Tina Zahn - Why I Jumped: A Dramatic Story of Finding Hope beyond Depression

Why I Jumped

Why I Jumped

My True Story of Postpartum Depression,
Dramatic Rescue & Return to Hope

Tina Zahn
with Wanda Dyson

2006 by Pilgrim Feet LLC

Published by Fleming H. Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

Second printing, September 2006

Printed in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansfor example, electronic, photocopy, recordingwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Zahn, Tina, 1968
Why I jumped : my true story of postpartum depression, dramatic rescue & return to hope / Tina Zahn with Wanda Dyson.
p. cm.
ISBN 10: 0-8007-1891-7 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-8007-1891-6 (pbk.)
ISBN International 10: 0-8007-1900-X
ISBN International 978-0-8007-1900-5
1. Consolation. 2. Depression, MentalReligious aspectsChristianity. 3.
Depressed personsReligious life. 4. Sexually abused children. 5. Postpartum depression.
6. SuicideReligious aspectsChristianity. 7. Dyson, Wanda L. I. Dyson, Wanda L. II. Title.
BV4910.34.Z34 2006
248.8625dc22
[B}

2006020878

Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture is taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

Published in association with the literary agency of WordServe Literary Group, Ltd., 10152 S. Knoll Circle, Highlands Ranch, CO 80130.

Interior design by Brian Brunsting

This book is dedicated to the power of communityto all of you who prayed for and encouraged me and my family in the darkest hours. Please hold Daniel and me accountable for building well on the foundation you laid.

And to my daughter, Sarah, who loved me through the writing of this book with her warm hugs, brilliant smile, and unique and touching artwork.

To Noah, who cheerfully went off to Marcias to play so Mommy could work, and then greeted me with those big loving smiles when it was time to come home.

And to my husband, Daniel, for being my rock.

Tina Zahn

To Christi for being there. To my daughter, Jayme, for taking the backseat while Mommy worked and never complaining about it. And to Greg and Becky Johnson for all they did to make this possible.

Wanda Dyson

Contents

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Jeremiah 29:11

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

July 19, 2004
Green Bay, Wisconsin

N ine-one-one. What is your emergency?

Tucking the cell phone under his chin, Daniel Zahn whipped the steering wheel to the left, making a sharp turn, cutting off the highway and across the median. His Durango bounced, skidding across the grass as he accelerated. My wife. Shes going to jump!

Im sorry, sir. Your wife is going to jump what?

The Tower Drive Bridge. Shes going to jump off the bridge! His tires caught pavement, the car fishtailing a bit before lurching forward, nearly knocking his cell phone off his shoulder. He grabbed it. You have to stop her!

Can you tell me where you are, sir?

Frustration and rising panic surged through Daniel as he watched his wifes car up ahead of him weave through the traffic and disappear. On 29... a couple miles east of Packerland. Shes heading for 41.

And where are you, sir?

Westbound on... No, that wasnt right. Hed made a U-turnafter spotting Tinas car and was now racing to catch up with her.Eastbound on 29. Im in a Durango. Shes driving a white Oldsmobile Aurora.

Can you see her?

No... Yes! Shes getting in the left-turn lane at Packerland. I think she may be heading home. Relief rushed over him, nearly snatching his breath away, but it was short-lived. He watched in disbelief as Tina whipped her car around waiting traffic and shot through the intersection.

No! She didnt turn! She didnt turn! Shes going for the bridge!

Parked in a vacant grocery store lot, Sergeant Bill Morgan kept half an ear on the radio as he filled out paperwork. Suddenly he heard dispatch call him.

Headquarters, four-Ida, Lincoln one-ninety-two.

Grabbing the mic, he checked in. Four-Ida.

Immediately he heard Deputy Bill Roche check in as well. One-ninety-two.

10-4, Ida. We have a 98 Olds Aurora, white. There is a suicidal female in the vehicle going ninety miles per hour at this time on 29 eastbound. Severely depressed. Subjects husband is on the line. Shes coming up on Packerland.

Thirty-odd years of training kicked in as Sergeant Morgan turned his car onto Highway 29, coaching his deputies into their places like football players, well-trained team members knowing their part of the drill and carrying it out like the pros they were. Hed known of others who had jumped from that bridge and didnt survive. There was no way he was going to let the Fox River claim another victim if he could help it.

Just as he pulled his squad car up on the ramp to 41 to watch for the white Oldsmobile, an unmarked state troopers car went screaming past, lights flashing and sirens blaring. He grabbed his mic as his foot hit the accelerator. I think her car just went by. Is someone behind her in an unmarked squad car?

10-4, Ida. State car is behind her. Shes passing cars on the shoulder.

Im right behind him. Morgan glanced down at his speedometer as he hit his siren. Seventy miles per hour and climbing. Eighty. Ninety. And still he couldnt catch up. And the ramp for Highway 43 was coming up fast. Hitting his brakes, he swung over into the right lane.

Suddenly dispatch barked into the radio. State Police Officer Boldt is right behind her, but she isnt pulling over. Shes increased speed. All units be advised. She is heading for the bridge.

The dump truck in front of Morgan slowed down for the treacherous S-turn on the exit ramp, either ignoring or unable to hear the sirens right behind him. Morgan moved a little to the left, hoping to get the truck drivers attention, but the effort was wasted. The truck merely slowed into the turn, leaving no room for Morgan to slide past him.

Slamming his hand on the steering wheel, he eased back to wait for his chance to get around the dump truck. He could only pray there was enough time. Once he hit the bottom of the ramp, it would be just over a mile to the bridge.

Seconds felt like minutes. As he monitored his deputies, received updates on the suicidal woman, and impatiently followed the dump truck, Bill Morgan felt his heart pounding into overdrive.

When they reached the bottom of the ramp, Bill glanced in his mirrors, saw the opening, and shot out onto Highway 43. Up ahead he could see Boldts lights flashing. He pressed down on the accelerator, taking the squad car to the limit. Ninety. One hundred. One-ten. One-twenty.

He hit the bottom of the bridge and saw the state police car skid to a stop at the top of the bridge. No. No. No. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw another carlights flashingright on his tail.

He grabbed his mic. Were on the bridge.

Slamming on the brakes, he skidded to a stop next to Boldts car. There was no sign of the woman. And no sign of Trooper Boldt. His heart fell, and he reported back to dispatch. She jumped!