Entry 2: Telling My Story

A friend asked me to write something to tell my story and possibly use it for his non-profit organization. Some of this has been said before, some of it has not. Either way, it felt good to write it.

"I can still hear the beeping on your bedside monitor steadying but slowing. I can still smell the scents of the hospital. I can still feel how cold it was in the ICU. I can still imagine your body, swollen from the liquids they were pumping into your system, lying in the hospital bed like I had dozens of times before. It has been over 6 years since you took your last breath but the images are still far too fresh to me. 

My whole life, my mother was sick. At a young age she was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, an extremely painful disease that causes inflammation to the digestive tract. She also had Graves’ disease, osteoporosis, heart problems, along with depression, and anxiety. I grew up visiting her in the hospital after yet another surgery, drove her to her doctor’s appointments, and even had to call 911 for her. I watched her pass out, I watched her have seizures, I watched her suffer, I watched her cry, and I watched her sleep for days on end because the pain was too unbearable. And on December 21st, 2011, I watched my 46 year old mother, Wendy Aileen Murdock-Fields, take her last breath through a breathing tube.

On Friday, December 16th, 2011, I left my home while my mother was still asleep to go to work as a nanny. Around 9:30am, I got a phone call from my mother, her crying on the other end. I asked if she was okay and asked if she needed me to take her to the hospital again. See, she had gone to the hospital the day prior due to some severe chest pains, but was sent home that evening. The next words out of her mouth were “I just wanted to tell you that I love you and it’s not your fault”. My mind started racing and honestly I can’t remember much else of the conversation other than her telling me that she had taken a lot of her medications and it was understood that she was trying to end her life. She informed me that she had already called my step-dad, who was at work, and that he had called 911. At some point, she decided to hang up to call her best friend, and that she would call me back. Her friend didn’t answer so my mother called me again and this time I could hear her fading. I was screaming at the top of my lungs over the phone to try to keep her awake and conscious. There was a firehouse not even a mile from our home so I knew the ambulance would be quick. Eventually, I think my mom dropped the phone and I could hear the dogs barking. I knew then that the paramedics had arrived and were working on my mom. The next 5 days were a complete blur but to this day are still vivid in my mind. They tried pumping her full of fluids, hoping she would pass all of the medication while in a coma, but her body retained all of the fluid and she swelled up like a balloon. We all say the only thing that still looked like her at the end was her perfect little nose. Two and a half days into this and she started twitching, her eyes fluttering open and closed. Although she had a breathing tube in her mouth, I could see she was trying to speak. I never would have admitted it at the time, but I was beginning to have hope. Another 2 days passed and when I was closing up at my bar job, I got a phone call from her nurse advising me to come to the hospital. She wouldn’t give me any information over the phone but I knew what that meant. I got to the hospital and the doctors explained to my step-dad and myself that her system was failing. I could feel how cold her hands and feet were; the blood rushing to her heart. I knew she was fading. We ultimately made the decision to take my mother off of life support. It was the most miserable hour of my life. The first 55 minutes of that hour went by so slow. Her heart rate still seemed to be steady. Then in the last 5 minutes, we could hear the beeping slow its pace. Before we knew it, she was gone. 

Over the last 6 years, my life has taken so many winding roads with many different twists and turns. As someone who has struggled with anxiety and depression myself since I was 14 year old, I even considered taking my own life. I questioned God over and over. I stared at my medications realizing I could have the same exact fate as my mother. I now thank God everyday for straying me from those thoughts.

If you are reading this and share the same struggles with thoughts of suicide, I tell you my story in hopes of changing your mind. I would never wish my experience upon even my worst enemy. It was hell. I cried for months. My mother wasn’t with me on my wedding day. My mother never got to hold her granddaughter, Wendy Jo. Those thoughts are what hurt the most. If thoughts of ending your life crowd your mind, hold on to hope for a better future. Seek help. Vent to someone. Go running. Cry out to God. Do something that makes you happy. One of my favorite sayings is “today will be better than yesterday”. Life is hard but there is so much beauty in it. I look at my daughter and praise The Lord for giving me hope during my days of sorrow. Without that hope, I would not be alive today, and neither would my precious Wendy. So to you I say “today will be better than yesterday”.

If you are reading this and have also lost someone to suicide, I tell you my story so that you can see that there is beauty beyond the grief. Don’t get me wrong, I would do anything to have my mom with me today. But if she hadn’t passed away, I would not be the woman I am today. I believe God allowed her death so that I could grow closer to Him and live the life He planned for me. If she hadn’t passed away, I never would have moved away to a new city. I never would have met my husband. I never would have had my daughter. So to you I say “there is beauty beyond the grief”.

Survivor of Suicide- Melodye Anderson