It’s within those moments of complete despair and sadness, when you think briefly for a moment that you don’t want to see another sunrise that your remember who you really are and there are things left here for you to do.

I’ve only had suicidal thoughts twice in my life. The first time was after an accident I’d been involved in. I was fairly damaged from it and a doctor told me, while truly gazing into my eyes, that I may never be the same and may not recover. I went home that day and imagined slitting my wrists till my blood poured from me till I felt no more pain. But those thoughts went away and I recovered.

The second time was yesterday. I’ve spent nearly every moment of the past 6 months hating myself for what I did. I don’t think I will ever forgive myself. Ever. And I can’t take it back or change the fact that I murdered my baby before it took it’s first breath. I’ve gained weight. I’ve isolated myself from my friends and family. I’ve shoved away the most beautiful man in my life who adores me completely and stood by me. I’ve stopped living since I did it.

What stopped me from opening my veins? My son. If I killed myself it would kill my living child and I couldn’t do that.

I haven’t mentioned the beautiful son I’m lucky enough to have. He reminds me of happiness, and at the same time I regret what I did more and more when I look at him. I’d give anything for another child like him. I Never felt that way till now. I was so complete with just him. And maybe it’s just a mourning thing or a post abortive syndrome thing, but I wish I could stop thinking it. The reality is I didn’t want more kids. I sort of still don’t. But I ache for the one I killed.

Today I was reminded that he is why I’m here and improving his life and making him happy is my mission in this world. I’m truly grateful for him and these moments today that brought it into perspective.