Over the past few weeks, my household has been deep in what many parents know all too well: winter sick season.

I am a working mother of three children, two of whom are still in preschool and daycare. Since the middle of February, our home has been visited by strep throat, norovirus, coxsackie virus, the common cold, and fevers that seemed to take forever to break.

First my two-year-old got sick. Then, just a few days later, my five-year-old followed.

There were pediatrician visits. Then repeat visits.
There were disrupted routines for everyone.

There was medication refusal, frequent night wakings, and a level of sleep deprivation that only parents of sick children truly understand.

One child vomiting in the middle of the night.
Another spiking a 103.7 fever.
Lots of crying.

And while it felt like forever, the reality is that this phase lasted about three weeks.

During this time, something became very clear to me—something I often talk about with clients, but this time experienced in a deeply personal way.

Two things can be true at the exact same time.

Opposing, paradoxical, and complex emotional realities can coexist.

I love my children deeply and value being their safe space and comfort zone when they aren’t feeling well.
And I am exhausted, irritable, and anxious.

Exhausted from the lack of sleep.
Irritable because exhaustion shortens my fuse.
Anxious about what missing multiple days of work might mean for my private practice.

As my anxious mind began revving its engine and my “parent guilt” voice started whispering that I shouldn’t be tired when my children were the ones suffering, I was fortunate to access another part of my mind—the part that is kind and compassionate.

The part that reminds me:

Motherhood is hard.
Parenthood is hard.
And struggling within it does not mean we are doing it wrong.

This compassionate voice helped me remember that I am not alone, and that I have permission to feel whatever shows up for me in any given moment.

I can feel drained and deeply engaged as a parent.
I can feel frustrated and calm.
I can notice moments where I am less patient than I’d like and still be a loving, devoted mother.

Two things can be true.

Reflecting on these past weeks also reminded me of something fundamental about being human: suffering is universal. Every one of us encounters moments that stretch us beyond what feels comfortable.

But within those moments, we have a choice in how we respond.

During the turbulence of winter illness season, I tried to respond to myself with three things:

Validation:
“Of course I’m tired. Anyone would be.”

Growth:
“I am capable of handling more than I think I can.”

Compassion:
“This is hard, and I am still showing up as the kind of mother I value being.”

When we practice responding to our own suffering with validation instead of criticism, something important happens. Our nervous system softens. Our shame quiets. And we create space to keep showing up in ways that align with our values.

So this month, I invite you to reflect on your own experiences.

Can you think of a recent moment when two things were true at the same time?

Maybe you felt grateful and overwhelmed.
Proud and uncertain.
Patient and completely depleted.

And when the pangs of parental burnout (or simply human burnout) appear, consider experimenting with a compassionate phrase you can offer yourself.

Some examples might be:

• “Of course this feels hard. I’m carrying a lot right now.”
• “Two things can be true. I love my family and I am exhausted.”
• “I am allowed to feel this.”
• “This moment is hard, and I am still showing up.”
• “I can be imperfect and still be a good parent.”

Parenthood does not require perfection.
It requires presence.

And sometimes presence looks like rocking a sick child at 2:30 a.m. while reminding yourself, gently:

This is hard. And I am doing the best I can.