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It was mid-March 2021 and I sat in a plastic chair at Longs Drugs at Ala Moana Center, awaiting my first dose of the Moderna Covid-19 vaccine. I was so excited, so relieved, I actually cried.

At the time of any vaccine. Hawaii had reported 28,081 total cases—averaging 51 new cases a day—and 448 total deaths. Globally, there were , including 2.6 million deaths.

Mask-wearing was still required everywhere, schools were starting to implement hybrid learning after months of online only, the state’s Safe Travels program was in full effect, and many of us were slowly — if not reluctantly — starting to return to the office. (Remember: This was just before the delta variant surge.)

Though hotly debated, the Covid-19 vaccine was, for many of us, a godsend. People with Covid were really sick, suffering in hospitals, dying. This was how we were going to beat the virus, how we were going to get out of this crippling pandemic, how we were going to get back to some kind of normalcy. I was so grateful to get vaccinated — my mom is immunocompromised, my son has asthma — that I couldn’t see why anyone would pass up the opportunity. And it was free!

When the Federal Drug Administration authorized vaccines for kids 5 to 11 later that year, I immediately booked an appointment a few days after my son’s fifth birthday. It was, in my mind, the gift of health and — I was hoping — herd immunity.

I thought every parent I knew would do the same thing. We’re protecting our children from a virus that has in the U.S. Over for Covid-19 since the start of the pandemic.

Turns out, I’m in the minority when it comes to vaccinating my child. Just in the U.S are fully vaccinated, according to a New York Times database. (It’s 59% for kids 12 to 17.)

In an October 2021 , many parents who hadn’t vaccinated their kids cited concerns about potential long-term side effects, including how the vaccine would affect their child’s future fertility.

The FDA approved vaccines for kids under 5 this week — and has recommended them. But I’m wondering how many of the 20 million eligible children in the U.S. will actually get vaccinated.

It seems the trend for getting vaccinated is waning. According to the state Department of Health, . And though today’s Covid numbers are much higher (an average of 832 new cases a day) than they were back in March 2021 — when I was eagerly awaiting my first shot — only 41.2% of the population has received an initial booster shot, just 8.6% the second.

Are we getting complacent? Or are we just over Covid?

So I asked around. Most of my friends are vaccinated. But a few are waiting — for more data, for more information, for a compelling reason — to sign up their kids for the vaccine.

Then I got really curious.

I Googled, “Why are people opposed to Covid-19 vaccines?” That search came up with more than 1.3 billion results.

Reasons ranged from a general distrust in government to concerns about the speed at which these vaccines were created. Some believe Covid can’t kill the young and healthy. (It can.) Some think the vaccine will actually give them Covid. (It won’t.) And then there are others who are convinced the government is using vaccines as a way to implant microchips in us — with the backing of Bill Gates. (Interesting.)

Expectations for the vaccines have changed as variants emerged that appear more resistant to immunity, with breakthrough cases reported and some people even contracting the virus more than once.

Hope that the vaccines would eradicate the virus may have ebbed, but evidence is overwhelming that getting a shot usually prevents severe disease and death.

The truth is . So clearly the vaccine works. And unless more people get vaccinated, we’ll never reach the troublingly elusive herd immunity.

The longer people stay unvaccinated, the more chance a virus has to mutate. And let’s face it: Getting Covid sucks. I have friends who were stuck at home — and with their kids! — with fever, body aches and an irritating cough that stuck around for months. Some are and suffering with fatigue, insomnia and brain fog.

I’m not here to tell you what to do with your life and health — and I’m certainly not an expert in epidemiology. (I can barely spell it.) But whatever you decide to do, make sure you do your research, consult your doctors, talk with your family.

We all have to make the best decisions for ourselves — while considering our responsibility to the greater community, too.

Unless you think Covid is fake. Then I can’t help you.