Quarantine Chronicles

As we near the end of 2021, I feel as if we just ran an emotional marathon to get to this place where we find ourselves now. Finally. Home. 

In my recap, I will skip over the months of paperwork delays that resulted in our rescheduling flights on three different occasions. I’ll simply jump ahead to December, in the last week before our journey to Manila. Anticipation was high as we crammed our belongings into an embarrassing number of totes and duffel bags, like a high stakes game of Pre-Travel Tetris. 

That Wednesday morning, less than 72 hours from our departure, we drove to a nearby clinic to take our required preflight PCR tests. Several hours later, we were floored to discover that we had all tested negative for Covid – except for Carson, who had tested positive. We panicked about what this might mean for our travel plans, but the clinic nurse assured us that PCR tests are not 100% accurate. She advised us to try testing him at home to see what his results would be. We have since then read and heard from medical professionals that PCR tests sometimes pick up traces of a past infection from which a person has already recovered. This is probably the case with Carson because the results of two home tests that evening were negative. Then the next morning, he tested negative on the required PCR, clearing us to fly. I burst into tears of relief when we heard the news. 

Upon arrival in Manila, we were whisked away from the airport to our hotel for the required week of facility-based quarantine. I had planned ahead that this would be a “Quarantine Christmas” and had packed a little tree with Jesse tree ornaments and some garland to hang in the window. It was going to be a very simple holiday celebration, but the excitement about going home grew with each passing day. 

On the fifth day of quarantine, we were given the required PCR test to clear us for release from the hotel. We laughed, joked, cried, and sneezed through the swabs, but we were mostly excited since this test was the last step before going home. However, to our shock, we found that Carson had once again tested positive while the rest of us had tested negative. Yes, again! We weren’t sure what this would mean for us and how it would change our quarantine plans, but almost immediately, Cavin started making phone calls to see if we could contest the results. There really weren’t any options to do so.  

I want to pause here to express our respect for all parties and authorities involved in the vigilant Covid response here in the Philippines. My intention in sharing our story is not to undermine any authorities or protocols, but just to give full details to those of you who have been praying for our family over the past few days. 

By phone call from the governing office, we soon found out the standard protocol for an arriving family with one member testing positive for Covid. Our family was to be separated, and Carson along with one parent were to be transferred to a different facility for an additional fourteen days of quarantine. 

For all of you parents out there who have more than one child, I can almost guarantee that your youngest isn’t accustomed to being alone. Carson probably hasn’t played by himself a single day out of his seven years of life, and he doesn’t do well without his siblings or another child to play with. Separating our family and keeping our healthy, active little guy in a hotel room for two more weeks was going to be traumatic on both him and the parent that stayed with him. Carson had been the most excited to get back to our house, so adding more time to that wait would have resulted in a mentally and emotionally wearing fourteen days. Due to his inconsistent test results and the fact that we had all been quarantining together for days with no symptoms or other positive test results, we hoped there was a way to go home together to finish quarantine as a family.

This is where I start bragging on Calvin. Starting on Christmas Eve and for several days following, he tirelessly advocated for Carson and our entire family. He made phone calls, sent emails and messages, established new connections, and did everything he could possibly do to keep Carson from being isolated. Each morning when we gathered around the same table for breakfast and each day that I heard the kids running through our suite screaming and laughing as sisters and brothers should do, I chose to be thankful. Our hotel bill continued to climb, but it was worth every peso to be together. And we were beyond grateful for the friends, both old and new, who were willing to hear our situation and to empathize with us. Some of them had the wisdom to advise or the authority to help, some of them sent food, and some of them simply had a listening ear, but all of the people who showed us love meant the world to Calvin and me. 

On the Sunday following Christmas, it seemed that we had had a breakthrough, and we were confident that we had the documentation that we needed to transfer to home quarantine. Buzzing with excitement, we headed down to the parking garage, loaded up into a vehicle commissioned by the local barangay (neighborhood) where we live, and proceeded to the gate, only to be stopped by the guards and ultimately prevented from exiting. In reality, we did not have sufficient authorization to be released. Maybe my fears were unfounded at that moment, but I felt desperate to get home where I could rest assured that we would not be separated. That was when helplessness set in, and I leaned over my knees with my face in my hands and tears streaming down my cheeks. A few moments later, I felt my Adeline reach over the seat from the back, wrap her arms around me, and say, “I love you, Mommy.” And just like that, I was reminded that we were all still together and OK. We sat in the parked vehicle and contacted multiple people who we thought could connect us to an authority to grant our release, but not much could be accomplished on a Sunday. Hours later, we unloaded the vehicle and retreated back to our hotel room in defeat.

Three days and endless communication later, with multiple advocates working on our behalf in the appropriate departments, we finally had obtained the proper permission to transfer to home quarantine. We were loaded into an ambulance and raced back to our house, our yard, our beds, and our cats with lights flashing and siren blaring. It was quite a wild ride, but I would have gone by horseback or pedicab as long as our house was the final destination. Those drivers seemed like our rescuers in the moment, and we could have wrapped them both in a hug if they hadn’t been wearing PPE and keeping their distance. Since stepping through our front gate, we have been relishing the feeling of complete relaxation, fresh air, and sunshine for the first time in days. 

Thank you for praying for us. We truly felt the weight of Proverbs 13:12 this week. “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” I’m aware that our temporary stress was insignificant in contrast to the current trials of many of our friends, whether those be health battles, natural disasters, or family losses. During those long quarantine days, we reminded our kids (and ourselves) over and over again that many people are without roofs over their heads or meals on their tables or drinking water in their kitchens, and they would be happy to be “stuck” where we were. Many families have lost loved ones or their health and would surely trade their freedom for a chance to be “locked up” together and at full strength again. As minor as our trial may have been by comparison to that of others, this week’s struggle gave me a heightened focus on the presence of God when I feel like circumstances are spiraling out of control. He ultimately presides over my life and the lives of my children, but He is loving and good, especially in the gift of family and friends. Those reminders were worth the wait.