A little more than two years ago, Amber Traxler’s life was engulfed by PTSD, all while her son fought for his life. She recalls the day vividly, the image never leaving her mind. Amber’s son, only ten years old, tried to end his life by hanging himself. By the time he was discovered, there was no life left in him. His skin had turned a deep, dark purple, and blood dripped from his mouth. Panic spread throughout Amber’s mind as her thought process turned to disbelief. None of this could be happening. None of this could be real.
Amber was also almost thirty weeks along with her youngest daughter and physically unable to get into the room. Her mom and sister had to push through her to get to him. He had hung himself from the door, his body leaning against the door, which made it difficult for people to get inside. Amber could only stand by and watch as her mom was able to get him down and breathe some life into him. He was airlifted to a children’s hospital, where he stayed for almost a week on life support.
“What kind of things are running through Amber’s mind?” Amber was thinking about several things. One thing was the possibility that this could have been an accident, mere curiosity getting the better of the child. “What kind of ten-year-old thinks about suicide?” Kids are still babies themselves. Maybe he meant to. Maybe he had a reason. He had a good support system in her family. In a split second, she was faced with the very real possibility of not only losing her son but the child she was carrying. “If I ever reach my breaking point, I will be lost. I will never be the same. I will be somebody else. I will cause trouble. I will be trouble. I will be incredibly depressed. I will be miserable. This would be the world’s biggest problem. I will be the world’s biggest problem. I will be angry. I will be incredibly angry. I will be angry at the world. I will be angry at myself. I will be angry at the world long before I am angry at myself. I will be mad. I will be so mad. This would be the biggest problem the world has ever faced.
There was precious little sleep that week. And what there was, was rebirthing old hurts. It had been sixteen years since Amber had lost her Papaw and her step-uncle to the ultimate form of selfishness – suicide. It was never spoken of in her presence. So when it happened to her child, she was in denial.
Shortly after his release from the hospital, his mother put him in a children’s psychiatric facility. The reality is that he planned this attempt. He wanted to be with his stepdad, who had died the previous year because of sleep apnea. Amber learned that her son has also been struggling with disappointment and heartbreak over his father, who has been leaving him with empty promises. His father had even pretended to be dead years ago; this he had dealt with alone, alone with feelings of unworthiness. This still goes on till this time with empty promises.
But after the admittance, Amber went back home, and the nightmares began. Amber awoke, panicked, looking for the machines in the hospital, trying to catch her breath as she remembered the terror of the experience. The nightmare lingered into daylight hours. Though she hid her torment well, there were some days when happiness eluded her. But she always made a point that her son should never think he was the cause of her suffering.
Her children were her universe. The fear of losing them engulfed her. Nothing in the house remained that could serve as a choking hazard. Her parenting style changed completely; slamming doors made her fear-crazed. No anger could remain in the house overnight. Two years passed before Amber began concentrating on healing, as did her child. Counseling, advocacy, and education were the tools this time. Learning more about mental health helped, although the memories would stay with her for the rest of her life.
