Deadly Birthday Cake

“She’s not breathing! Get the doctor!” The nurse was visibly shaken, and she looked like she was about to cry as she ushered me out of the room saying they needed room to work.

“Code Blue ICU, Code Blue ICU” came over the hospital intercom. I had heard it many times before, but this time was different. This time it was not some unknown person somewhere in the hospital. It was my daughter, my precious innocent daughter who did not deserve to have her life cut short.

In her mid-twenties with her whole life ahead of her, my daughter had just finished college and her first year of missionary training. When she came home on break, I was anxious to give her a birthday party. Always concerned with making a difference in the world, most of her birthdays were spent away from home on mission trips.

Before that fateful moment when she stopped breathing, I sat by her hospital bed for 4 days.

I wondered if she would ever regain consciousness or if her next breath would be her last. I found myself taking every breath with her, for her it seemed.

I prayed, a lot. Almost constantly.

How could this be happening? How could God allow my daughter to meet with tragedy after she had spent her entire existence in service to Him? I had so many questions but no answers.

I blamed myself for what was happening. I thought if only I had not insisted that she come home for her birthday, maybe none of this would be happening.

It all started before the party. I thought it was odd that my mother insisted on cutting a big slice of chocolate cake before the guests had arrived. “Mom! Wait! Please don’t…” I could not stop her. She was determined that my kids and I were going to sample the cake she had brought. I was busy getting last minute things done for the party, so I gave my piece to the birthday girl! Little did any of us know it was laced with rat poison and lots of it!

It was nearly a year later before I found out the truth. My mother had been poisoning my children and me. She came to dinner several times a week. Always the gracious guest, my mom was all too happy to help set the table and make the drinks. That is how she administered the poison, slowly over the years.

I eventually learned that she had used rat poison to kill my grandfather and others.

“Momma, I am so sorry. She made me do it!” Those words coming from my 10-year-old daughter, as she confessed to helping my mom kill my grandfather, chilled me to the bone. That same little girl confessed to poisoning her sisters and me on numerous occasions. “I can tell you what the box of rat poison looks like if that will help?” she said as I sat staring at her in total disbelief.

I could not comprehend how or why any mother would want her child and grandchildren dead. It was more than I could wrap my head around.

When my therapist explained that my mom is a narcissistic sociopath, something clicked. Her bouts of erratic, irrational behavior suddenly made sense. She never shed a tear, even when close family members died. She seemed to love funerals.

Countless times in my childhood, the family pet would die suddenly. My mom was always the hero. She saved the day by taking care of the deceased animal and quickly replaced it with another pet. However, that animal would soon die just as mysteriously. I came to realize my mom likely poisoned all those animals through the years. Yet, the idea that my mom wanted my kids and me dead was exceedingly difficult for me to grasp.

When I read the report from the toxicologist and it showed extremely high levels of heavy metal poisoning, that was enough to convince me that my littlest daughter was not lying. My mom really did want me and my other kids dead and she was using my own child to get it done.

The detective was somber as he delivered the news. “We are going to have to close out the investigation. I have no doubt you and your children were poisoned but there is no proof that your mom is the one who did it. We questioned her and she denied it saying you probably poisoned yourself just to get those toxicology results.” I hung up the phone in total disbelief.

My mom is a serial killer, and she is free to go on poisoning anyone who crosses her.

Female serial killers are rare, but they do exist. It is common for them to use poison as their weapon.

I am thankful that my daughters and I survived the poisoning that took the lives of several other family members.

To this day, chocolate cake is not allowed in my house, and I think twice before eating anything someone else has prepared.