Before the era of widespread vaccination, infectious diseases cast a long and deadly shadow over American childhood. In 1900, nearly one in five children in the United States never reached their fifth birthday, with diseases like whooping cough, measles, rubella, and polio claiming millions of young lives or leaving survivors with lifelong disabilities. Over the next century, vaccines would transform this grim reality, virtually eradicating once-dreaded scourges and drastically reducing the toll of others. Yet, as immunization rates decline and vaccine hesitancy rises—even among public officials—these diseases are making a troubling comeback.The very success of vaccines has, paradoxically, bred complacency and skepticism. “This concern, this hesitancy, these questions about vaccines are a consequence of the great success of the vaccines – because they eliminated the diseases. In a time before vaccines, childhood illness often meant death. Infectious diseases like polio, measles, rubella, and whooping cough once swept across communities unchecked, claiming young lives and leaving others permanently disabled. In 1900, nearly one in five American children didn’t live to see their fifth birthday, and infectious disease was the primary cause but with the advent of vaccines, these illnesses were nearly eradicated.The widespread success of vaccines may ironically be their undoing. "This concern, this hesitancy, these questions about vaccines are a consequence of the great success of the vaccines – because they eliminated the diseases. The decline in visible cases has led to a loss of fear, and in many cases, respect for the devastating consequences of these illnesses.The current climate has given space for anti-vaccine activists to amplify rare side effects while ignoring the profound benefits of immunization. Suspicion around well-established vaccines has even reached political figures like Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a longtime anti-vaccine advocate.However for some families, the horrors of these once-common diseases remain a vivid reality. For them, every news report of a measles outbreak or rising whooping cough cases is a painful reminder of lives forever changed—and a plea to spare others from similar suffering.Janith Farnham, 80, from Sioux Falls, recalls with clarity the moment she realized her newborn daughter Jacque wasn’t developing normally. Jacque was born with congenital rubella syndrome after Janith contracted the virus early in pregnancy, a time when the rubella vaccine wasn’t available."Things weren’t right," Janith said. Jacque was unresponsive to sound, resisted touch, and had a purring heart murmur that required early surgery. Today, Jacque is 60, living with numerous complications including deafness, diabetes, glaucoma, and arthritis. Despite these challenges, she maintains a close and affectionate bond with her mother, who still sees her nearly every day.Janith, who once taught special education, knows firsthand the consequences of a disease now preventable with a routine shot. "It’s more than frustrating. I mean, I get angry inside," she said. "I know what can happen, and I just don’t want anybody else to go through this."Patricia Tobin still remembers the scream of her mother the day her younger sister Karen collapsed in their home. It was 1970 in Miami, and Karen, only six, had contracted measles during an outbreak. The vaccine was available but not yet mandatory.Tobin, then 19, had rushed Karen to the hospital, where she immediately fell into a coma and died of encephalitis. "We never did get to speak to her again," she said.Today, vaccination is required for school entry in all U.S. states, but increasing exemptions are threatening herd immunity. The legacy of fraudulent studies falsely linking the MMR vaccine to autism has left a long shadow. Most states now fall below the 95% threshold needed to prevent measles outbreaks."I’m very upset by how cavalier people are being about the measles," Tobin said. "I don’t think that they realize how destructive this is."Lora Duguay, 68, of Clearwater, Florida, has lived through polio not once, but twice. Her first encounter was at age three, when she was hospitalized and packed in ice. Doctors told her parents she would never walk again.After extensive therapy, she regained mobility and led a full life until her 40s, when post-polio syndrome struck. Her condition worsened over time, but she found purpose through art. "Art gives me a sense of purpose," Duguay said.Today’s polio vaccine is far more effective, and widespread use has all but eradicated the disease in the U.S. Thanks to herd immunity, even imported cases don’t spread. But Duguay’s story is a stark reminder of what could happen if vaccination rates drop.Katie Van Tornhout, from Lakeville, Indiana, lost her daughter Callie Grace to whooping cough in 2010, just 37 days after her birth. Born premature but healthy, Callie started coughing a month in. Within days, she was gone.Callie was too young for her own Tdap vaccine and was likely infected by someone who hadn’t had their booster. Her ashes rest in a small urn beside mementos and a plaster cast of her tiny foot.Van Tornhout now shares her story widely and advocates for childhood immunizations through Vaccinate Your Family. "It’s up to us as adults to protect our children – that’s what a parent’s job is," she said. “I watched my daughter die from something that was preventable … You don’t want to walk in my shoes."The resurgence of diseases like measles and whooping cough is a stark warning. Falling vaccination rates, fueled by misinformation and complacency, threaten to undo decades of public health progress. The consequences are not abstract—they are deeply personal for families who have lived through the suffering these diseases cause.Experts note that if you’re not familiar with the disease, you don’t respect or even fear it. And therefore you don’t value the vaccine. The stories of Janith, Patricia, Lora, and Katie are a powerful reminder of what’s at stake.Vaccines are among the greatest achievements of modern medicine, saving countless lives and sparing families untold grief. Yet, as memories fade, so does vigilance. The experiences of those who have suffered—and those who have lost—should serve as a call to action.Disclaimer: This article includes story inputs and reporting from the Associated Press (AP) agency.