Day Nine: Of Water, Wine, and Siren Songs (part 3c)

****Note: This entry contains very intense mentions of suicide (non-graphic). Please read with caution if you are triggered by these subjects.

Out of the nothingness, I hear a sound.

It sounds strange, muted, and far away, but familiar, like birds chirping. As soon as that thought goes through my head, my brain clicks a little and a dim realization penetrates that the sound I heard is my cell phone's text message notification sound. Instinctively, I reach for the last place I recall laying it and my fingers close around the hard outer case. As I glance at the screen, I open my messages and see that it is from Sif. 

My eyes move silently over the message and as I read, I can hear Sif's voice in my head as if she is sitting there beside me, talking to me face to face. "Please don't hate me! I only JUST saw your message. I accidentally left my phone on the charger in the truck and forgot about it last night. I know we were going to swim today, but it's looking kind of rainy. Do you want to do it another day or bring the girls over and chance it? I love you!"
As I finish reading her message, I look up and reality snaps back into sharp focus. I am not alone in the house. I have children. My children are here. I have a husband. Oh God, what happened to me? Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God, please forgive me for what I was about to do. M² is standing there, Wii balance board beneath her feet, attempting to do something that looks like a lunge exercise. AB is sitting in one of the little plastic play chairs, face screwed up in concentration as she colours in her colouring book. GB is still asleep in her crib, blissfully unaware of anything. These realizations slam through my consciousness, shaking the last vestiges of the dark, delirious, suicidal fever from my brain.My breaths are coming faster and faster and my heart is beating so rapidly that I feel as though it will explode out of my chest. I am shaking all over and with trembling fingers, I reply to Sif's message with just seven words. 

"Yes. Please. I am losing my mind." 

Her response is swift and concerned, "Oh honey. Y'all come on over. Raffie and I will meet you at the pool. I love you!" 

I reply back, still shaking and barely able to breathe: "I need to get our stuff together and get the girls dressed in their suits. We'll leave in about 10-15. I'll let you know when we're on our way." 

Something in the writing of this last message calms some of the shaking, but I am still in shock and as I finally stand up, I suddenly feel weak and shaky and wonder if my legs will support my weight. I gingerly take a slow step forward toward the stairs and find that despite how weak I feel, they still work. After telling the older girls that I am going upstairs for a moment, I make my way up the steps, trying to take deeper breaths as I do. By the time I reach our bedroom, my legs feel a little stronger and my breathing is more even. I look at my phone's clock and realise that it is late afternoon. As we are leaving to go to Sif's so late in the day, I decide that I need to text or call Gray so that he will know where we are. I feel suddenly a little weak and lean across our bed on my stomach, my phone clutched in my hands like a life preserver. 

With a shock, I realise that I can't just pretend that this didn't happen and that I need to tell him. Oh, but I am scared. Terrified. I open my text messages and although I feel like sobbing, the tears are still nowhere to be found. I am full of remorse over something that didn't happen and suddenly feel the need to apologise to Gray for what I have almost done. My hands shake all over again and I bite my lower lip as I tap the letters, "I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. Please forgive me." I hit the send button and bury my face in the bedsheets.

A moment later, my phone starts ringing. When I answer, Gray's voice is full of concern as he asks, "What's going on, hon?" I manage to tell him the barest outline of what almost happened and that after I get myself and the girls dressed and ready, we are headed to Sif's to swim so they can play and because I don't feel okay to be alone. I hear him sigh. He is worried. He asks if I want him to come home after work or head to Sif's. I know immediately that I need him there too. I need his strength. I need his arms around me, holding me and reassuring me that somehow this will get better. I tell him to meet us there. Before we hang up, he asks if I am sure I am okay to drive to Sif's apartment. I know that somehow I will be, despite how weak I feel and how shaken I am by what happened. I tell him that I will be okay, we tell each other "I love you" and end the call.

A few minutes later, we are in the van, riding the 20 minutes or so to Sif's apartment. When we pull up in front of the apartment office near the pool, the older girls are out of their car seats in nothing flat and I can hear GB making sweet baby noises from her car seat, clearly excited by her sisters' chatter, laughter, and quick movements. I get out and open the door where GB is, lift her out of her seat and situate her against my left hip while I grab her diaper bag and the rest of our stuff. The older girls clamber out of the van and skip down the sidewalk ahead of me as I lock the van and follow behind. I watch them loping along, happy and carefree and am suddenly hit with a thought that had never occurred to me. One of those two would have found me. Oh my God. I am even more horrible than I thought. It is bad enough to lose your mother....but oh God....my precious girls...please forgive me, Lord. Please forgive me for almost putting them through so much pain. My breath catches and I find it difficult to get a decent lungful of air as I walk slowly along the path toward the pool.

I open the gate and Sif spots me as we descend the steps to the pool deck. She meets me at the bottom of the steps, takes the bags from me and puts them beside her deck chair. Then she holds out her arms and says, "Give me that baby and you, get in the water." I hand GB off to Sif, strip down to my bathing suit, and wade into the water. In an instant, I plunge beneath the surface, legs kicking and arms pushing the water out of my way, propelling me forward. I am determined, focused, and swim from one end of the pool to the other in a single breath. I burst out of the water at the opposite end, lungs on fire, heart pounding, and every muscle in my body determined to go limp with weakness. I cling to the side of the pool, gasping loudly for air and drowning in emotion. I have never felt such an intense physical need to cry. The agony of this need is so overwhelming that my throat constricts and I feel heat around my eyes as though any moment they may issue forth the tears that have eluded me for so long. Before I am aware of it, I am audibly sobbing, but there are no tears with it, just my whimpering and shaking shoulders as I bury my face in my hands in despair.

I have survived the siren song of suicide. Just barely, but I have survived.