Story by
It’s almost nine a.m., and according to my Apple Watch, I’ve almost reached my 30 minute running goal for the day. I’m circling back around to where my car is parked, feet pounding the pavement, a completely clear blue sky above me. After so many months of not running thanks to bad knee pain, it feels so good to let myself fly.
I check my watch again, just about three minutes left so I pick up my speed.
At first I’m not certain what I hear. I’ve got a podcast in my ears, I’m breathing heavy, and I think maybe it’s just bird calls, so I keep going. But the noise gets louder and louder until I can tell it’s at the top of the road.
A police siren. No, multiple police sirens. And they’re heading past the road I’m on in the direction of the school.
I stop in place. I don’t even realize at first that I have stopped. But my heart has started hammering even faster than it was when I was running.
I tell myself to take deep breaths, that it’s nothing, that the sirens aren’t even going to the school, they’re just going past the school. But, I’m just a couple of streets over from the school and that’s immediately where my mind goes: There’s a shooting at the school.
I listen, straining my ears to see if I can figure out if they’ve gone past or if they’ve stopped at the school. After a few minutes of quiet, I can tell the sirens have continued on, past the school, to whatever emergency they were actually racing to.
I take a deep breath. My watch buzzes, telling me I’ve hit my goal. I walk with heavy feet back to my car, open the door, and sit inside to calm my nerves before starting it up and heading home - taking the long way so that I can drive past the school, just to double check.
And that is what it’s like to be a parent in America.
///
There hasn’t been a day since I became a parent ten years ago that I don’t worry I’m going to lose my children to gun violence. I’m constantly on alert, searching out exits and people who seem suspicious.
At the movies, I’m looking at every single person who comes in - are they here to enjoy the film, or do they have ulterior motives? If something happens, how will I shield both of my boys? Would we be able to make it to the exit at the bottom of the theater in time?
At the grocery store, I go out of my way to make eye contact and smile with nearly everyone, as if to assure them that I’m a good person and my life and the lives of my kids should be spared.
When I drop my kids off at school each morning, no matter how frustrated I may be with them, I give them hugs and kisses, and make sure to tell them I love them, just in case it’s the last time that I see them. I need them to know that I love them.
I am a privileged white woman, with white male children, and I still have to look behind me every single day worried that the next mass shooting will happen at my doorstep. Just imagine how our BIPOC brothers and sisters feel. I can only imagine the terror that must flow through their veins day in and day out.
This is what it’s like to be a parent in America.
///
As I’m sure many fellow American parents have, I’ve daydreamed about moving to another country, a safer country. One where guns aren’t more important than my children’s lives. I look at the statistics, I see the happiness levels, and I get absolutely outraged that in America, these are the fears that we are facing every single day.
I am so damn sick of being scared every time I leave my house. That it’s no longer a guarantee that my children will graduate high school or college without experiencing a horrific act of gun violence.
And at the same time, I feel so defeated. I know we are making incremental change. I know that the organizations that are out there that have been pushing for reform are getting somewhere. But even still, every time my kindergartener has to participate in an active shooter drill - not the tornado and fire drills I practiced as a kid - I can feel a rising tide of emotions. My blood boils as tears pool in my eyes. I hate this, and I’m terrified of this.
I am so scared.
I am so scared.
I am so scared.
This is what it’s like to be a parent in America.
We want to hear YOUR story on motherhood and caregiving because your experience is unique and needs to be heard. Learn more about how to write for us and a list of topic ideas by reading our Guidelines post here.