A Heavy Heart

These aren't words that haven't been being spoken, written or felt about this. But my heart is so heavy right now. They talk about survivor's guilt, I get that. The shooting makes me hurt on so many levels. The greatest is the empathy I have as a mother. This is our greatest fear- the horrific act taking our children's innocence. I've been thinking about this lately, even before Newtown- about my two growing up and starting school. I hint about how I'm not ready to go back to work but what I really feel is I'm not ready to let them go. I imagine it might have something to do with them being my only ones. Two at once. I assume if I had another, or others, younger than these two wouldn't seem so little. But they will always be my only, my babies.

 I don't actually believe hiding them from the world is protecting them, it just sounds simpler that way, safer. All day, it's just the three of us until we yell 'Daddy's home!' at night. I know tragedy/shootings, can happen anywhere and while my kids are with me. I just don't picture it happening at the children's museum, Target, or the park. But then who pictures it happening at school?

We had a busy weekend and I really haven't read or watched much of the coverage. We got home Sunday afternoon and I went to the computer. Mike walked in on me crying and I knew the kids would come in soon after. I had just read the story of Noah, whom you may be familiar with. He has a twin sister and another sister just a few years older. He was killed Friday. They survived. Max and Ella. A twin sister! What if? What if? What if?

But it wasn't ours. So we're left to remember these babies and teachers and honor those families who are suffering. 'I'm sorry,' my heart whispers for them. 'I'm so, so sorry!'

I also think about what this would be like for me as a professional. In my career, I was a school counselor. I counseled grieving students who lost parents, friends, classmates. But not on this level. I pray for this district, specifically for their school counselors and psychologists. I believe there are heroes offering hope and comfort to those hurting. I pray for the school faculty and staff as they find strength to go on through Christmas and eventually return to their schools.

Yesterday I also learned that sweet Daisy Love Merrick, our sweet local girl who has been battling cancer for years is back in the hospital with inoperable tumors, yet again. 'It's not fair!' I told Mike. Again I feel survivors guilt, why do we have it so easy?

Then mommy guilt. There have been so many times the past few days that I've been too short with my kids. I've been irritated or distracted, then overcome with emotion because what am I doing? My babies are here, healthy and safe! Hold them close! Encourage them, love them!  But life goes on. Only it doesn't feel right. So I pretend I'm a parent calling my office (when I had one). What guidance would I offer families? Then I try to live it.

Saturday Mike and I had his work Christmas party. The kids stayed overnight with my parents and we had an overnight in a gorgeous hotel on the beach (of course no kids, no camera). It was rainy and cold but we enjoyed a quiet day to ourselves. It was really nice. The next day we picked them up and took them to see Santa. But all the time I was anxious and a little uneasy. How does life just go on? I was in high school when Columbine happened and although it was upsetting, it didn't make me feel unsafe. Because I wasn't a mother. But today I'm rattled, and I'm praying to feel safe.

This morning I got an email that my Aunt is in the hospital. From what I understand her condition is not stable and she's not well. Lord, be with Dido, be with Uncle Johnny. Please take care of them, take their hurt away. 

So I ask again, how do we just go on? Because we have hope. We have to. Maxwell and Ella are looking to me to give it to them. Right now I have nowhere to look but up. God, give me the hope I'm talking about. Let it come from within, so we can share it with others. Protect us, keep us safe. 

Hugs to all you mothers who have encouraged me and supported to me through this silly blog the past five years.

Here was our annual trip to see Santa. Because I'm sensitive right now, everything's exaggerated  This was another blow for me. The past four years we have had the same Santa. A sweet, old man with a real beard. Then on Sunday there was this guy. I think I've said to Mike four times how crushed I was that 'our Santa' wasn't there.

'Do you think he died Mike?' 
'Meghan!'

His beard was definitely bought and paid for.