Moms Who Kill Their Kids

It’s the motherlode of motherhood’s darkest topics, guaranteed to make you recoil even if you have personal familiarity with miscarriage, infertility, birth defects, stillborn infants or child abuse: moms who kill their own kids.


The predictable reaction when a mom murders children: headlines sure to inspire shock and horror.


Which was exactly what I felt when I read the news last week that 25-year-old Lashanda Armstrong drove her minivan off a boat ramp into the Hudson River, drowning three of her four children and herself. Only her 10-year-old son survived, escaping through a car window after trying in vain to free his brother and sister from their car seats.


After the first wave of revulsion passed, I suffered something worse than horror: identification with Armstrong’s isolation and desperation.


I have never wanted to kill myself or my children. I love them more profoundly than I ever could have imagined loving anyone or anything. I bet Lashanda Armstrong did too. But I have to admit that I’ve deeply regretted having my children. For fleeting moments, sometimes as long as a day or two, I’ve hated what motherhood has done to my independence, my career, my marriage, and my soul. I’ve been completely, utterly leveled by the endless responsibility of caring for my children. I’ve despised myself for my lack of ability to be the joyful, loving, patient mother I always thought I’d be. I’ve wanted, deep in the pit of my stomach, to run away, to let someone more capable raise my kids, and to never, ever come home again.


I didn’t have my first child until I was 33. I’m still married to my children’s father, a nice guy on most days. We have financial stability, extended family, kids without mental or physical disabilities, and enough resources to hire babysitters and other “help.”


So it seems natural enough to identify with, and feel sympathy for, a mom like Lashanda Armstrong. She had her first child at 15. At 25, before many women marry, she was raising four children. She was working fulltime and going to school. She was trying to disentangle herself and her children from the abusive, neglectful father of her three youngest children.


In many ways, what’s most remarkable is that our society could ever rationally expect one person to shoulder the myriad responsibities Lashanda Armstrong faced every day.



But at the same time it’s natural to want to distance ourselves from a mom who kills her kids. A mom like Leisa Jones, the 32-year-old single mother who killed herself and her children by setting fire to her Staten Island home in 2010. Hence the shock and horror, the kneejerk “How could she?” reactions.


It’s important to explore this dreadful subject beyond our initial recoil, as Michel Martin recently did on NPR’s Tell Me More. Talking about how normal it is, at times, for good moms to hate motherhood could offer powerful comfort to moms desperate enough to ponder taking their own lives and their children’s.



Wow! Thank you for posting such a gut wrenchingly honest article. I have said on more than one occasion, more or less what you have posted here. Most moms are appalled. Like you, I'm not making excuses or even coming close to saying the choice is reasonable or sane or right, I just understand that for a mom to take her children's lives something has to be dreadfully wrong. In the cases where it's overwhelm and abuse/neglect/extreme stress it is so sad...largely because as women we have not found a way to make it OK to say that we are stressed, overwhelmed or even momentarily wishing we didn't have kids and ask for help. These words are taboo -- and I don't mean to disrupt the life of anyone who is struggling so hard to have kids for whom these statements seem particularly unthinkable. Thankfully most of us have the resources in friends and family to take a deep breath and remember the great stuff...Thanks -- well said!