Lately, whenever I read a story about a tragedy involving a baby or child, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Yeah, yeah, motherhood has softened me, probably predictably. I can’t really help it - it’s like instead of having a baby inside me, after I had him I suddenly grew a heart and the ability to empathize.

In some ways I think I was expecting it - it seems natural and logical that these things develop after having a baby. But I wasn’t expecting a sympathy or empathy in the opposite direction. I read stories and news articles about parents who murder their children or cause great harm and abuse to their kids, either on purpose or not. I was actually going to type and link to the story, but I can’t. I just can’t.

Anyway, what surprises me most about how these stories affect me now is that I feel a tremendous empathy toward the mother of these children, who are killed or abused or harmed in any way. I remember how hard it was to bounce back emotionally after having Matthew - and I can only fathom, briefly, what it must be like to let myself get to the point where I would even consider abuse or violence as an option to handle my son. It scares the hell out of me. I feel the other way too - heartache for the baby, but I feel mostly scared - and an indescribable urge to creep into Matthew’s room and watch him breathe.