I'm just trying to wrap my head around it

Friday morning I dropped my oldest off at school with a kiss, an I love you and I'll see you after school.

This is a Monday through Friday routine.

I know that I will pick her up after school every school day, see her blond hair blowing in the wind as she runs towards my van, see her smile as soon as she sees mine and hear her sigh after putting her backpack down.

This has been our routine for the last five years.

It has always felt like a safe, normal thing to do.

Friday changed all of that.

No longer is there that bubble surrounding elementary schools anymore.

The feeling of sanctity.

That has been tainted.

When I initially heard what had happened in Connecticut the first thing I wanted to do was to get Adison from school.

I wanted her here, with me, in our home.

But I didn't, I resisted my fear and waited.

Oh, the precious sight of that blond hair, the grin, the dropping of the backpack.

Tonight, there are 20 moms and dads who are missing their babies.

Who never could have imagined something like this happening.

There are 26 families whose lives are now torn apart.

How?
How could something like this have happened?

I know that is something that we will probably never have the answer to.

But as a mom I want to know what to do to keep my babies safe.

Seeing the pictures of these 20 children hit home hard.

My Ainsley is 5.

These children were only a year or two older than her.

How could my life continue on without her?

How could life continue on without any of my children?

How?
How are they able to make it from one moment to the next without their children?

My heart breaks at their pain, it is unimaginable.

I have spent my weekend grieving alongside these families.

They have been in my thoughts and on my mind ever since the news was released.

I have also spent it loving on my kids even more than normal.

Tonight we took the kids to a light show at a local show.

I heard their giggles and their exclamations as to their favorite part.

I felt the weight of them on my body, one on each leg and Adison's head resting upon my shoulder.

The tickle of their hair on my face.

To never have that again ...

I can't go there.

My brain won't let me and my body will not consider it without a rush of tears.

These moms and dads, sisters and brothers, grandparents and cousins, aunts and uncles, friends, I am so very sorry.

Sorry for all that you have lost, for the part of your heart that is missing.

I am sending love to you, love and prayers.