News broke late last week that a California mother had taken the lives of her three children. Conduct a man-on-the-street interview and you’d likely hear outrage, vile epithets directed at the monster who would kill her own offspring. My own husband brought it up to me in a pained tone of voice. He was disgusted. It IS disgusting when such a thing happens.
But I’m not angry at her.
Horrible events like this make me sad.
Sad that three lives on the cusp were snuffed out. Sad that poor defenseless, innocent babes were terminated. Sad that the father had to watch his bloodied babies be carried from his home; that his partner in life, in giving life, was the one responsible.
Sad that no one connected to this woman perceived any threat of dangerous behavior. Sad that perhaps she felt she couldn’t express such feelings before it was too late…
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