The day my world fell apart (Jenna)

Jenna's story:

I got the call from Dad early on the morning of February 13^th, 2002. The world went still as he quickly relayed what had happened. I was stunned, bewildered, shocked, confused. Over the past month as I had talked with Mom on the phone, she had certainly not seemed herself. I knew she was depressed, and had tried to encourage her, but I had no idea it was this bad. This is the last thing in the world that I ever thought would happen.

As a side note, I later learned in a psychiatric nursing course that it is SO important to ask anyone you know who is depressed if they are suicidal or have a plan. It is shocking how many people are suicidal. Of course this all has to be done with compassion and grace, but please have that conversation… it is one of the most courageous and loving things you can do for someone struggling with depression. Back to the story…

The next few hours were a blur. I went to class and told my teacher what had happened, and that I needed to leave for Saskatoon immediately. She spoke with grace and compassion as she said not to worry about anything to do with school. Thankfully Reading Week was starting in just two days. I’m not even sure how I got there, but I found myself on a Greyhound bus bound for Saskatoon for the next 8 hours.

I didn’t have a cellphone or any way or contacting my family during the bus ride. All I could do was pray, read my Bible, and trust that Mom was in God’s hands. I tried not to think of it too much, because it was completely out of my hands. I think that was the longest bus trip of my life.

At the Royal University Hospital in Saskatoon, Dad took me to see Mom as she lay in a bed in a shared hospital room. People had been with her all day, but now it was evening and they were going home to bed. Michael and Breanna were at Grandma’s house.

Mom lay there, with no life in her eyes, not even sadness really… just dark circles around her eyes and hopelessness. It was hard to even talk with her. She barely responded, which is so uncharacteristic of her.

We got permission from the nursing staff for me to stay overnight with her in a cot beside her bed. I talked with Mom, prayed with her, read her scripture, and cried silent tears as I thought that these might be my last moments with her. The doctors had said she would slowly continue to slip into a coma over a period of hours. I didn’t know if she would even wake up in the morning.

I was so afraid for her spiritual state. I felt like there were so many unknowns with suicide. Could God forgive her for it? Was she truly sorry? Did the state of her heart at this very moment negate the life of faith she had lived? Was she even herself at all right now? I kept asking her if she was sorry, and reminding her of God’s grace and love that covers all our wrong-doings. If I was going to lose her, I wanted to be able to believe that I would see her in heaven someday. Before she was in a coma I wanted to talk and pray with her as much as possible, while also being careful to show her love and grace and not judgment. I wanted every moment to count.

She did say she was sorry, and prayed with me for God’s forgiveness, but all of it with that lifelessness behind her eyes, that deep hollow emptiness that just would not go away.

I don’t know if either Mom or I slept at all that night. It was fitful at best, with the beeping of machines, shuffling of nurse’s feet, lights streaming in the windows, and my own mind whirring with relentless thoughts. I kept touching her, kissing her and telling God how much I loved her, and could He please spare her??? I needed her, Dad needed her, Michael and Breanna needed her, the world still needed her.