My nearly six-year-old daughter was among the first kids to receive the pediatric COVID-19 vaccine, shortly after the CDC recommended the Pfizer option. This moment was highly anticipated for months, and we were thrilled to be among the early recipients.

This vaccination held great importance for us. It alleviated our concerns about social interactions, eliminated the need for outdoor masks, and provided a sense of security.

The vaccination process itself was straightforward. We went to Walgreens on the very first day they offered the shots. However, the following day was tough, as she experienced side effects similar to a stomach flu.

Interestingly, my daughter might have felt just as unwell had she contracted the virus instead. Nevertheless, she remained optimistic, recognizing that her body was diligently working to develop antibodies. She took solace in knowing that her side effects were not contagious.

She understood that even if she were to have a breakthrough infection, her chances of transmitting the virus to others would be significantly reduced. This made enduring a day of discomfort worthwhile.

I take pride in her decision. She is contributing to the protection of those at risk and playing a role in ending the pandemic.

And that’s what being a superhero is all about.

So why did we decide to vaccinate our child?

As a family, we engaged in discussions about vaccinating our daughter for several months. Since the onset of the pandemic, she has been aware of the challenges it posed. Understanding the situation helped her cope with the upheaval in her life.

We explored the virus and the implications of getting vaccinated against COVID-19, often reading books together about vaccines, viruses, and the immune system. Just days before her vaccination, she participated in an online class designed for kids about viruses.

As a result, she possesses a deeper understanding of vaccine science than many adults.

However, despite her knowledge, my husband and I ultimately make the medical choices for her.

We didn’t take this decision lightly.

To ensure we made the best choice, I kept abreast of the studies concerning pediatric COVID-19 vaccines conducted over the past year. I watched extensive presentations from various experts submitted to the CDC, which contained a wealth of data validating the safety of the Pfizer vaccine.

I understand that not everyone agrees with the guidance issued by the CDC, FDA, or even the American Medical Association.

Science is not infallible—debate is an inherent part of the scientific method. Many health recommendations are subjects of debate within the medical community.

I have, at times, disagreed with certain health guidelines as well. I believe in fostering a healthy dialogue based on scientifically grounded information.

This is why, as parents, we collaborate with our doctors, conduct thorough research, and navigate through the noise—however well-intentioned—to make informed medical choices for our children.

Science is not dogma—disagreement is part of the scientific process.

However, differing conclusions are inevitable. This is not only because science is not always settled, but also because each child is unique, growing up in different environments. Applied medicine is not a one-size-fits-all approach.

I recognize that not all parents will choose to vaccinate their children with the Pfizer vaccine (or any COVID vaccine). Some may decide to wait and see how things develop, while others might prefer more traditional, non-mRNA vaccine options for children when they become available. Some parents may opt against vaccinations altogether.

I respect that parents must conduct a risk-benefit analysis tailored to their child.

To do this, we have many factors to weigh.

We need to assess the prevalence of the virus in our community and the risk levels for our family members. Consulting with our doctors is essential, as is understanding what school districts will require.

We must also contemplate our perceived moral responsibilities—whether to protect the vulnerable or to contribute to pandemic resolution.

Moreover, we need to reflect on which authorities or experts we find credible. What are our beliefs regarding the reliability of their information? We should also consider any religious concerns we might have.

That’s a lot for us parents to ponder.

Vaccinating your child isn’t always a straightforward decision.

Addressing a new disease with innovative technology complicates matters further.

Let me clarify: I am not someone who insists that everyone must be vaccinated without question.

Yes, my daughter has received all her recommended childhood vaccines, including the flu shot this year, just as she did last year. I trust science, but I do not do so blindly.

I make decisions that are specific to my daughter.

Here are two examples of such decisions:

A few years back, my daughter’s pediatrician advised against her receiving the flu vaccine, citing its low efficacy rate of just 10%. The doctor believed the risks, albeit rare, associated with the flu shot were not worth it. We considered this medical advice, but ultimately, it was a parental decision.

That choice was relatively clear-cut. The other one was more complex.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I opted not to get the flu shot due to various risk-benefit considerations.

One major concern was that flu vaccines are not tested on pregnant women. The accompanying labels for flu vaccines highlight the absence of safety data for this demographic. There are valid reasons for this exclusion, but it left me without data from clinical trials to help assess my risk.

Additionally, during my pregnancy, I was on bed rest, which limited my interactions with others. My family could receive the flu shot and shield me from their potential exposures, making my own risk of contracting the flu quite low. What level of risk was I willing to accept?

At that time, the average efficacy rate for the flu vaccine was just 19%, and it was even lower for my age group. For such minimal protection, what risks were acceptable?

My hesitance might have been less pronounced if it weren’t for the high-risk nature of my pregnancy. I had achieved a one-in-a-million pregnancy, accompanied by complications that posed serious threats to our lives. This pregnancy followed the devastating loss of my older child to SIDS.

What level of risk was I willing to accept?

To me, it wasn’t worth taking an unquantified risk.

I had to make this decision without a doctor’s endorsement.

One physician at the practice where I received care strongly urged me to get the flu vaccine, even providing various documents to convince me I was mistaken. I remained resolute in my decision to decline.

At my next appointment, another doctor inquired whether I would be getting the flu shot. After I explained my rationale, that doctor simply replied, “makes sense” and moved on.

My risk assessment might have been inaccurate, but another crucial factor was peace of mind. How much anxiety for a small amount of protection was reasonable?

I stood firm in my decision.

Had both doctors insisted and presented evidence that contradicted my assessment, I might have reconsidered. If the first doctor had addressed my specific concerns rather than providing generalized information that increased my worries, my decision may have been different.

I had enough on my plate without adding additional stress, especially since the shot seemed to offer little benefit under my circumstances.

Interestingly, a study suggested a possible link between flu vaccines and miscarriage. Though this connection has been disputed since, my concerns at the time were not entirely unfounded when considering the risk-benefit analysis.

Medical guidance should be evaluated, not accepted uncritically.

The crux of my argument is that making an informed decision doesn’t always mean adhering to every recommendation provided by medical professionals. They may not always share the same views. Debate is a natural part of scientific inquiry.

However, dismissing all expert advice because of a lack of trust is not an informed choice either.

That’s why, during my pregnancy, I opted to receive the Tdap vaccine.

Why this vaccine but not the flu shot?

The rationale behind the Tdap was clear to me. The benefits far outweighed the potential risks.

Primarily, the Tdap vaccine protects against whooping cough, which can be fatal for infants. There is substantial evidence that my vaccination would provide my daughter with enhanced immunity to this disease after her birth, as she wouldn’t be eligible for her own vaccination until she was at least two months old.

To further mitigate this risk, I ensured that only individuals vaccinated with Tdap were around my newborn. Given that my daughter was born prematurely, her specific needs necessitated this precaution. Once again, we tailored our decision to fit her requirements.

I had to conduct a similar risk-benefit analysis regarding the pediatric Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine.

The fact is, it has undergone testing in children with no significant adverse effects reported. This alleviated my concerns regarding potential risks for my daughter.

Moreover, the pediatric version of the Pfizer vaccine boasts an impressive efficacy rate of 91% against symptomatic illness. Vaccinating children is a vital step toward ending the pandemic. These facts provided enough benefits to outweigh any associated risks.

Parents often worry about the risk of myocarditis, a condition involving heart inflammation, which is seldom seen following COVID-19 vaccination and primarily affects young men. If this side effect occurs, it is overwhelmingly likely to be mild and temporary. The risk of myocarditis is significantly higher in individuals who contract COVID-19.

However, evidence does not indicate a risk for young children.

In studies involving children aged 5-11 years, there were no recorded cases of myocarditis. Even if instances arise as more children receive the vaccine, there is no data suggesting that the risk would surpass that of contracting COVID-19.

Additionally, the pediatric dosage of the Pfizer vaccine is one-third of the adult amount. The adult version contains a lower dosage than the Moderna vaccine. Data indicates that myocarditis occurs more frequently following the Moderna vaccine than the Pfizer vaccine. All these factors imply that the significantly smaller pediatric dosage will likely result in fewer side effects overall.

All these reasons bolster my confidence in my decision.

I deliberated carefully about whether to vaccinate my daughter against COVID-19. This wasn’t merely a matter of following the CDC’s recommendation or yielding to a doctor’s pressure.

I hope that parents who opt not to vaccinate their children against this virus can respect my choice.

Unfortunately, I am skeptical that this will be the case.

The issue has become highly politicized. There is an overwhelming amount of alternative information that disregards expert advice and the medical profession.

A significant portion of the American population struggles to accept various scientific principles and facts. What some perceive as science may not align with scientific practices. The rise of the internet has led to the proliferation of self-proclaimed “Dr. Google” experts.

It is challenging to discern what is true and what is not in such an environment.

Fear—and fear-mongering—surrounds this disease. COVID-19 has been manipulated through misinformation, leading to more deaths than might otherwise have occurred. The reality is that the pandemic has transformed into a political conflict rather than a medical one.

It has become highly politicized.

Regrettably, this polarization has fostered significant anger.

This anger can lead even the kindest individuals to behave in ways that are uncharacteristic, especially online.

In some communities, identifying as pro-vaccine can lead to ostracism. This reality may explain why some conservative politicians promote COVID denialism; they wish to avoid backlash from those who view pro-science stances as anti-American and therefore immoral.

My medical decision may be perceived by some as a societal affront.

Some may even consider me a negligent parent for choosing to vaccinate my child. Safe spaces for sharing these choices during the pandemic can be hard to find.

That’s why I refrained from posting about my daughter’s vaccination on my personal Facebook page; many of my acquaintances hold conservative views in our small, rural town.

Sadly, I cannot discuss my medical choice for fear of being insulted—or worse—by members of my community. I cannot express that my daughter is a superhero.

Perhaps one day, that will change.

All I can do as a parent is stay as informed as possible. I cannot subject my decision to a vote in a Facebook poll.

In the meantime, I comforted my daughter as she felt unwell after her shot.

And I reminded her that she’s my superhero.