Easter 2020 is a day etched into my memory. Late that night, I walked into my mom’s bedroom to break the news: my ex and I were divorcing. I kept it short, afraid I might break down, “He doesn’t want to be married to me anymore, and he’s moving out.”

My mom, as expected, was in shock. Tears streamed down her face as she stammered, “What are you going to do with the baby in your belly? If it were just your son, you’d manage, but how will you get through this with an unborn child?”

I didn’t have an answer. At five months pregnant, with a five-year-old at home, and in the middle of a global pandemic, I couldn’t see a way through. 

Night after sleepless night, I lay staring at the ceiling, haunted by the same questions: Will the kids be okay? How can I shield them from the pain?

One month later

My ex moved out. 

I vividly remember sitting in the living room one afternoon. My son was playing with his Lego, and I was curled up in the armchair reading a book.

My mom walked into the room, bewildered and in awe. “Wow, child. How could you sit still and take in anything from the book?” she asked, still reeling from everything.

I couldn’t explain it, but I felt an unshakable calm. Deep down, I knew I had to stay grounded—for my kids and myself.

But knowing isn’t doing

Shortly after, I got caught up in the legal battle—the conflicts, negotiations, and drama. I poured all my energy into my ex. Why did he make that decision? Why wouldn’t he budge? Why was he so mean? My mind was consumed with questions I couldn’t answer or control.

And in the process, I put my life on hold. Including being an engaged parent. 

Yes, I was there for my kids in the practical sense—making meals, driving them to school, keeping up with their activities—but emotionally? I wasn’t present. I wasn’t there.

I could see my son was struggling. But I didn’t know how to help him. My connection with my baby girl felt shallow. Tensions with my parents were at an all-time high. Our home was filled with yelling, tears, and chaos.

If I am completely honest, some days, I just wanted to leave. To run and hide.

Then one day

I caught my reflection in the mirror and saw someone I could barely recognize. The woman staring back at me looked so drained, and, most alarming, there was no light in her eyes.

That day, I decided: enough is enough.Something had to change, and it’s NOT my ex.

I decided it’s time to shift the focus back to me. Slowly, I began to lean into yoga and meditation. I attended retreats. I cut my hair, went to spas, and started my coaching certification training.

And I did not stop there. I learned about myself from my teachers, and I deepened my practice every day! 

Strangely, as I cared for myself and grew, the tension in my home started to ease. As I transformed from merely surviving to thriving, my kids did too!

Fast forward to 5 years later

Last night, after back-to-back swimming lessons, we came home, and the kids decided to put on a “live music light show.” They turned off all the lights, cranked up the beats on the piano, and grabbed every glowing toy they could find—Paw Patrol, glowing swords, bouncing balls—and we danced together for a good hour.

My four-year-old daughter grabbed an empty juice bottle as her “microphone.” “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the show!” she announced, sunglasses on, pretending she was at the beach. My ten-year-old son mixed hip-hop moves with karate kicks in his pyjamas.

And I was IN IT with them, dancing, laughing…

Fully present. Pure bliss. 

Will your kids be okay?

Yes, they absolutely will be okay—if you are okay! Our kids don’t need to be told the how-tos. The best gift we can give them is to lead by example.

So put the oxygen mask on you first, my friend. Take care of yourself. Build up your strength. Be your own compass.

Your kids will follow suit. 

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash