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Dear Andrea, I've been hearing about you lately. I can't imagine what it feels like to be known around the the world as "the mother from Houston who drowned her five children in a bathtub." I first heard about you ten months ago when I was visiting the states. I saw a small item about you in a paper in South Dakota. I thought maybe you were some poor, single mother who had come to the end of her rope and her resources. Although I was horrified by what you had done, I felt pity for you. But then I arrived in Houston the day after the funeral. The picture on the front page of the Houston Chronicle showed your husband pushing a small, white casket. I could have cried. I went through my in-laws' papers and found all of the articles about you: Andrea Pia Kennedy Yates. Married to a husband who works for NASA. Middle class. Registered nurse. Homeschooler. (I homeschool my kids, too, Andrea. You're not helping our cause.) And I saw the pictures of those five beautiful, bright-eyed children. "HOW could she do it?!" I wondered, "How?" And then I read how! You told it all to the police, and they reported it to the paper. You went one by one, starting with the "most perfect" child of them all, three-year-old Paul. You told about chasing your oldest around the house and dragging him to the tub! How could you, Andrea? How could you? You reportedly told investigators that you had thought about killing the children a few years earlier, when you realized that you were not a perfect mother. Didn't anybody ever tell you there are no perfect mothers? Never have been. Never will be. No matter how many books you read about mothering, it's still all on-the-job training. We can't help but make mistakes. But kids are tough. Most of them withstand our mistakes and turn out all right. But not your kids. Your kids--not even 7-year-old Noah--were tough enough to withstand your big mistake. In some incomprehensible, evil fit that the rest of us will never understand, you killed your babies. You knew exactly what you were doing; you weren't "insane." But you were heartless. Even after you were taken to jail, you showed no signs of remorse. Maybe this was because your mind was altered by drugs. Maybe you were under some demonic influence. Maybe it's because somewhere in the busyness of life, under the strain of wanting to be the best mother and daughter in the world and in trying to be everything to everybody, your heart died. You had to do everything, but you felt nothing. Oh Andrea! How I wish I could have been there for you. I would have taken the kids for a day or a week. I would have sent you to a hotel with a pile of funny movies. You obviously needed to learn how to laugh again, how to love again. Some have written you were a victim. In a sense, I suppose they are right. You were trapped in a mental hell, further imprisoned by powerful drugs. But Noah, Paul, John, Luke and Mary were the real victims. They loved you and trusted you, and you betrayed them in the most horrible way a mother could. And now you are on trial for that betrayal. For you, it's not a question of guilt. Rather, the jury will try to determine if you were "insane" at that awful moment. American juries tend to be softhearted and soft-headed, Andrea, and that's good for you. They may acquit you. You might go free. Why, when your mind comes back, you might even write a book about your experience and get rich. But I do not envy you the time when your heart returns. Because then you will understand the heinousness of what you have done, and you won't be able to live with yourself. (A quick death might be preferable to a long life of guilt and anguish.) Please don't think I lack compassion. As a mother who has chosen to forego a career to stay home with her children, I know how frustrating life can become. When the baby's into the fifth outfit and it's not even 9 a.m., and the toddler has spilled his second glass of milk at breakfast, and the first grader wants to know what 4 plus 5 is, and the breakfast dishes are stacked halfway to the ceiling, you can become resentful. You know you have the same talents as other women who are gaining recognition in the working world, but you are stuck with "all these kids." Then you begin to resent the children and your husband for wanting so much of you. And then you may hate yourself for having such selfish thoughts, and for not being the perfect mother that you desire to be. At that point, you have a choice. You can choose to muddle through and hope that tomorrow will be a better day. Or you can do something to change the situation. Most of us muddle through. You chose to change the situation, but in the wrong way. Andrea, you have read your Bible. You know that there is forgiveness, even for the great wickedness you have done. God, through Christ, can forgive your sin. But He also says that if one man murders, he must pay for it with his own life. For the sake of justice, and for the lives of Noah, Paul, John, Luke and Mary, you must pay. I'm sorry, Andrea, I really am. I pray God will have mercy on your soul. A Mother Who Understands, But Doesn't |