A tale of frontliners

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My wife is a frontliner. Every morning at 6am, she gets up, showers, gets ready and leaves. My five-month baby is usually awake by then. She holds him tight and kisses him, before turning to hug me goodbye too. The goodbyes are silent, but there are many things unspoken between us in that few minutes, because we know by the end of this day, our lives could have been turned upside down if she has been exposed. She comes home at 6pm, sanitising her hands and showering again before coming into the house. This is after showering and throwing off her clothes at work for a deep clean. My baby is already nervously looking for his mother by that time, and she is equally the same, nervously switching back and forth between the excited anticipation of finding her son but also unsure on whether to even touch him, let alone feed him as she worries about whether she has been infected. This cyc…