Someone better do something with these kids!!!

I feel like this post needs some sort of disclaimer. It’s not an easy post to write. It’s not an easy post to read. I know that some will judge me, but I’m only human with a mental illness that I am getting treatment for.

Today I want to talk about mothers that have abused or killed their children.

There is actually a name for parents that kill their children; it’s called filicide. Who knew? This is considered one of the most upsetting crimes. People get even more upset when it’s the mother that kills her child. We as mothers are supposed to have special bonds with our children. We are supposed to love them like nobody else can love them. Filicides are considered monsters. I researched filicide. There are tons of different categories: altruistic (out of love), acutely psychotic (no comprehensible motive), unwanted child, child maltreatment (“battered child syndrome”), and spouse revenge (done to make their spouse suffer).  No matter what category you put it in, it boils down to a mental issue.

Society is so quick to judge these people. They say, “She’s crazy!” or they may say, “She was an awful mother!” I was once one of these judges. Now I consider myself one of the crazy, awful mothers. Let me explain.

I can remember a time when Bethany was just a few weeks old. I am a person that NEEDS lots of sleep; you know with a newborn you don’t get that. I was exhausted! She was crying; I was crying. I just felt like I couldn’t make her happy. I remember yelling at her. I started off yelling, “Shut up!” It quickly progressed to me yelling curse words at my newborn. If I recall correctly, I was even shaking her at one point.

Another time when Bethany was about 4 months old, I was laying down with her trying to take a nap. Well, Bethany did not want to take a nap. I fought her and fought her for over an hour. I was balling my eyes out. I finally called Ronny and told him to come get this child before something bad happened. Luckily, he was able to do come right then.

I’m sure that there were times with the other 2 kids, but I just can’t pull any up right now.

Over the years, I have directed all kinds of ugly words toward my children. I have gotten so annoyed and fed up with them that I started “spanking” them. It wasn’t a spanking though; it was a beating. I have thought about really hurting them, sometimes even to the point of killing them.

I love my kids with everything inside of me, but there have been times that my depression has gotten the worst of me and made me feel this way or think these awful things. I’m not crazy. I’m not a bad mother. I have a mental illness. I am getting treatment for it, and I fight everyday to keep it under control.

I write all this to let all those mothers that are on the brink of that breakdown know that you are not alone. I have been in your shoes. I have felt the things that you are feeling. I have had the thoughts that you are having. I have done some really bad things to my children. YOU ARE NOT ALONE! You are not crazy! You are not a bad mother! You just need help. The one thing that I have learned (and am still working on) is “You cannot take care of others, if you cannot take care of yourself!”

If you are having thoughts of harming yourself or your children, please call 911 immediately! Reach out and get the help that you need.

Is depression genetic?

Did you know that not one of my children has the same blood type as me?

I don’t think that any of my children really look like me either. Oh! Each has inherited personality traits from me though: Bethany is a perfectionist; Emily is sassy and will tell it like it is; Brantley loves people and always wants to help. Each of the children have facial expressions that they get from me too. My hopes are that they didn’t inherit my depression.

We as mother’s do not like to see our children hurting or sick. Bethany got the flu this season, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her look as pale, frail, and helpless as she did then. I really hurt. I was really scared, and that’s saying a lot because I’m a nurse. My heart broke for my baby.

My biggest fear is that one of my children will inherit this awful disease that I have. I know how badly I hurt sometimes, and I do not want my children to have to go through that. I do not want to see my children like that. I do not want to know that my genes were responsible for them being in such a dark, miserable state.

I did some research today and was relieved at what I found as far as depression being genetic.

A person inherits a vulnerability to depression, not the actual disease. People that have a parent or sibling with depression are 1.5 to 3 times more likely to develop depression than those that do not have a relative with it. Studies have found multiple genes that may lead to the development of depression. Research still fails to find one specific gene that increases the vulnerability of depression in everyone. It is thought that there are multiple genes working together to make someone vulnerable to depression.  Genetic causes of depression

This reassures me that there is still hope for my children. Hope that my children do not have to live a life with depression. Hope that much more of the vulnerability comes from environment, and hope that Ronny and I are raising our children in an environment that increases vulnerability for vitality than for depression.