I yelled at my son

I just yelled at my son.

I yelled at him in a way meant to scare him, meant to shake him to the core.

I yelled at him in a way that I only recall being yelled at once– it was that unforgettable.

I yelled at him out of frustration and anger and pure desperation.

I yelled in a way that if I witnessed it as an outsider, I would be unable not to judge– what kind of mother yells at her offspring like that?

I yelled in a way that I never want to again.

Because, now, he is drifting to sleep and the thought of my voice echoing in his head is tearing me apart.

And I wonder what kind of mother I am, to yell like that at the child I love with all of my being.

Tonight, it wasn’t the one I want to be.