They say that the Boomers who were born towards the end of the World War were used to hearing the distant ‘booms’ of bombs being dropped. They were raised in a time when soldiers ruled the streets and curfews turned bustling towns into ghost towns. My grandmother always said they had to light up the house from one oil lamp and cover the windows so that the luminescence could not be seen from outside.

I often wondered at the sad life a newborn was born into at that time. Not being allowed to cry, cackle or open their eyes into a bright, promising new world. Yet here I am, a millennial raised in the wave of the technological uprising and raising two little boys in the modern world, worried about the same things that happened in 1946.

While countries play ‘catch my bomb if you can’, the rest of us can’t help playing multiple scenarios in our heads. Just what if… What if the war escalates? What if the war spreads to Europe? Do I flee home? What if it's too late to take the planes? How sure am I that Africa won't be affected? What if I am raising two boys with all my heart so that they end up as somebody’s pawn soldiers in a lose-lose war?

Just when my husband and I had finally decided to plant roots in one place, we found ourselves shaken by the new state of the world. The ongoing war between America and Iran would escalate and require Nato member states to join forces. That would leave us who reside in Europe smack dab in the middle of the war. What happens to the life we built here? Our investments, our children’s futures? As a result, my husband and I are forced to go back to the drawing board in terms of planning a future.

How do we plan for a future for our kids when we don’t know what we will wake up to tomorrow? And what if we delay on making the said plans and miss out on big opportunities? Do we live with optimism for a better tomorrow, or should our plans be based on harsh realities with a hint of draconian possibilities?

As I lay my six-month-old to sleep every night, looking at his sweet, innocent phase, I can't help but wonder if someone somewhere will press a button that will ruin his childhood. I was a student when the Syrians fled war in Syria in 2015. I saw some of the refugees setting up camp at the Hamburg Central station with my own eyes. I could just feel for those mothers who had little kids and had to walk thousands of kilometres to get to safety. I prayed then and I pray now that no other mother will be forced to go through such horrors again, while trying to protect their babies.