By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County

I am sitting here stunned and numb at my computer in my office at 9:15 p.m.  All week for one reason or another I have been working long hours and late hours.  I have seen no news.  I have only watched one event in the Olympics (You will remember my obsession with curling from my last blog).  I have spent most of my time staring at a computer screen “getting work done”. 

Today during my fifteen minutes of self-care time, I jumped on the computer to learn there was another school shooting.  With mass casualties. 

There will be finger pointing.  There will be judgement.  There will be much talk about political issues. 

But what I want there to be is a path to resolution.  I want my son to be safe.   I want him safe at home.  I want him safe at school.  I want him safe at church.  I want him safe at the movie theatre. 

I want more than that.  I want my son’s friends safe.  I want his schoolmates and his classmates safe.  I want my nieces and my nephews safe. 

I want the innocence returned. 

I will spend the next few days monitoring my son’s interactions, what he watches on tv, what news he hears.  I want him to keep his emotional safety.  I want him not to be afraid to live his life. I want him to continue to dance….to feel the music….to enjoy the journey.

On Friday night I had this surreal experience.  I watched my son’s first dance recital dress rehearsal.  I was moved by what I saw.  No pun intended.  Up on stage was my son.  He was dancing and lost in the moment.  He and his peers were up there performing.  For a minute or two I was worried how he would respond.  It was his first time on a big stage.  He has never done anything like this on this scale.  He went out and moved and danced better than I had ever seen him.  He was hitting the right steps.  He was smiling.  He nailed his free style “cartwheel” moment.  At the end I realized I had, at some point, started holding my breath silently and sometimes (not so silently) cheering him on.

Today, I realize I am holding my breath.  This time because of the anxiety of not wanting to let him out of my sight and knowing that I have to.

I, like you, am thinking what can I do? Here is what I am going to do….

I am going to make sure that my anxieties are not transferred to my son.  I am going to do what I can to insure his safety at all times and I am going to answer any questions he might have about yesterday’s events. I will answer them in a manner that is fitting for a nine-year-old.  I will give him information he needs to feel safe.  I will not scare him.  I will not give him graphic details.  I will not let him watch the news. 

I am going to let my representatives know that I am worried and that I want a resolution to this issue.  This is a public health issue really.

I am not interested in debating this.  I am not interested in finger pointing or political manipulations.

I am going to work with my son’s school to make sure they have a plan for safety.  I want to know what that plan is.  I want my son to know what that plan is.  I want his classmates…those children who he is growing up with…that he cares about…that I care about ..I want them to know what that plan is.  We cannot be passive, but we cannot make our children afraid.

I am going to dance with my son.  Every chance I get.  I am going to feel the music.  I am going to dance like no one is watching.  And when my son giggles because I am “dancing wrong”, I am going to dance some more.

I will go home tonight, and even though he is sleeping, I am going to go watch him breathe in the dark of his room.  I am going to brush his hair off his face and I am going to silently promise to do the best I can to keep him safe. 

I will close my eyes and remember that I had this same exact moment with him on the night he was born.  I held him close.  I brushed my fingers through his hair.  I closed my eyes and whispered in his ear that I would do everything I could to keep him safe.