Free Emotional Mother's Monologue

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  1. You must email Aiysha Jebali (aiysha17 @ - remove spaces) and ask permission to use this monologue, state for which purpose and await a response.

  2. There is no charge for using this monologue, provided there is no monetary profit to be made on it, from advertising or otherwise. If you would like to use it for profit, discuss that in your initial query and we will discuss royalties.

  3. The writer, Aiysha Jebali, must be credited in all cases.

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  5. You may not, under any circumstance reprint the text of this monologue anywhere.

All rights reserved by Aiysha Jebali.


This monologue was inspired by the events of the Sandy Hook Massacre 2012, in which Adam Lanza shot and killed 20 children and 6 members of staff in the Sandy Hook Elementary school of Newtown, Connecticut. Most of the children killed were first graders. All children murdered were aged between 5-8.

Earlier that day, he also fatally shot his mother four times in her bed.

This monologue does not depict a true recounting by any mother of the victims of The Sandy Creek Massacre. It is simply a dramatized piece, inspired by the horrific shooting that took place.

A Shell


Growing up, I loved my dollies.

Mom and dad always knew they were a safe bet for a Christmas present. I loved to dress them, feed them and even change their empty diapers.

I wanted to know what it was like to create life, to nurture that life and watch them grow into a decent human being. A loving human being. One that I could encourage to follow their heart, take the world by storm and be who they were always born to be.

...The funny things is, I thought I understood what loss was. I thought I had it down.

When we got the positive result for number four, I just kept waiting for the bleed. Once I made it into the third trimester I thought, don't get ahead of yourself. This one could be like number three... I just kept praying that this time it would be different. Healthy. That was all I wanted. Healthy.

And, she was. (teary)

I finally had my miracle. Perfect. Breath-taking. I'll never forget that first wail she let out. The relief! My little Anna. Happy, healthy and into everything! (smiling)

We could spend a good time on choosing an outfit, especially for school. Matching everything up and by five, she started accessorizing. (happy smiling)

I don't even know where that came from because I'm no fashionista and her dad looks like a walking bargain box, most of the time - God love him! (reminiscent laugh turns to slight sadness in the eyes)

December 14th 2012, (well-up) she wore a yellow dress with detail all around it. Her bracelet and a little love-heart necklace. She looked beautiful. (starts sobbing) So beautiful.(heavy sobbing, take a moment here to really let it out)

(Getting angry) December 14th – the day my baby, MY ONLY BABY, was stolen from me! I thought I knew loss but this? This was like someone ripped my insides out! How could anyone be so cruel? So evil?!

I just keep asking myself: How could this happen? In what kind of world does a parent, sibling or a friend not realise that they are in the company of a monster? A mortal demon that is capable of killing such innocent, beautiful little angels into the double digits!

It is just passed three years now and I still feel sick. Empty. Time hasn't been a healer – that lie everyone told me at the funeral! It has been like a slow and long-suffering death that never seems to end.

(take a pause and let the feeling of sickness show over your face) When I see his face, I hurl. It's like an involuntary reaction to such a repugnant excuse for a human being.

(mildly hysterical) I went from being the mother of a miracle... to a lost remnant... the living dead among you. (sadness/tears)

(sadness and longing) James was patient, kind and loving but he was in pain, just like I was. He screamed at me on that last day. Told me he'd lost his only daughter too.

My marriage broke down soon after. He said he didn't know me any more - that I was so full of darkness. Hate.

I know he was hurting and I wasn't there to comfort him.

(elevated voice) He couldn't grieve because I was Grief incarnate! (quietly) That was all I was. Am.

How can I be anything else?

Just a shell filled with nothing but pain. (finish either with crying into hands or staring blankly into space like an empty vessel or whatever feels appropriate)

© 2015, written by Aiysha Jebali, all rights reserved.



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