Motherhood is one of the hardest jobs to do; having a life depend on your every waking move is scarier than can be expressed. My insecurities in the beginning years of my journey were sometimes the most debilitating experience ever. How I got through is a miracle in it of itself. I was a dysfunctional functioning mother to say the least. The following entry is a flashback of the early years of motherhood. Can you relate to me?

Every mother wants to shield their children from the boogie man, big foot and the monster under the bed. Every child that comes from her body holds a part of her heart and their wellbeing is on the top of her list whether the enemy is visible or invisible. I will be honest, there were times where I forgot that my role was mother and not God Almighty. I fell into the lie that I was the one to protect Joey from every disease, predator, or falling object but there came a day when I realized that if I took on the role of God, I was going to fail. My dysfunction could never shield him from what was coming.

Being a mother for the last five months, had me missing some things that I used to do, like going to work and going out with my co-workers during lunch. I remembered my last week at work before taking maternity leave when I would make regular trips early in the morning before work to get a freshly made egg bagel lightly toasted with melted butter and a cold banana and strawberry smoothie. As I got in the bed with Sam and settled Joey next to us…I know I’m not supposed to sleep with my new baby, but I was desperate and that is not the focus right now.

“I want to bring Joey to the office again. I miss everyone.”

“But you just went.” He said.

“I know but he was a newborn. Look at him. He is five months now and I never got to see my boss Michael and I miss Allison.”

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. “When do you want to go?”

“I don’t know if I will go tomorrow. I want to surprise them, but I want to make sure they are there when I do go. I’ll call them in the morning.”

Early the next morning the phone rang about 7:30 and it was my older brother. He was on California time, but I didn’t care. As we were ending the call my younger brother, who lived with us, was calling my name.

“Stacy!” I’m was getting off the phone in a few minutes he can wait, I thought. “Stacy!!” I tried to rush my older brother off the phone as I heard the desperation, but my younger brother could not wait; he came into my room grabbed my remote, turned on the news where my heart stopped. “A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center.”

“Why is Manhattan on fire?” I said with pure shock.

My younger brother went into the living room to listen to the newscasters who were just as eager as we were to find out why a plane had hit into one of the largest buildings in the city. Before the newscaster could finish their sentence, millions of people watched with their own eyes as a second plane hit into the second building. I thought I was going to faint. Everything was spinning. I went numb. I ran to the phone to call my co-workers…why? I don’t know. When you feel helpless you do anything to feel like you have some control.

Did I forget to tell you that my previous job was directly across the street from the World Trade Center? I worked on the 16th floor at the Chubb institute as an administrative assistant and that delicious bagel and smoothie breakfast I talked about was bought in the underground mall located beneath one of the towers.

Everyone knows what happened that day where thousands lost their lives. Joey started crying and all I wanted to do was hold him forever. If I could put him back inside me so he could stay safe for the rest of his life I would have. This was not the kind of world I wanted him to live in! Since when does America get attacked? This is a day we read about in history not witness and make history. This is bigger than molesters, murders and thieves. There is a group of people that hate all of America so much that they are willing to risk their lives to destroy thousands of civilians. They don’t play by the rules and they don’t care how old you are.

That day life still needed to go on. I dressed him and got him ready to go to the doctor’s office where I had to walk about a half a mile with him. I took that walk shortly after hearing that there was a third plane that crashed in a remote area. When I opened my front door, I felt a wave of anxiety fill me as fear consumed me from the inside out. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I thought about the walk I needed to make. Was there going to be another plane crash. Were we going to lose our lives today? I wanted someone to walk with me and give me reassurance that we were danger-free. That did not happen.

I went to the appointment, and like everyone else, we all watched in horror as our nation tried to make sense of what just took place. After our appointment, Sam picked me up because he didn’t want me on the streets and took me to my new job at our church. When I walked through those doors the smell of the church could not have been more nostalgic. That slightly woody, mildly moldy smell made me feel so safe somehow. Oh my gosh, I can’t even explain that moment. Seeing my church family brought me to tears. “Everything was going to be okay now.” I thought. All the people I love and cared for are okay. We all greeted each other like we were all stranded on an island and this was our first reunion. There were some who I hugged and while we embraced we just cried.

No work really got done that day. My boss, who was also the pastor of counseling, talked with the staff to see how we were doing. For some reason our meeting was bringing more grief to my soul than comfort. What felt like safety before was soon turning into something else. I sat on the chair near the entrance of the classroom feeling completely paralyzed. Tears were running down my face even though I thought my thoughts were on something else. My boss finished the meeting and walked by. He looked at me and asked if I was okay. “No…I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t stop crying.” He told me to come with him to his office.

Louie handed me a tissue and took a minute to look me over as he could see the turmoil that was erupting in me. “Stacy can I ask you a question?” I nodded. “Have you ever been molested or raped.” That was an extremely weird question that came out of left field.

I looked at him for a minute and answered, “Yes I have. How did you know?”

He said something to me that I would not easily forget, “When you are raped or molested a person has come into your space and violated you. This terrorist attack was a violation and your brain does not know the difference between the two.” What he said made so much sense. It was mind blowing as he asked me about reoccurring dreams and behaviors that I thought were normal but were results of my past.

As he continued to ask me questions and found out a little more about me, he said, “I would have never thought that you experienced this kind of trauma. You break all the rules when it comes identifying those who have been through trauma like this. You function so well.

Louie would soon know how messed up I really was as we arranged counseling sessions for the next six months. He would see how dysfunctional I was in my thinking, my behavior and my self-talk. I didn’t understand why he was so surprised about all I spoke with him about as he wondered how I defied all odds and functioned on such a high level despite my emotional, spiritual and mental challenges, which we’ll talk about some other time. In his desire to write a book in the future, he graciously asked if I could be one of his topics.

Back to that day though.  Fear knocked on the door of my heart and I entertained it for a few hours, it wasn’t a visitor but a resident. Fear moved in to live with me and would be with me longer than expected. I became used to feeling it as a normal sense of security. I didn’t know what was to come, so I feared every turn and every corner of life. This is how I felt safe and in control, but it also would wear away at my marriage with my husband.

Man, I wish I could hold myself on September 11th 2001. I see young me in my mind and there was no amount of church attendance, knee callousing prayers or diligent Bible reading that could have changed the amount of fear she had. Oh Marsha, I understand you. I don’t agree with the power you gave to fear, but it makes sense, your world was invaded and you didn’t feel safe anymore but you will one day. God is crying with you not condemning you. Even though you allowed fear to move in, perfect love did not abandon you. God will never leave you; he will just love you till you see that fear has no place in your heart.