Tuesday, January 22, 2013


My love for my children is indescribable.  I blog in a vain attempt to do the impossible, describe it, so that they can someday understand the things I felt raising them, loving them.  I'm proud I sleep only a few hours a night and that I grow food for us and that I make our own laundry detergent and dish soap and do everything in my power to protect them from food dye and pesticides and chemicals and bad television and sadness.  Some people call it being a super mom, which I'll proudly accept, but I certainly don't do it to brag about it on a blog a few people read.  I don't do it to someday guilt and/or embarrass my kids with when they are vengeful teenagers.  I am driven only by this need to protect them, from everything I can.

And though I bolted every piece of furniture to the wall,  and gated every doorway and hazard, though I ban toys made with unnatural substances, I know there are a thousand things I can't protect them from.  I don't need to be reminded so often.  But lately, it's all I hear.

The horrors of Newtown still fresh in all our minds.  The family massacre in New Mexico.  And right in the next town, a horrible fire, taking the lives of two beautiful girls, almost the exact ages of my two beautiful girls.

It takes a while for me.  To see, hear, comprehend, and then fall apart.  I've cried so many days for complete strangers in the past few months.  I'm tired of the crying, tired of the sadness, but I am so damn grateful that motherhood has made me empathetic enough to react this way.  I don't need more reasons to appreciate my kids, more reasons to hug them tighter, smell their heads for a second longer.  But they keep coming.

There is no greater fear you could imagine than the fear of not being able to protect your own child, from pain, from fear, from death.  I would die a thousand times to prevent that.  I would not ever want to live without them.

I can't help but imagine I were that mother.  It's a self inflicted pain I can not resist.  I can feel her sadness, her tragedy, her hopelessness, I hear her scream and I am screaming with grief in my head as tears roll down my face and soak my shirt and waves of grief wrack my body with breath sucking sobs until I'm too exhausted to cry anymore.  And, for added torture, when my vision returned, I made myself write this.  Because I want to remember how I feel right now.

Why am I trying to rationalize, to understand, to ignore, to distract myself? I know the results.  At least I can answer this myself,  maybe answer the girls' questions someday, if something similar happens.  The answers are difficult and emotional, but they are there.

The worst questions are always this way, because they will remain forever unanswered.

Why why why whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy