I got help for depression. Then more help, and more help on top of that as I was in such a mess from medicines, seizures, ‘therapy’, and hospital/medical bills.
I attempted suicide more than once. More than once I was in the ICU - the first time I was in a coma and the second, I had stabbed myself. When I was in a coma - like right before - I knew my friend was trying to contact my attorney as it was Thanksgiving and my son’s placement would have to get figured out. The rabbi had come and I said the sh’ma and everything. My son had come to the ICU with my mom and he was holding hist stuffed dog. He had no idea I was about to die; he just knew mom was sick. I was drifting and thought, “What if Little CP forgets Goobert [his stuffed dog]? I need to wake up. This is not gonna happen right now.”
And later, I did, much to the shock of everyone.
I loved my son. I still do! But for some reason - and I can’t really being to explain why - at the time I simply could not see my actions as abandonment. Thinking about my responsibilities made me feel worse because I couldn’t meet them. I literally though he’d be fine. THANKFULLY he doesn’t know about any of this. I hope he never does, though I’m sure eventually I’ll have to tell him about the time his mom went crazy when he was little. The sad thing is that I did this a few times - the second time, even though I was so wrecked with guilt over it I still saw it as ‘an option’. I didn’t know how to get out of bed. Thinking about things I ‘had’ to do was enough to make me beg for an asteroid to hit Earth.
Every Tuesday, I eat lunch with my son at school. On Fridays, we have a ‘date’. Sundays I make him eggs. Every night before bed we read a chapter of Stink Moody and I help him with his Hebrew homework.
When you are a parent and you commit suicide, you just broke a million little promises. All of the things you’re supposed to be there for - birthdays, holidays, yelling at your kids when they do something dumb, getting a driver’s license, etc. - you just missed. That’s a million sandwiches you’d never make and a million moments you’d miss out on. That’s a thousand times you wouldn’t have been able to think your kid was acting like a brat. It’s the fights and kisses you don’t get to have.
When you have a child, you make a promise. You promise to care for them and tough it out - even if you do it badly. You have to try.
I don’t know how I’d live if I didn’t see my son every day or how I’ll feel when he decides he’s too old to have lunch with mom anymore. I don’t know what I’d do if, God-forbid, something happens to him. It took awhile, but I’ve now learned my value as a parent. Even ‘bad’ ones have worth.
I remember as a kid, my dad would always miss our school plays. He was too busy. He never came to a volleyball game, either. It made me feel so unloved and unimportant. Can you imagine a kid thinking every single time that his (dead) parent should be there, “Oh, why wasn’t I important enough? How come mom/dad isn’t here to see me tonight?”
It’s strange. Parents will give their own lives for their kids - literally jump in front of bullets to save their children. Even the most depressed, angry, terrible, horrible parent will do this. But asking a suicidal parent to live for their child? That’s the most loving, terrible, hard, most awful and best thing you can do. Don’t deny them that right to yell at you for how terrible you are when they become teenagers. 
So…if anyone finds this on Google and is considering such a deed, I just want you to know that you have worth. I know that making schedules and getting up out of bed when I didn’t want to to take Little CP to the museum or whatever is what got me through everything. Before, he was just overwhelming. And he’s a well-behaved kid! He was always cared for and fed and bathed and everything, but I was so overwhelmed by life that even a simple request like, “Mom, what’s for dinner?” made me want to crawl into bed. I simply did not want to function.
I would hurt anyone who tried to hurt my son – what gives me the right to inflict imaginable pain on him?
It does get better. Keep going. **You’re not selfish. You’re hurting and trying to find a cure. **More often than not, your kids will be your best medicine. Whatever tools you need to get through life, you can learn by being part of a family. I firmly believe that.