When the World Stopped Turning

Where was I? At home asleep. I had worked a late shift the night before and my husband had just come home and crawled in bed next to me after a graveyard shift. The house phone rang and I ignored it. (This was when you had to get up and go into another room to retrieve said phone.) When it rang twice more, almost immediately, I knew something was wrong.

I had no clue that something was so. so. very. wrong.

"Turn on the TV right now!" was all my friend said. I did. And my heart broke into a million-billion pieces, along with the rest of the world. I can remember so clearly the shock and confusion and tragic sense of loss I felt, along with rest of the world. I sobbed and watched and sobbed some more, along with the rest of the world.

It didn't go away, that feeling. It just compounded as things just. got. even. more. terrible. The days and weeks following that abhorrent morning had me sad and hopeless and terrified. I was pregnant that morning. 7 months along with a beautiful daughter. My other beautiful daughter was in kindergarten. I cursed myself for being so stupid as to bring not one, but two children into such a merciless and depraved world. What was I thinking!? How could I be so irresponsible?? What had I done?!

Fast forward to 14 years later. My oldest was now 19. My youngest was 6. I had brought not one or two but four amazing and incredible children into the world. 

I was laying in bed and got a text from my 14 year old. "MOM! Another school shooting happened today. I just can't. Why?? Why does stuff like this keep happening? Why do we have to live in a world like this??" And tears streamed down my face as I remembered cradling her body that was inside of my body as I asked myself the very same question with my soul fractured and shattered. 

I texted back and said: My sweet, beautiful daughter. I wondered the same thing the day of the World Trade Center attack. I was pregnant with you at the time and I felt so horrible for so many weeks because I had been selfish enough to bring a child into the world. I was downward spiraling in the worst way and I didn't know what to do or how to cope. And then you were born. And I held you. And, I was filled with indescribable peace and hope. I realized that dark would always exist in the world. Evil, malicious cruelty. Hate. Senseless violence. Tragic savagery. And the only way to fight it was to bring light. You are a bringer of light. You are kind and compassionate and tenderhearted. You are lovely and talented and helpful. I'm so very sorry you were born into a world and time that is filled with so much dark. I'm so sorry you have to worry and be sad and feel helpless. But we need you. We need your light.

On the day of the attacks and the weeks, months and years following, there were so many bringers of light. I was reminded of that again when I got the chance to visit the Memorial Museum. It was so mournful I almost couldn't bear it. But there were stories, examples, displays everywhere that showed unbelievable courage and sacrifice and compassion. Bringers of light. 

There will be darkness. Lots of it. Bickering, betrayal, needless bloodshed, hurtful words, hurtful acts. It can be so overwhelming and depressing and bleak. I find myself worrying and anxious often. Anxious for myself. Anxious for humanity. Anxious for my children and for their future children. But I hope they choose to have children. To go through the agony of having them born into this sometimes terrible world. 

Because we really need them to bring their light.