A young Haitian boy, pre-earthquake. Photo courtesy of Benjamin-Cole Brown.

A few months ago I was asked to take part in a humanitarian relief project in Les Cayes, Haiti which was to begin on January 27th. You don’t know me, so I should probably mention that social justice is my passion. There are certain moments in our lives that define us. Experiencing Africa was one of mine.

I debated about the trip to Haiti for two months, but then over Christmas, with some down time and room to think, I decided I would go. If it had been on my mind, and in my heart that long, it seemed like something I should pursue. It was a leap of faith.

Another thing you should know about me is that I’m a single mother to a seven year old boy. A sensitive, brilliant boy, who is generous enough to share his mom with children who don’t have parents. He cares about others. He wanted to come with me to help, but Haiti wasn’t a place for a young boy. I couldn’t bring him; he was disappointed.

And so I paused.

I asked myself the big question: Do I sacrifice my passion—the thing that makes me unique apart from anyone else—for my child?

Some of you are reading this and thinking, “Duh?! Child! Hello!” It’s ok. I can take it. But I believe that some of you reading this understand being pulled in those two directions. Self? Child? Passion? Diapers?

As parents, we are often called to put aside our needs for those of our children. It’s the name of the game. We all get that. But what happens if, in doing so, we begin to lose ourselves? You hear stories of parents (many women) who, after giving everything to their families for years, suffer real identity crises when children leave the nest. There must be a balance.

And this is where things get tough.

On Tuesday, the world became aware of the devastation that a 7.0 magnitude earthquake had on an already grossly impoverished nation. An estimated 3 million people have been affected by this disaster—something no one in Haiti can afford.

Most of Haiti’s approximately 9 million residents already live on $1 US/day. They are the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. Cite-Soleil, a shanty town in the capital of Port-au-Prince, is the poorest neighbourhood in the world with 300,000 people living in abject poverty. As the death toll reaches close to 100,000 people, my heart breaks. It has broken for Haiti for a long time, which is why I wanted to go there.

Activism is a part of my nature, but my son is a part of me—literally. In light of the severity of the situation, and the risk associated with going, I’ve decided to stay at home. If I could, I would jump on a plane right now. But I have a responsibility to my son, which—for me personally—outweighs the deep desire I have to go. I’m not judging here. If you’re a parent on your way there now, I stand firmly behind you. This was a personal decision to me. It was a safety issue. I’m going to leave this one up to the pros.

But it got me thinking about sacrifice. I’m certainly no martyr here. I just had to make a choice that was incredibly hard for me. It doesn’t compare in any light with the suffering and pain that those people of Haiti are going through right now.

But personal sacrifice looks different to all of us. I’m still learning so much about being a woman, and a mom. I’m curious about your take on this.

What have you had to give up for your family? How do you balance your personal desires with those of your children? What are you passions?

Bryna is a mother, blogger, public relations professional and humanitarian relief worker. She currently works as Communications Specialist for Engine Communications in Belleville, Ontario.