In the aftermath of one of the most atrocious massacres we've ever seen, there has been a lot of talk. Talk of gun control. Talk of mental illness. Talk of family values. We all, understandably, want to figure out what we could have done to prevent something like this from happening, and what we can do to make sure it never happens again.
The awful truth is that we don't have any answers. And even more awful is the notion that no matter what we do, we probably can't completely prevent these violent outbursts from occurring, though we may be able to make them less deadly. We are going to continue talking for some time, and I do sincerely hope that we come up with some viable options to help us deal with all of the problems this massacre has forced us to identify.
But that still leaves me with the question - what can I do? Right now. I want to do something. I've been racking my brain trying to figure this out. And it finally hit me. We are reacting to something specific. And in doing so, we have missed a bigger picture. We are focusing on preventing the kind of senseless death that we have very, very little control over. It makes sense that in the wake of something this horrifying that would be our reaction. But, there are people that die senselessly in this country every day because of things that we actually could have prevented. Easily. I think the best thing we can do to honor the victims of Sandy Hook Elementary School is vow not to throw life away for no reason. If this nightmare has taught me anything it is how very precious our lives really are. I think every time we think of those children and the teachers who died with them, we should make a pledge to never take our own lives for granted:
I will not drink and drive.
I will not let my friends drink and drive.
I will not text and drive.
I will wear a helmet on any two-wheeled vehicle.
Maybe we even think long-term and consider:
I will take care of my cholesterol.
I will take care of my blood pressure.
I will exercise.
I will check the batteries in my smoke alarm.
I will (try to) quit smoking
I will not go to tanning salons
Would love for you to add to this list in the comments.
Death is all around us, every day. So much of it can be prevented. It is a devastating reality (and that is putting it mildly) that a psychopath with a gun can destroy dozens of lives in a matter of minutes. I will never be able to accept this, as long as I live. And I will continue to encourage and participate in the conversation to help limit the casualties in situations like the one in Newtown, CT. But in the meantime, let's all promise to try and eliminate the preventable deaths we deal with on a regular basis. Let's take control of the things that are actually within our power. Let's take care of ourselves and each other. Let's show the world that we really do value life, and that we are making an effort to preserve it. It's the least we can do.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
Facing Our Own Limitations
The day my son was born, I became a superhero. Provider of all needs. Solver of all problems. My superpower is a fierce intuition, instilled in me by the universe to care and protect my baby. To him, there is nothing I cannot do and no answer I do not have. He is still too young to fully understand these concepts, but his innate sense is that I am all he needs to remain happy, healthy, and safe. And in truth, I have convinced myself of these things, too.
As a mother, I have to believe to some extent that I can protect my son from the dangers of the world. I do all the things that mothers are supposed to do - careful carseat installation, cutting food into bite-size pieces, covering outlets and sharp table corners - to ensure that he is safe on a daily basis. I send him to an amazing accredited daycare with staff that I know and trust. I hug him and kiss him and read to him and make sure he knows how special he is and how very, very loved.
I do all that I can. And most days, it feels like it's enough. Most days it feels like I really can take care of this wonderful human being and shield him from the evils of the world. Most days are good days. But then there are other days. Days when I have to face the reality of my limitations. Days when something so devastating happens, something so mind-numbingly awful, that I have to admit that there are atrocities out there that could happen to us, that I am powerless to prevent. It is a terrifying reality to have to face.
Over the last few days, I have caught myself looking at my son with envy. At 16-months-old, he woke up on Saturday morning and his world was exactly as it had been the day before. He knows not of monsters with guns, of slaughtered children, of lives shattered with senseless violence. I look at him and I find I am amazed that innocence still exists. It feels as though the moment those lives were lost, all innocence should have evaporated into thin air. And then I am grateful that it hasn't. That as a parent of a child who is young enough to be oblivious, I can still protect him to some degree, at least for now.
But what of the children who are not too young to know? What about the children across the country who have heard about the shooting who now at seven or eight or nine have to wonder why the grown-ups, who they have always trusted implicitly, couldn't stop this from happening? How do we explain to them that the people they've always known as capable of anything couldn't protect Sandy Hook Elementary School?
In the wake of a tragedy, experts say the most important thing is to reassure children that they are safe. One of the biggest obstacles we all face in moving forward after something as awful as this, is finding a way to make those words feel true. We, as parents and teachers and caretakers have to be strong enough to make our children and students believe us when we tell them this. It is a particularly challenging task when we ourselves feel so shaken and scared. But this is what caring for children is all about. We hold them tight and we kiss their foreheads and we continue doing the best we can. We find a way to put our own fears aside so we can provide them with the security they need to get through another day. It's not about being all-powerful superheroes, it's about being there for them when they need us. Even when we're struggling ourselves.
As a mother, I have to believe to some extent that I can protect my son from the dangers of the world. I do all the things that mothers are supposed to do - careful carseat installation, cutting food into bite-size pieces, covering outlets and sharp table corners - to ensure that he is safe on a daily basis. I send him to an amazing accredited daycare with staff that I know and trust. I hug him and kiss him and read to him and make sure he knows how special he is and how very, very loved.
I do all that I can. And most days, it feels like it's enough. Most days it feels like I really can take care of this wonderful human being and shield him from the evils of the world. Most days are good days. But then there are other days. Days when I have to face the reality of my limitations. Days when something so devastating happens, something so mind-numbingly awful, that I have to admit that there are atrocities out there that could happen to us, that I am powerless to prevent. It is a terrifying reality to have to face.
Over the last few days, I have caught myself looking at my son with envy. At 16-months-old, he woke up on Saturday morning and his world was exactly as it had been the day before. He knows not of monsters with guns, of slaughtered children, of lives shattered with senseless violence. I look at him and I find I am amazed that innocence still exists. It feels as though the moment those lives were lost, all innocence should have evaporated into thin air. And then I am grateful that it hasn't. That as a parent of a child who is young enough to be oblivious, I can still protect him to some degree, at least for now.
But what of the children who are not too young to know? What about the children across the country who have heard about the shooting who now at seven or eight or nine have to wonder why the grown-ups, who they have always trusted implicitly, couldn't stop this from happening? How do we explain to them that the people they've always known as capable of anything couldn't protect Sandy Hook Elementary School?
In the wake of a tragedy, experts say the most important thing is to reassure children that they are safe. One of the biggest obstacles we all face in moving forward after something as awful as this, is finding a way to make those words feel true. We, as parents and teachers and caretakers have to be strong enough to make our children and students believe us when we tell them this. It is a particularly challenging task when we ourselves feel so shaken and scared. But this is what caring for children is all about. We hold them tight and we kiss their foreheads and we continue doing the best we can. We find a way to put our own fears aside so we can provide them with the security they need to get through another day. It's not about being all-powerful superheroes, it's about being there for them when they need us. Even when we're struggling ourselves.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
I'm Terrified of Having a Second Child
So, there it is. Right there in the title. My big confession. Matthew is about to be 16-months-old and given that pregnancy takes close to a year and you never know how long it will take to get pregnant, I'm right at the point of starting to think about having my next child. And it absolutely terrifies me.
It's an interesting place to find myself, because I had absolutely no fear before deciding to get pregnant the first time. I know many people worry about the major life change that is coming or the pain of labor or the ways that parenting is going to be difficult, but I didn't feel concerned about any of those things. Sure, I was anxious to see how parenthood would turn out, but my decision to get pregnant came with 100% conviction. I knew I wanted to be a mother and all of the other things seemed trivial in comparison.
This feels different. This time the hardships of parenthood are not unknown. This time I know what to expect and I know to expect it while also having a toddler to care for. This time it is not about becoming a mother, which was a need that trumped everything else. This time it is about enhancing the maternal (and paternal) experience and giving my son a sibling which I believe is the greatest gift we can ever give him.
These are great reasons, but they aren't great enough to drown out the fear. The fear of being too tired to give Matthew the attention he craves. The fear of losing the unbelievable bond that Scott and I currently have with our son. The fear of not loving a second child as much as I love the first. The fear that two children will make it impossible to focus on the grown-up things that we work so hard to focus on now. The fear that I will be unhappy. It's all there. And no matter how much my I know, in my mind and my heart, that I want to have more children, this scared voice is having a hard time being quieted.
So why am I telling you this? I don't usually write from such a personal standpoint, but I thought this was important to share. Not in the hopes that parents who already have two children will find me and reassure me that everything will be okay. In fact, I already know that everything will be okay. I know that it is perfectly normal, and even expected to have these kinds of feelings. I know that some of my fears will disappear the moment a second child is born and that some of things I'm concerned about really will be challenging. I know that many, many parents before me have gone through this transition and, even with some early struggles, have ultimately come out happier on the other side.
I'm sharing my fears with you because I think one of the hardest pieces in this parenting puzzle is that we don't talk enough. So many experiences that I've encountered on this journey so far - pregnancy, labor, post-partum adjustment - were made more difficult by the fact that there were so many things I just didn't know to expect. For some reason there is a lot that nobody says. I am trying to do my part in opening these avenues of communication. And so if there are people out there reading this who are feeling guilty or worried about the fact that they are scared of leaping into having a second child, I want them to know that they are not alone. Even I, the mom blogger who jumped into motherhood like I was preparing for it my whole life, am afraid. Every big change we make is scary. And there are real legitimate reasons to feel nervous.
What is important is not allowing our fears to stop us from doing the things we want to do. Life changes are always scary, but usually the anticipation is more frightening than the reality. Most importantly, if we're feeling afraid, let's talk about it. Let's realize that everybody feels a little apprehension before heading into these major transitions. Let's ask those who have gone before us for tips on easing into the first weeks and months of a two-child household. Let's not add to our list of fears by being afraid to talk about the things that are concerning us.
Wishing all my Jewish readers a Happy Chanukkah.
It's an interesting place to find myself, because I had absolutely no fear before deciding to get pregnant the first time. I know many people worry about the major life change that is coming or the pain of labor or the ways that parenting is going to be difficult, but I didn't feel concerned about any of those things. Sure, I was anxious to see how parenthood would turn out, but my decision to get pregnant came with 100% conviction. I knew I wanted to be a mother and all of the other things seemed trivial in comparison.
This feels different. This time the hardships of parenthood are not unknown. This time I know what to expect and I know to expect it while also having a toddler to care for. This time it is not about becoming a mother, which was a need that trumped everything else. This time it is about enhancing the maternal (and paternal) experience and giving my son a sibling which I believe is the greatest gift we can ever give him.
These are great reasons, but they aren't great enough to drown out the fear. The fear of being too tired to give Matthew the attention he craves. The fear of losing the unbelievable bond that Scott and I currently have with our son. The fear of not loving a second child as much as I love the first. The fear that two children will make it impossible to focus on the grown-up things that we work so hard to focus on now. The fear that I will be unhappy. It's all there. And no matter how much my I know, in my mind and my heart, that I want to have more children, this scared voice is having a hard time being quieted.
So why am I telling you this? I don't usually write from such a personal standpoint, but I thought this was important to share. Not in the hopes that parents who already have two children will find me and reassure me that everything will be okay. In fact, I already know that everything will be okay. I know that it is perfectly normal, and even expected to have these kinds of feelings. I know that some of my fears will disappear the moment a second child is born and that some of things I'm concerned about really will be challenging. I know that many, many parents before me have gone through this transition and, even with some early struggles, have ultimately come out happier on the other side.
I'm sharing my fears with you because I think one of the hardest pieces in this parenting puzzle is that we don't talk enough. So many experiences that I've encountered on this journey so far - pregnancy, labor, post-partum adjustment - were made more difficult by the fact that there were so many things I just didn't know to expect. For some reason there is a lot that nobody says. I am trying to do my part in opening these avenues of communication. And so if there are people out there reading this who are feeling guilty or worried about the fact that they are scared of leaping into having a second child, I want them to know that they are not alone. Even I, the mom blogger who jumped into motherhood like I was preparing for it my whole life, am afraid. Every big change we make is scary. And there are real legitimate reasons to feel nervous.
What is important is not allowing our fears to stop us from doing the things we want to do. Life changes are always scary, but usually the anticipation is more frightening than the reality. Most importantly, if we're feeling afraid, let's talk about it. Let's realize that everybody feels a little apprehension before heading into these major transitions. Let's ask those who have gone before us for tips on easing into the first weeks and months of a two-child household. Let's not add to our list of fears by being afraid to talk about the things that are concerning us.
Wishing all my Jewish readers a Happy Chanukkah.
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