I had a nightmare last night involving one of my girls. Thankfully, I woke up before realizing the enormity of what was happening. I didn't want to know how it ended. Although shaken when I awoke, I calmed myself by checking on all three girls and hearing their steady breathing. Tragically, for some mothers and fathers in Connecticut, their nightmare is all too real and must feel right now as if it will never end.
I have to believe that my mind is unsettled with what happened to those 20 precious children in Connecticut last Friday. It's hard to wrap one's mind around it. One of my girls asked me why the gunman did it. I told her it would really scare me if we understood his motives. That might make us no different than him. I know I can't be the only one with troubling thoughts pressing on my mind. The question is, what to do about them?
I almost lost one of my girls six years ago. She became gravely ill with an infection that turned septic. It is difficult still today for me to think of that time. I must have been confused and dazed. My recollections of speaking with doctors is that they didn't believe I fully grasped the gravity of the situation. I heard the pediatrician say, "We're watching her demise right in front of us," while watching a wall of monitors. The attending in PICU told me I didn't have time to consult with my husband about a procedure they needed to perform if they had any hope at all of turning things around before all of her systems shut down. The doctors would conference outside my daughter's room with strain stamped on their faces. I long ago realized the reason I find it distressing to think of that incident: I have no Earthly idea what I would do if I lost one of my children. So I think of the parents in Connecticut and wonder how it is they are getting along. And I think we need to help them.
There is an immeasurable leap between "almost losing" and "losing" a child. I know this. I think of those parents in Connecticut and parents everywhere who have lost a child, and I wonder where they find the strength to go on. If I feel weak just thinking about the possibility, how must they feel having to adjust to the reality? It's incomprehensible. But we must think about it because tragedies like Sandy Hook are becoming all too common and far too frequent. We must find the strength to do something about it. There is no easy solution; if there were, someone already would have proposed it. But we must know that turning our backs or shutting off our minds to this because the challenge of tackling it is too problematic is not a solution. It is an invitation for these incidents to continue. We as a nation of parents, grandparents, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, and uncles must harness our might to make something happen. We have an obligation not only to Connecticut's twenty angels but to the survivors and to those born every day bearing a gift to all of us of hope for a bright future.
I am certain that one of my many "mommy quotes" that make my girls cringe is, "My job is to make you safe, not happy." While typically said in moments of frustration when I am attempting to deflect charges of unfairness or unreasonableness, it really is a simple truth of parenthood. Our job is to keep our children safe and, ultimately, to teach them how to keep themselves safe. And if we can extrapolate out from our own walls to include "the village" we all comprise, our job is to keep each other safe, especially our weakest and most defenseless. As so many worrisome thoughts percolate through my mind about my own children and the children in Connecticut, survivors included, I feel slightly panicked that we might lose the momentum we have right now to find a solution to these mass killings. I simply cannot believe that we would rather protect our rights to own assault rifles and all of their deadly accessories than our children. We must act. We can provide strength to those who have lost a child, we can make certain that these all too short lives were not in vain, and we can rededicate ourselves to keeping safe our most vulnerable.
Although I may not like what my mind is telling me, especially in the deep sub-conscious state of sleep,
I believe it is poking at me to make me act. This tragedy has evoked visceral fears and made our emotions raw. We don't all agree on solutions or even the problem itself. Let's not let that be a reason to turn away. Let's not put up walls because it is too hard. Think of those that must go on despite unimaginable loss. Let's put ourselves in their shoes for a short walk. How far could we go? Think about it, and in our awake and aware state, let's use intellect and reason to find a way to keep each other safe.
