When our children are sick, the World turns upside down. Your mind races, your heart breaks with them, you feel useless at times, and you would give anything to take their place so that they do not feel pain. My heart broke over and over again yesterday as my little boy was screaming to just be in my arms while doctors held him down to administer test after test. His eyes never left my own and I cried with him. There was a moment where my teardrop melted in with his and it was that moment where I just lost it.

We came home today and he went straight to sleep with his brother without much play or fun. He seems very down and a little traumatized from the entire event. I knew that I should sleep as well, but my heart and mind would not let me, so instead I did what works best for me in times like this; I found a mantra and I meditated to it.

Every inhale the “I” and every exhale the “accept”. I accept. I accept that my son looked me straight in the eyes as a needle went into his tiny hand and he screamed. I accept that after 3 hours of crying I felt absolutely useless as a mother. I accept that when he slept on my chest last night, I freaked out over every natural movement and accidentally woke him up a few times from fear. I accept that he is still wearing his name band around his wrist because I cannot find the scissors. I accept that my house is a complete disaster because I chose to recite a mantra instead of clean my home. I accept that I was rude and snappy to the man who loves me with all of his heart because of exhaustion. I accept that I felt like a complete failure yesterday and could do nothing about it. I accept that my son is only content when he is on my left hip. I accept that I cannot take pain away from him but I can be there with a million kisses.

I accept.

And with that, I move on with love and, I hope, a bit of grace.