My heart hurts right now. It hurts so very bad for those babies and their parents in Connecticut. I want to know why someone would be so willing to walk into a kindergarten classroom and begin shooting. Taking the lives of innocent children. I think of Ethan, as he is closest in age group. I think of how terrified I would be if I didn't know if he was okay. If all I knew was that he might be.
I think of how terrifying it must have been for those poor babies in the moments before their death. I think of how crushing it would be to rush to the school with the hopes that your baby was spared only to learn he wasn't. I think of the relief and guilt that floods those parents that found their children alive, if not well. Relief that tonight they get to hold their babies and tell them how much they love them. Guilt that they see other parents who will never have those moments again.
And I think of how easy it is for us to take our children for granted. How precious they are to us. How much we love them. I think about how angry I get with Ethan and how quickly I'm ready to leave his room at bedtime. And how selfish it seems to want my own time.
I think about how nice it is to hold them close and how much I want to do that now. And how much I need to remind myself even in the most trying of times that I get to hold my babies. I get to love my babies. I get to feel their sticky fingers wrapped around me. I get to hear their laughs and see their tears and share their excitements. I get to love my children and feel them.
And I will a thousand defiances from my oldest and a dozen nightly wake ups from my youngest a million over just to be lucky enough to have them in my life.
My heart bleeds for those poor parents in Newtown, CT who don't.