I’d like to think I’m not an overprotective mom. Cautious, yes, but not overprotective.
But lately, well, I don’t know. There’s been Newtown. The Colorado movie theater shooting. The Boston Marathon bombing. The Ohio kidnappings. And now, the heartbreaking story of the devastating tornado in Oklahoma.
Maybe it’s the constant, 24/7 media coverage of these stories that makes these tragedies more tangible, more relatable. Or are these terrible things – whether they are the result of Mother Nature or by monsters masquerading as men – happening more frequently? Or, as a parent, am I more attuned to them, now that I have two little ones who I would protect with my life?
On the other hand, I’ve been a parent now for more than six years and I don’t ever recall feeling this kind of … I don’t know … fear? anxiety? … that I’ve felt this past year.
All I know is that my Mama Bear instincts are kicking in. Big time. It’s like a reaction I can’t control. I hear these stories and I just want to keep my kiddos close to me at all times, to protect them and keep them safe. If that means we turn into agoraphobic hermits, staying home with the doors locked and the windows shut, then so be it.
And I hate that feeling. Because it’s not who I am. But I just can’t help it.
The rational side of me knows that these tragedies – while horrific – are the exception, not the norm. I know we’re far more likely to be impacted by a car accident or illness than a school shooting. I know my kids need to go to school and I need to go to work and we need to continue living our lives.
But in all these cases, kids my son’s age were among the casualties, be it from injuries or the unspeakable. When I try to imagine the fear those children must have experienced, whether it was huddling in their classroom as gunshots rang around them, or this story about how daycare workers sang “You Are My Sunshine” to little kids Mimi’s age as the tornado tore the roof off of their building, my chest tightens and I can’t breathe and I struggle not to cry. I can’t help but put myself in the shoes of those grieving parents who lost children in such tragic and senseless ways and imagine how they must be feeling. Because they never thought they’d be in that position either.
Today I am trying hard to fight my inner Mama Bear as I put my son on the school bus with a bright, fake smile while inside I hope and pray that I’ll see him again this afternoon. I know this sounds overly dramatic. And if you had told me last September, on the first day of kindergarten, that I’d be thinking these thoughts, I would have thought you were crazy. C’mon, that’s just being paranoid, right?
But if anything, these terrible tragedies have taught me an important lesson: Life is short. And precious. Don’t take anything for granted. Be thankful for every day you have with your loved ones. I know I will.
Hannah says
I fight this every day. The aching fear of “what if”. . . And the struggle of a smile as I walk my older daughter to school and drop my younger one off at preschool. The fear jolts me awake at night. It hits me in weird and even really beautiful moments with my children. And I too put myself in the place of the grieving parent and that ache is unbearable. I have to listen to the radio of my favorite funny talk show host just to get the relief. . . and my feelings are only based on the “what if”. I try to give the extra hug or read the extra book or spend the extra moments with the kids even if we are late for school or an activity. Life is short and precious.
Heather @ Kraus House Mom says
I think about all that too. My kids always ask to play in the front yard and I won’t let them. They have to go in the back yard that’s fenced in and they have to bring the dog out there with them or no deal.
Sharon - MomGenerations.com says
I’m in tears reading your post today… tears for the kids and parents and grandparents and communities of these tragedies; and for you and me and everyone who feels this pain and fear in places that well up to the surface so clearly and sometimes so unexpectedly. My mind and heart cannot reconcile all of it… and I wonder how we all get through it. It is the moments, the simple, beautiful, precious moments, that get us through…
Jackie Hennessey says
It’s OK, Jessica. I understand what you’re feeling. You are a wonderful mother and it’s only natural for you to feel this way. I too think about the awful, unspeakable “what if’s” and it kills me. It’s only natural to want to bubble wrap our children when everything around us feels like the end of the world. I can’t stop thinking about the Oklahoma tragedy and those sweet innocent children. My way of coping? I turn off the TV and make sure to spend quality time with my children …especially during these times. To put down my iPhone…re-schedule a conference call..and enjoy them. Hug them. Smell their hair. And live for today. And thank God that I have them here with me right now. Right here.
Kristin Wheeler (Mama Luvs Books) says
OMG! I know exactly how you feel. I have been feeling this way ever since the tornadoes. I just had a talk with hubby last week, because I told him I am anxious and worried and hate feeling this way, but I don’t trust anyone anymore. I feel awful about it, but I leave places if someone looks suspicious to me. Hubby tried to talk me down off the ledge and put things into perspective, but I’m having a hard time with it too! It seems like too much all of a sudden!
Cheryl at Busy Since Birth says
I hate to admit it, but I’ve been feeling that way too. It’s just been too much the past year. My boss, who is the same age as my parents, says there have always been things, like he remembered having to explain rioting in LA during the Rodney King trial to his son. But having been a kid then myself, I don’t remember my parents explaining all these things to me. I’m usually very upfront with Hannah, but this time I just said, “there was a tornado in Oklahoma and a lot of people got hurt, many died, including kids.” And that’s all. I just don’t have it in me to do more than that right now.
Appreciate you writing this.
Robin | Farewell, Stranger says
Such a horrible feeling. We’re in Canada so I feel a little bit removed from this, but it’s still something that hits in the heart every time. I think all you can do, like you said, is appreciate the sweetness.
Visiting from Honest Voices link-up.
Beamerleinwand says
Impressive concerns entirely, you simply earned the latest audience. What exactly may anyone suggest in regards to your current send that you created 7 days ago? Every guaranteed?