Healing After Virginia Tech

Healing After Virginia Tech

In the wake of the shootings, Meredith Vieira wasn't just a reporter when she visited the campus.

Seven months after coming to the  Today show I had one of my toughest assignments ever—the terrible shootings at Virginia Tech. Cohost Matt Lauer and I, along with the rest of the Today team, were on campus within 24 hours. Twenty-four hours is not enough time to comprehend such an overwhelming event: 32 people dead, most of them kids, slain by a fellow student.

As a reporter I had some hard questions to ponder: Where was the shooter and when? Who were the victims? Did any of them know him? Viewers wanted to know the facts so they could make sense of this tragedy. But I also couldn't escape being a mom and thinking of my own kids, especially my oldest son, who would soon head off to college himself.

Ever since I started this job I've worn a charm bracelet with my husband's and kids' names engraved on it. I can see it dangle from my wrist no matter what I'm doing, and that day in Blacksburg, Virginia, as I was about to go on the air, just a glance at it made me wish I could wrap my arms around them and hold them tight.

My husband, Richard, and I have three teens, Ben, Gabe and Lily. As careful as I am about not talking about their personal lives on air (teenagers do not appreciate having their privacy invaded on national television, to say the least), I think about them all the time. Most reporters are also parents and it is hard sometimes for us not to see the news at least partly from that perspective—especially something as shocking as the Virginia Tech slayings.

Of course, it's a balancing act, one faced by working moms everywhere. I mean, what mom hasn't missed an important announcement buried in the slew of papers that's come home in the backpack? For me it was Colonial Day at Gabe's second-grade class when he showed up sans costume. I took it a lot harder than he did and vowed never to let my kids down, no matter how busy I get.

Maybe I take it a little far sometimes. Recently I was heading to one of Ben's soccer games, after which I had a commitment to host the MS Dinner of Champions—a benefit for multiple sclerosis, which means a lot to me because Richard has the disease. Still, nothing was going to stop me from seeing Ben's game, even if it meant being a little overdressed. I pulled off the highway and jumped out of the car in my three-inch heels, only to discover that there was a three-foot-high fence standing between me and Ben's team out on the field.

No problem , I thought. I hiked up my skirt, balanced on a rock, threw one leg over the fence, then the other, telling myself, Please don't let my stocking tear. I barely made it over. I headed toward the game, wobbling, my heels sinking in the dirt. Finally I reached Ben's coach on the sidelines. I beamed a smile at 17-year-old Ben out on the field and turned to the coach, feeling heroic. "Excuse me," he said, "but you're not allowed to stand on this side of the field. You've got to go around to where the other parents are."

It's not that I'm trying to be an alpha mom. I just want my kids to know that I'm there for them. I want to meet their friends, know their teachers and watch them play. There's a lot of support a parent can give a child just by standing on the sidelines—even in three-inch heels.

Then there are the times when your kids show up for you. Last year, after being on The View for nearly a decade, I was offered the cohosting job on the Today show. I had to be sure that my family was behind me. This would be a big change for all of us.

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