So Monday was a crappy day all around. Started like a ’76 Ford Pinto and ended like a puppy smothered under a pillow.
Alarms are Going Off
The alarm clock made its first attempt at rousing me at 0515 hours, and I did smite it once or twice before getting myself vertical and thinking clearly. Then it was off to work, where I managed to get in a few hours before the shit hit the fan and I had to blow out of there for a family emergency.
Emergency? Yeah, we had a miscarriage scare. Yeah, we’re pregnant again. Fortunately, all is well, and once we hit the 12-week mark, we can all unclench a little bit and relax, as our odds of a miscarriage fall precipitously. So we spent a pretty good chunk of time at the hospital, bouncing between diagnostics and an OBGYN.
On the way home, we heard about the Boston Marathon bombing.
Are You Kidding Me?
I felt sick to my stomach hearing about it, but was somehow riveted to the news. The question I used to ask others, back when I was of the child-free mindset was: why would you want to bring a child into this world?
Spitting in the Face of the Present
Honestly, the amount of joy and happiness that Eddy brings to my life is amazing, so I can definitely see doing it again. However, that’s just a selfish reason. As a parent, I want my kids to be a part of the solution to the world’s woes, not a compounding factor.
This means that I need to teach him about the importance of helping other people when the time comes. Because there will be other events like Monday’s bombing — and hopefully none of my kids will be there when it goes down. But if they are, I want them to be the ones that rush to help, the ones that stand up straight and refuse to give in to fear, racism, ignorance, religion, and all the other factors that pit people against one another.
And I fervently hope that I’m not the only one thinking that way about their kids. Because if it’s not just me, if there are other parents who want to raise strong peacekeepers, then maybe, just maybe we can build a better future.