Over on one of my favorite community sites, hipmama, 2 mamas posted about wanting to commit suicide. To say we were all shocked and appalled is an understatement. Part of what I told her:

I have talked about it many times before on this site but you may not know that I almost killed my oldest son when he was a baby. I had severe post-partum depression. My family did not understand how distraught I was until I reached the breaking point. I almost smothered him! My Scott. The dog I had at the time kept barking at me and pulling at my leg while I was standing over him with the pillow. I remember everything looked red, I was seeing through this haze of red. and that dog kept barking, barking, it snapped me somewhat out of my craziness and I ran out of the room and shut the door and called children’s services. They told me to hold on, and sent someone right away. The social worker was there in 15, 20 minutes, it wasn’t long, but it felt like an eternity. I was so frightened, and felt so sad and sorry for my little boy.

Please click on my link that says ‘Bambinos’…please look at Scott. He is such a wonderful child, just like your children. Think what my life would have been like these past 11 years had my depression engulfed me and I killed him. Think what my daughter’s life would have been like. I certainly would not have been allowed to keep her. and Todd, my baby, would not even have ever been born. Now imagine what your children’s lives will be like if you kill yourself. It is your sickness that is making you think that their lives will be better, just as my sickness had me thinking Scott was a devil baby and that my daughter’s life would be better if he and I were dead (because I was considering killing myself after I smothered him). This is not reality, it’s sickness. There is help out there, please take it.

I wrote this 3 years ago on my blog and wanted to re-share it with ya’ll. The posts on suicide on hipmama have me all messed up. I hope everyone out there reading this is ok.

For Jeremy, On My Birthday: 1/13/03

On the eve of my 31st birthday, I kept thinking of suicide. There was this kid when I was a senior in high school who killed himself. His name was Jeremy, and he shot himself. I didn’t know him well at all, I had just a few classes with him and we had different friends and all that. He was sarcastic a lot but used to joke around in class. After he killed himself the school did this memorial thing, and when it was over most of the senior class took off, piling into various cars and cutting the rest of the day on the pretext of being too grief-stricken to stay at school. A bunch of us went to Eden Park, this huge park in Cincinnati that has this old-school wading pool in it.

I remember the day as being very warm and beautiful. It must have been early spring because I was still pregnant with Iyende, and she was born in May. Frankly, most of the class showed a callous attitude about Jeremy killing himself, but I know I wasn’t the only one who felt bewildered and scared by it. I remember sitting there by the wading pool with my friends, watching couples hooking up and cliques assembling, and wondering what on earth was so wrong with his life that he would do such a thing. We were almost done! Adulthood was beckoning and the long sentence of high-school was almost over. I couldn’t imagine what would cause someone to kill themselves now, so close to the finish line. It seemed that my classmates, in their joking and frivolity, were just covering up and pretending to not care, because if they showed anything, then all their sadness and misery would come bursting through.

Early spring, 1989. I turned seventeen that January 13th, a senior in high school and soon to be mother. I didn’t know what life was going to be like for me, but I knew that the promise of life I was carrying inside of me was going to be someone special. I was so innocent and naive in my thinking then, I genuinely believed that overall, the world was a good place. Now, almost 31, I am saddened by this loss of innocence, and wish I wasn’t now so cynical.

But do I regret my life? No. I am glad to be alive. I am not glad for the bad times, but I am truly grateful to have survived them. I know that the world would be a different place if I were not in it, and I know that I have so much more to contribute before I die. I feel that I have managed to build a meaningful life in the almost 14 years since I graduated from high school. I wish that Jeremy could have held on just another day. I wish that whatever was wrong didn’t have to wipe him out. I wish that he knew he was a beautiful and loved person who had a place in this world. As does everyone.

My Desire For Personal Change In 2003:
To reach out to others when I am sad.
To embrace others who reach out to me when they are sad.
To be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, cousin, aunt, niece, and friend.
To make new friends and look up old ones I haven’t talked with in a while.
To enjoy the quiet moments and appreciate all the loud bustling ones.
To rest, and enjoy resting.
To take care of my mental, emotional, and physical health.

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