Parenting through this has also highlighted the gendered nature of how labor gets divided during a crisis. My husband is very much a “take-charge” kind of person, Eagle Scout energy. He’s great in emergencies. But I find myself taking on more of the emotional labor, tending to the kids’ feelings and needs. He’s good at that too, but I notice the dynamic becoming more traditional as we navigate this disaster.
Right now, I think we’re doing okay. The kids are healthy, and we’ve received so much support. I feel like resources should go to families who are struggling more than we are. We hosted Edie’s 8th birthday party organized by friends. In that way, the love we have been shown means we are lucky.”
“For children like Waylon, the wait for medical equipment can take years—the thought of leaving behind those long-awaited essentials is devastating.”
Dawn McCoy, is a TV host, writer and founder of Loving Way Foundation, a nonprofit organization that fights child abuse. She is also a single mom to her son Waylon, 5, who is disabled. She says:
My son, Waylon is five years old and has extensive brain damage, blindness, cerebral palsy, epilepsy and developmental delays. He doesn’t yet talk or walk, sit or stand independently. And as a solo parent, to say that emergency situations leave you feeling powerless is an understatement.
We are completely reliant on medical equipment: Waylon’s wheelchair, gait trainer, bath chair, activity chair, leg braces, and arm braces are all essential. For children like Waylon, the wait for medical equipment can take years—so the thought of leaving behind those long-awaited essentials is devastating. The idea of evacuating under pressure with a child who cannot walk is beyond terrifying.
Although we were in the red flag zone, we were fortunate not to face a sudden, fast-moving evacuation like so many of our friends. At least 20 of them lost their homes. Given how complicated an evacuation could be for us, we decided to leave early, and went to Palm Springs for the week.
I talked to Waylon about everything that was going on and we stayed inside and just cuddled a lot and watched movies.
I also tapped into Waylon’s love of music to be a kind of therapy for us. I kept wanting to hear a slow version of Randy Newman’s “I Love LA”, so Waylon and I sat at the piano and came up with our own take on it with our own adapted lyrics.
Our home, located in Mid-City, ultimately remained safe. However, the smell of smoke lingered everywhere, and I noticed a notable uptick in Waylon’s epileptic seizures.
Honestly, the hardest part is just feeling the devastating heartbreak and loss of my friends and fellow Angelenos. We are a family who has survived trauma in our past, and I just know well that feeling of the ‘before’ and the ‘after’. But you’re right now in the middle of—where am I? You’re kind of in a purgatory.
