Friday we hustled around our apartment in preparation for our drive to Utah. The plan was to let Ivy get as tired as possible so she'd sleep for hours in the car. It wasn't long past nap time before the fatigue set in and she sat on the ground, extended her arms and cried "Mamamama." I rolled my eyes, picked her up and held her just long enough for the crying to cease, then put her down, handed her a pacifier and continued cleaning the kitchen.
A while later we were packed and loaded, Stephen and I in the front seats, Ivy and Ollie in the back. As the car started so did NPR and we heard the most devestating news of the elementary school shooting in Connecticut. As the reports turned more horrific and less hopeful, all I wanted to do was hold and comfort my baby. And I cried with horror and guilt thinking about those mothers who no longer could.
I can't even begin to imagine their grief and it almost feels disrespectful to try. But I think we need to grieve. We need to remember how terrible this was and we need to stop forgetting about these incindents and do something. Aurora felt personal as a Coloradan, but as a mother this feels much much worse. I don't want to find out how much more personal it can get.
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