s so much to look forward to. God has a plan for us, and it’s a beautiful one. The adventure that lies ahead is absolutely way more amazing than any we have had before. I cannot wait to watch you thrive and grow on this next adventure, you’re going to love where we are headed next”, all while your chest feels like it might fall out of your body, like your legs might give out right beneath you.

No one can put into words watching your husband, your best friend, fall apart as the world falls apart around you, as he desperately picks up the pieces to do whatever he can to support his family and get them through this. After losing his career that he gave his entire soul to.

Have you ever worked in a prison? I couldn’t even work there for a day, never mind almost 9 years.

Many, many people have talked down to us saying, “Well just get the shot and it’ll all be fine. Get the shot so you can keep your house and support your family”.

Many people have said to me, “Why won’t he get the shot? Why don’t you just tell him to get the shot so you can keep your house?”.

I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to because he doesn’t want it. If I asked him tomorrow to go get it for us, he would do it in a heartbeat. But I’d never in a million years ask him to do that.

Why are husbands held to these standards that they somehow mean less than the rest of the family? Their feelings are a little less valid, a little less important because they’re “the man of the family”.

My husband is my best friend, he is equal to me. 100% equal. Period.

“Well that’s his choice”. Again – is it really a choice if you’re being forced in one direction over the other?

Regardless, we made our “choice”.

So, the tears were shed. There were nights where I held him up. There were nights where he held me up. And now we move forward.

The house will be sold, the boxes will be packed. We’ll say goodbye to what we thought was our forever. With our days in our sweet home being numbered, I’m ever-so-conscious of each time that could be the last.

There was a last time the girls competed to see how high they could swing; they hopped off the swings for the last time, and we didn’t even know it.

There was a last time we kicked the soccer ball around as a family. It rolled and came to a complete stop, for the last time.

There was a last time we sat around the fire pit, roasting marshmallows, looking up at the stars. Matt poured the water to put the fire out, and we had no idea that that was the last time we’d ever do it. I wish I had known.

There’ll be a last tubby for the girls in their special bathroom. A last time we read books in their cozy room before bed. A last time I make them pancakes in our kitchen. I’m going to soak these moments in with everything I have.

Our sweet chickens, who’ve become family, will have to go to another forever home. I never thought I could love chickens so much.

A lot of people ask how the girls are handling all of this. “Aren’t they sad?”. Well, no, they aren’t sad. We lead by example, with positivity. We don’t lie to them, we tell them what’s goin on, but it’s always in a positive light. They continue to thrive just as seamlessly as all sweet five year olds should. We would never have it any other way.

I don’t really know where we’ll land, but I know we’re getting out of here. We’re getting our children out of a place that doesn’t welcome them. We’re picking up everything and starting over. Not because it’s easy, but because our children come first and we’ll do anything in our power, in our lifetime, to ensure that their future is bright and they are welcomed with open arms wherever they are. Nothing in this lifetime or any other will come before my children. I want a brighter, better future for them, whatever that may look like.

I’ll continue to fight for them. Always. I won’t accept a medical passport/QR code/masked gridlocked society for my children.

Life is really hard right now, but it won’t always be this way. We’ll end up on top no matter what because with this crew, I’m wealthier than I could’ve ever imagined, and how could I ask for more than that? At the end of each day, I hold my children in my arms and count blessings endlessly in pure gratitude that they are healthy, and here, and magical. They’re all the magic and hope we’ll ever need.

I’m not sure what comes next, but I know that it isn’t about the four walls of a home, it’s what’s inside them that makes life beautiful. And wherever we land, I’ll know that one day when my children ask, I’ll be able to tell them that everything we did, every leap – big or small – was for them.

Here’s to our biggest adventure yet – for them.