Hold your nearest and dearest tight – remember, we are the lucky ones

LATELY I’ve been holding my daughter extra tightly. Her response to this onslaught of extra affection is mostly ‘mum, get off!’ But I don’t care.

In the last year or two, I’ve stopped being able to watch TV shows or films where the main premise involves a parent separated from their child against their will.

I used to be a huge fan of The Handmaid’s Tale, first the book, and then the TV series but last year when the new season arrived on our screens, I just knew that I wouldn’t be watching it.

The main character’s separation from her daughter has taken a more central place in this season, the battle to be reunited with her while so powerless – I found I couldn’t bear to watch it. It left me with a horrible knot in my stomach and too many anxious thoughts.

And this is fiction. In the real world, some of us can choose to avoid looking at certain images and news stories that might upset or offend. I have friends who don’t watch or listen to the news from one day to the next. But if you work in the media, it’s your job and you get used to it.

During the pandemic, it was Covid for breakfast, lunch and dinner for two years. We almost longed for the days of Brexit and Megxit.

Now it is the war in Ukraine, and the images coming out from this are heartbreaking. A mum clutching her child’s scarf and bobble hat as paramedics perform CPR on her little girl after an artillery strike; a father sobbing as he holds the hand of his daughter as medics battle in vain to save her, still wearing her unicorn pyjamas, and there are countless others.

It being 2022, we are getting information and images from this war zone instantly on social media, which means Putin is fighting a losing battle in more ways than one. The Russian propaganda machine stands zero chance in a world where people on the ground can record and upload the truth within minutes.

A video of a Ukrainian girl named Amelia singing Let It Go in Ukrainian from the Disney hit Frozen while stuck in a bomb shelter in Kyviv went viral this week. A woman visiting the bunker filmed the little girl with the permission of her mother, and it has been viewed almost five million times on Twitter.

I watched it and sobbed from the comfort of my home office. I could hear her mum in the background telling her how wonderful she was, and my heart hurt.

I have a similar video on my phone right now, of my little girl singing the very same song, but in English, dressed up in her Elsa costume and surrounded by family, cake and presents as it was her birthday at the time. It is surreal.

To be able to tuck my child into bed at night in a safe and warm house is a gift. She is too young right now to know or ask questions about what’s happening in Ukraine. Her main concerns range from how many Smarties I’ve put on her snack plate after pre-school to why I am making her wear tights and not socks under her tutu (it’s 4C outside, that’s why).

At night, after the usual brush your teeth and stop jumping on the bed arguments, she settles down and we read a book. After this, the light is switched off and usually a quick chat follows about why foxes don’t like pain au chocolats or ‘did you know mummy that there is another Ada at pre-school and she’s my best friend?’. Shortly after this, she drifts off.

Recently, instead of me sliding off the bed like a ninja and creeping out, terrified of waking her and me never getting to go to my own bed, I stay put for a few minutes more. I listen to her breathing and watch her little hands rubbing the ears of her teddy bunny. Safe and sound.

We are the lucky ones.