My friend Shannon just wrote this:

HEADLINES
33 Shot Dead in Campus Massacre

The headline stopped me for a minute when I scanned the online news yesterday afternoon. Then I returned back to my work. I didn’t think about it much the rest of the day ― I was busy writing, I had a couple of client calls, then I transitioned quickly into the usual evening routine with my daughter: dinner, bath, tooth brushing, and bedtime stories. It wasn’t until she was asleep that I thought to turn on the television. I watched the news for about 10 minutes or so, then switched to Jon Stewart. Like me, he opted to repress, focusing instead on jokes about the White House e-mail scandal and Alberto Gonzalez.

Why wasn’t I more upset by what has now been confirmed as the worst shooting spree in U.S. history? I remember when the Columbine murders happened – how disturbing that incident was to me, so disturbing that I felt physically ill. I watched the news for days afterward, unable to believe it had actually happened. But it did happen. And so much more has happened since then. September 11. Genocide in Africa. Daily reports from Iraq of eight dead by a road-side bomb, 20 dead in a market, 100 dead in a mosque.

All enough to numb your brain and your heart.

Motherhood has changed me ― sometimes in ways that I hadn’t expected. Instead of becoming even more sensitive to the tragedies of the world, I feel like I’ve become a little bit harder. I hold these events at an emotional distance ― not because I don’t care, but because it’s how I get by. Otherwise, I just couldn’t step up to making chicken fingers and reading Harry the Dirty Dog on a day when 33 mothers got the worst news possible. Somewhere, something bad is going to happen tomorrow, too. But I like to think that there will also be babies born and lives that are saved and long-awaited reunions. I have to believe that there is some kind of balance.

I say a prayer for those 33 families. Then I look at my daughter and say a prayer that she will always be safe and happy, and that all the other daughters and sons, brothers and sisters and moms and dads will be, too.

Logically, I know that this is a tall order. But it’s my small way of trying to balance out the headlines.

By Shannon Matus-Takaoka