On February 23rd 2007 I lost my beautiful daughter Sarah, she took her own life after a severe
bout of depression. Sarah was 37 years old and until the birth of her gorgeous boys had been full of life, travelling the
world and holding down a high powered job.
She married, had her 1st son a year later, after this she became depressed and was feeling totally
inadequate as a mum. We assured her constantly she was a great mum to her baby. After nearly 2yrs of treatment Sarah managed
to get herself off the antidepressants and life became normal again. She adored this bundle of fun as did we all.
She then told us babe number 2 was on the way, and I feared she would go down the same road again.
When he was born her GP put her straight on medication again, but soon the dreaded depression set in. As before we all rallied
round to give her all the love and support we could to get her through this awful time. Very slowly she improved, but always
felt she had let her babies (as she referred to the boys) down. Of course she hadn't, but she couldn't see it.
When they were aged 7 and 3 she went through a really bad patch, and we had her back home to
give her a break as she seemed to be really suffering again. The boys stayed with their Dad, and Sarah saw them if she felt
able to cope. She hated feeling like this.
Things came to a head when I went to take her a cuppa on morning, I saw a pill bottle by her
pillow. I called my husband (he was Sarah's stepdad though she idolized him, as not much contact with real Dad, we divorced
wheh she was 14) She was taken to hospital and we bought her home later that evening.
As that week passed she was getting worse, and as the Crisis team were involved and had been
for some time, they came out and decided that Sarah could be admitted as a voluntary patient to a Mental Health Unit nearby.
She really wanted to go in, thinking they would have a wonderful cure for her. But unfortunately it didnt turn out that way.
I would visit for 4hrs every day(visiting times) but as the weeks went by to us she seemed to be getting worse, begging me
to take her home, I was too frightened by this time as to what she might do to herself. The last time I visited Sarah she
again begged me to take her home, oh how I wish I had done. The following day after Paul and I both repeatedly telling staff
she was so bad, she asked to go for a walk and they let her.
The next day the police came to say they had found my Beautiful Girl, she couldn't deal with
her demons anymore and decided to end her life.
My world ended with her. I feel such terrible guilt, after all a mother loves, cherishes and
protects her children no matter what.
She left me a letter saying she was so sorry to hurt me, how she loved me so very much but couldn't
go on causing me so much pain. And to look after her babies.
How do I describe the searing pain? I can't. If you lose a child, especially one you were so
close to, how do you get from one day to the next? The guilt consumes you, all the what
ifs and why. I get through somehow because I am so lucky to have a wonderful husband, 2 beautiful sons
and of course my gorgeous grandsons, Sarah's legacy to this world.
Life does go on, the pain is constantly there, but other things like Sarah's little ones laughter,
their beautiful faces lighting up when I see them and the love and support we have as a family makes life easier to bear.
I speak of my Sarah with pride, she was a wonderful person, and I will always love her.
