I have known what it is to love and be married to man who is a police officer. I know what it is to be worried when he hasn’t called and should have been home 43 minutes ago. I know the relief when he finally walks in the door and rips off his vest. SWAT calls have shattered my sleep at 2 a.m. and I’ve slept in a half empty bed night after night during years of graveyard shifts. I’ve sat glued to the news watching protests that turned into riots, begging my phone to beep with a text saying all is code 4. I know what it is to feel like a single, but married woman and I’ve picked more bullets out of my washing machine than I know what to do with.
None of that…I am telling you none of it…prepared me for becoming the mother of a police officer.
At 3 years old, Colton was a blonde, blue-eyed, little boy who was very strong-willed and determined to do whatever it was he wanted to do, no matter what his Mom said. I was exhausted and frustrated with my patience worn beyond thin…and so…I prayed… “God, give me the strength to raise this sweet, stubborn boy.”
During his high school years, I’ll never forget the day he called me panic stricken, struggling to speak and in severe pain. At the emergency room a spinal tap was ordered to check for meningitis…and so…I prayed… “Dear God, please just let my boy be ok.”
When the time to pick a college finally came about, he was strongly considering joining the military instead. I knew I would be one proud military mom, but to be honest this option for his life just terrified me. He told me if a college did recruit him to be on their baseball team, then he would go to school instead…and so…I prayed… “Dear Lord, I’m begging you, please let him make the team.”
As their mother, it has always been my job to protect my children…to catch them before they fall down…to make sure they wore their bike helmets…to monitor what movies they watched and what video games they played. It was my job to keep them fed, clothed, and to make sure their homework was done on time. It was my job to help them work through their sibling squabbles and I even found myself helping with those horrendous science fair projects (Can a potato be a battery? News flash…no one cares!)
These days I can’t help but feel a little lost. It’s no longer my duty to protect my son and I couldn’t even if I tried. It’s now his job to protect others. He’s been called to stand up for those that can’t stand up for themselves. He will be exposed to human misery, conflict, and horrors that I can’t bring myself to even consider.
And so…I continue to pray…”Dear Lord, please protect my son. Walk in front of him. Walk behind him. Bring him home safe.”
Some nights…I even manage to sleep.
l Sandee l