The Visceral Empathy of Motherhood; Krim Children Murders

I was checking the news tonight when I saw two little faces staring back at me from the screen. Two beautiful children, a 6yr old girl and 2yr old boy. I have never met them, but I recognized their faces immediately; Lucia “Lulu” and Leo Krim. Their nanny brutally killed them in 2012, she will finally face a trial for what she has done.( read about it here)

There are so many innocent children who are hurt and killed. The news is filled with their horror stories. Each and every one of them hurts me, and to be honest, I often avoid reading about them because it hurts so much. But some of these stories really stick with me, I can think of a few that have seared into my heart and mind forever; Lulu and her brother Leo are two of them.

Maybe it is because they remind me of my children. Maybe it is because they were killed in such a terrible way. Maybe it is because of how tremendously senseless their murders were. But, all murders of children are senseless and horrifying. I can’t say exactly what it is, but I cried immediately upon seeing those babies faces again.

In my nightmares, I imagine what their poor mother endured finding their bodies. It chills me and turns my stomach. I shake my head as if to shake away the thoughts themselves. I can’t fathom the strength it has taken for their parents to survive this ordeal; I imagine their surviving daughter was the anchor that kept them afloat.

I think all sane adults are horrified by the murder of children. There is an innate sense of outrage when the innocent among us are harmed. Yet, ever since I became a mother, that outrage and pain is felt on entirely new level. It is as if my entire nervous system has been fundamentally altered after giving birth. My heart has been transformed into a mothers heart; and nothing is felt the same way again.

It is all so vivid in its terrifying detail. You cannot help but feel an intense need to rush to your own children and hold them close. You cannot help but feel the lurch in your stomach and the anxiety tear through you at the thought of what happened to these children. It is as if it is YOUR children, yet that thought is so terrifying you desperately try to push it from your mind before it is even fully thought.

But, in my bones and in my blood, I am a mother. It goes without saying, that I would die for my own children without hesitation or forethought; but what is even crazier is that I would do the same for a child I do not even know. I would jump in front of a truck for ANY child, and I do not know if I would have done so with such willingness before becoming a mother. I see each child as someone I am maternally protective of. I see each mother as a woman who I understand, because we are mothers, we share the same heart.

The hearts of mothers all share in the incredible joy, the frightening worry, the hopes, the dreams, the tiring work. We share something deep, a commonality that is ancient and immutable. Mothers.

I feel that way towards Mrs.Krim. I do not know her, and I may never meet her; but if I did, I would hug her and cry. I would not even speak more words than my tears with her tears, because that is all I need to say. I feel her heart in mine, and mine in hers. I see my children in hers, and her in mine.


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