For Christmas this year, we went to Cyprus to visit friends and family. We had packed and were ready to go. My eldest had been counting down the days for weeks, excited to visit her grandfather and play with her cousins. And then my youngest got a fever that wouldn’t go down two days before we left.

Why now? Why me? I need to get this fever down. She has to feel better. We cannot board the plane with her sick. I am not going home with a sick child. She picked the right time! What are the odds? How unlucky can we be? I hate wintertime. This always happens. 

Perfectly normal reactions that any mother would have had, right? Unavoidable and understandable. I couldn’t prevent them from showing up to do their nasty job of making me feel anxious, resentful, fearful, and victimised.

But just as much as I couldn’t change the fact that my youngest was sick, I could choose how long I allowed these negative thoughts to stay.

I saw them for what they were and chose to leave them aside, connecting to my true self who knows that everything in life, including that particular moment, was a gift or an opportunity. Despite me not sleeping much on the day of the flight, I saw it as an opportunity to get some extra cuddles in (lately she’s been so active that we hardly had any snuggle time), to show her and feel my love (is there a more positive feeling in the world?), and to practice being flexible, forgiving and compassionate towards myself.

Would you leave your hand on a hot stove after realising the burning, painful sensations on your hand?