I have debated with myself about whether I should blog about this....it is a very sensitive subject. But, I feel that being truthful and talking about things is the best way to get past them. To hold everything inside and pretend that nothing is wrong does not serve anyone. So, here goes.
Seven months ago, on Septmeber 19th, 2010, my son, Jaron, attempted suicide. It was a Sunday. David and I were in Sunday School, and David had been texting Jaron to see if he was going to come home that day and have dinner with us. Jaron had told his dad that he was feeling kind of depressed and anxious that day and had taken a couple of prescription meds to help him relax. Let me say here that Jaron had been diagnosed with depression about a year earlier, and then later further diagnosed with Manic Depression.
I was feeling very nervous about Jaron driving home while on the medication. I felt like my seat was electrified, and I wanted to run out of the room and go call Jaron right then, but I didn't. As soon as Sunday School was over, David checked his phone again. There was a message from Jaron. His voice was very sluggish and his speech was slurred. He said he had taken all of his pills, and that he was sorry. He was being taken to the hospital by ambulance. He asked us not to be mad at him.
We ran through the church to find Devin, then headed towards Salt Lake. We didn't know what hospital Jaron was being taken to. I started to try to call different hospitals but couldn't remember how to work my cell phone. Finally David just called 911 and asked if they could tell him where they were taking him. We were informed they were transporting him to the U of U. The car ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. I kept yelling at David to drive faster. I was in a panic and I think in shock. We finally got there and we had to wait for almost an hour. They told us Jaron was okay and that the nurse was cleaning him up. Finally they asked me, just me, to go back.
My legs felt like wet noodles. I wasn't sure how I was able to even walk around, I felt so weak. I walked back through the emergency room to where Jaron was. As they opened the door and I saw Jaron, I was shocked that he was not cleaned up at all. He had black all over his face, chin and chest from where they made him drink charcoal in the ambulance to counteract all the pills he had taken. He face was as white as a sheet. He looked and smelled like death. People who say that taking an overdose is not really a suicide attempt have never been in the room with someone who has attempted it. It was obvious to me that he had been very close to dying.
I wanted to cry, but I think I was still in shock, and I also knew that I had to be strong for Jaron. I told him that I loved him, and I thanked him for calling 911. He said he was so sorry for all of this, and he was still pretty out of it. The nurse said she had allowed me to come back before she got him cleaned up because Jaron had assured her that I liked medical stuff and I could handle it. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but I was grateful that I could be there with him.
The process of stomach pumping is not a pleasant one. They don't want you back in there the next week, so I think they purposely make it very gruelling and painful. After hours of the stomach pumping and monitoring, they moved him upstairs to a room. He had many, many, many visitors come to see him that night, mostly friends from school. Jaron is very well loved by everyone who knows him.
After everything settled down a little, Jaron told me what had led up to his overdose. I won't go into too many details, but partly it was because he was having a mixed episode, where you are depressed and manic at the same time. The best way to describe it is that you are depressed and you actually have the energy to do something about it. He had never experienced this before, and did not recognize it. After days of being in this state, it seemed like the only thing he could do. Once he had made the decision, he said he felt at peace. He took all of the pills, which took quite a long time, and then he laid down on his bed and fell asleep. Then after a few minutes, he's not sure how many, he said he felt a jolt, and he woke up. He knew immediately that he did not want to die, and he called 911. He was in his apartment alone at the time, so he had to get up and unlock the door for the paramedics.
This is the part that makes me feel so thankful. First, that Jaron even woke up is a miracle in itself. Second, that he was able to speak and go unlock the door for the paramedics is another miracle. I will be eternally grateful for those two miracles for as long as I live. I am also very grateful for those medical professionals who got there so quickly and worked so hard to save my son. I can never thank them enough.
Before this happened, and I knew that Jaron was suffering from depression, I told him that I could keep him alive. I would chain myself to his side if I had to, but I would not let him die. I found out that my powers as a mom were nothing compared to God's power. I could not save him, but God could. His Savior could and did save him. I know that for sure. I thank him every day for saving Jaron's life.
I have also learned much about the power of gratitude, the power of love, the importance of strong families, and that God will see us through the things we never thought we would have the strength or be called upon to face. This was the hardest thing I have ever had to go through in my life, and I have been through some very hard things. And yet, I still feel so very thankful that we were able to make it through and come out stronger on the other side of it. It has changed me forever. That is what our trials do for us. They change our hearts, or they give us the opportunity to allow Christ to change our hearts. As painful a process as that is, these experiences turn us toward the Savior. How can I not be grateful for that?
I am not posting this to get sympathy or attention. I am telling this story so that people will become more aware of the problem of teen suicide, and maybe as we become more aware we will be more willing to help someone who is thinking about it. A good friend of mine lost her son to suicide, and she came and talked to Jaron after all this happened. I think it was a very healing experience for both of them, and I know it was for me. Jaron and I both feel that talking about it makes us stronger and better able to cope with the emotions.
I have an amazing son, and he faces his challenges with dignity and strength. I love him with all of my heart! Please feel free to leave your comments or talk to me about this in person. The more we can talk about it, the more we can understand and help.
I bought a sewing machine on sale at Christmas time with the intention of making a rag quilt. I love rag quilts and I have always wanted to make one, but have never taken the time to do it. So after letting my new machine sit in the box for close to six months, I finally decided to give it a try. 
I looked up instruction videos on the internet until I kind of had an idea of what I needed to do. Then I bought the cutest flannel fabric I could find and went to work. It was pretty easy, just a little time consuming. Cutting the fabric squares and batting squares probably took the most time. Here are the simple instructions in a nutshell.
