Crying game

Motherhood changes you. It shifts something in your core, tinges how you look at things. I never realized the deep fundamental difference it would make down to my soul.

I sat here, at my desk tonight, sobbing unexpectedly. A short scene on TV reduced me to tears in a brief 30 seconds. Even now, just the memory brings tears to my eyes.

I am not the person I once was. I could watch movies and TV shows without a second thought. Oh sure, things sometimes scared me or disturbed me. But I could distract myself (oooh, something shiny!) and move on.

Not any more.

I was watching Leverage on TNT. It’s new to us, but I’m really beginning to like it. There was a scene in which one of the main characters talked about his son, who died when a treatment was denied. Just them talking about it wasn’t too bad.

But when they flashed to the scene where he remembered his son dying, showed him running into the room to hold his son in his arms after the heart monitors flatlined? I broke down. I sobbed that ugly way when you’re so upset you can hardly breathe, your head pounding from the intensity of it.

Because I think of parents who have lost their children too soon, and then I get a little scared, worrying about my boobah. Wondering how anyone gets through something like that. And not wanting to ever, ever find out.

I’ve always been a little emotional. I cry at movies, poignant scenes, even those darn tissue commercials that were on for a while.

But this? Is something deeper. Something that strikes my core. I can’t bear to watch a child in danger, hurt, or killed. I can’t even read about it. I read Deep End of the Ocean several years ago. I doubt I could handle it now.

Does it ever get easier? This paralyzing fear? This crippling emotion that grips your head and your heart? Is there a way to get through motherhood intact? I don’t know.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
8 Responses
  1. Skye (10 comments.) says:

    Having a child of my own has definitely changed the kind of entertainment I can tolerate. It’s not just the reflex tears anymore, it’s sheer terror.

    I can’t stand to read blog posts about people losing their children, either, it’s too close now. Before it was just a sad thing, abstract. Now it’s what I freak out about at 2am when I can’t sleep.

    Skye’s last blog post..Oh Thanks, Dr. Seuss

  2. marty (9 comments.) says:

    Thank you. My husband thinks I have lost my mind because I barely watch anything on TV, and have become so hyper-sensitive about media in general. I just can’t bear it.

    No mothers or children dying. Period. I cannot bear to watch it.

    marty’s last blog post..These women who I love

  3. becky says:

    @skye – it does seem to come back to mind when you’re most vulnerable, doesn’t it? i hate that. and when i come across someone’s post like that, i feel so terrible for them. and i start sobbing again.

    @marty – me either. i never expected that.

  4. Elle (2 comments.) says:

    My heart is just as vulnerable, and I don’t think there’s any way to get through unscathed. But then, I don’t think I want to. Isn’t it beautiful to be this tender?

    Elle’s last blog post..wishcasting

  5. Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah (6 comments.) says:

    I am with you.

    I guarantee I couldn’t read “Angela’s Ashes” again without some sort of breakdown.

    Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah’s last blog post..Yes, I said Elephants and Butts

  6. Lizzie (2 comments.) says:

    i have always been dramatic and emotional, i don’t think it will ever change. And yes, i hope we never have to learn what it’s like to lose a child :(

    thanks for coming by the other day!

    Lizzie’s last blog post..Hotel WiFi is crapola!

  7. becky says:

    @elle – yes it is, but it is awfully painful sometimes.

    @sarah – thankfully, it was looooong ago when i read ‘angela’s ashes’. i’m sure there are other books to add to that list, too.

    @lizzie – thanks for returning the favor. :)

  8. MamaCass (1 comments.) says:

    I can’t even hear a sad song on the radio…