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What makes a mum want to help kill her child?

Last week Kay Gilderdale was found not guilty of murdering her seriously ill daughter after she helped her to die.

The former nurse from East Sussex gave Lynn, 31, a lethal dose of morphine to inject herself with in December 2008.

During the hearing at Lewes Crown Court, Kay, 55, described how her daughter – who’d suffered from chronic debilitating illness ME for 17 years – had begged her mum to end her life.

The court case came just a week after Frances Inglis from Essex was convicted at the Old Bailey of murdering her disabled son, Tom, 22, by injecting him with a lethal dose of heroin in November 2008. The 57 year old was sentenced to a minimum of nine years in jail.

She’d claimed she couldn’t bear to see Tom – who’d suffered brain damage when he fell out of an ambulance in July 2007 – endure what she described as a “living hell.”

But while these cases had very different outcomes in court, the striking similarity is both defendants were loving mothers – so how could they willingly help end their children’s lives?

Clinical psychologist Dr Funke Baffour tells Closer: “Most mothers have a tremendously strong bond with their children, which stems from birth. So out of love mothers will always feel a duty to act in, what they perceive to be, the best interests of their child – even if this means helping them end their lives.”

Jo Cartwright, spokeswoman for the Dignity In Dying support group, adds: “The decision to end your child’s suffering is unspeakably tough. But in the cases of assisted suicide it seems the mothers feel they have no other option but to put the needs of their children first, despite not wanting to lose them.”

To find out what these mums go through, Closer spoke to Kathleen Frank, who helped her daughter Carol Kates end her life at a clinic in Switzerland – where euthanasia is legal – in May 2007. Carol suffered from MS, which progressively attacks the nervous system.

Kathleen says: “I was clinging to the false hope that her pain could be controlled. But I looked into her eyes as she told me she wanted to die with dignity and knew I had to support her.

“Although we went to Switzerland where euthanasia is legal, what I did was no different from the actions of Kay Gilderdale and Frances Inglis. No parent wants to witness their child die, but you have to put aside your own feelings.”

Carol, a midwife, was diagnosed with MS in 2000. Her nervous system deteriorated and she had to give up work in 2001. Her husband, Terry, a retired builder now in his 70s, became her full-time carer.

In March 2006, doctors warned Carol’s condition would get worse and she told her family she wanted to end her life with the help of Dignitas, the controversial Swiss group that arranges legal euthanasia.

“I was shocked places like Dignitas even existed,” says Kathleen, who is in her 70s. “But I was grateful there was a way to make the pain go away for her.”

Carol could speak, and walk with the help of a stick, but needed assistance eating and using the toilet, and she never left her Lincolnshire home.

“Watching my daughter struggle to even move around the house was frustrating and heartbreaking. It wasn’t the life I wanted for her,” says Kathleen.

“She told me she needed to be mentally capable to be accepted by doctors at Dignitas. She didn’t want to wait any longer and risk not being able to say to the doctors: ‘I am capable of making this decision myself.’ I had no choice but to give her my blessing.”

But Carol’s dad, Frank, and husband Terry, were horrified.

Kathleen explains: “They loved her deeply, and couldn’t cope with her decision. They desperately tried to talk her out of it. They told her life was still worth living, that there would be some good days.

“I suppose men don’t have that same emotional connection,” says Kathleen. “I was closest to Carol. I’d brought her into the world and I knew I had no choice but to support her, so I offered to go with her – but Frank and Terry refused.

“I was angry they couldn’t see things as we did.”

In the week before her death, retired restaurant owners, Kathleen and Frank, 78, sent their daughter a bouquet with a card saying: “Darling, you are simply the best.”

“We wanted her to have beautiful flowers to look at in her final days,” says Kathleen.

And after three emotional last dinners at their three favourite restaurants, Carol, then aged 55, said goodbye to her husband of 30 years.

“It was a private moment, but I imagine it was unbearable. Terry loved her so much and was distraught,” says Kathleen.

“I can’t put into words how I felt during the journey to Zurich, knowing I’d be returning alone,” adds Kathleen. “Part of me wanted to beg Carol to change her mind, but part of me was pleased she was soon to be free from pain. She was so calm and brave, which gave me strength.”

Kathleen and Carol were shown into an apartment at the Dignitas clinic by medical staff.

“They filled in the paperwork while Carol drank some brandy and smoked a final cigarette. We talked about our holidays to Australia and family get-togethers, then she said: ‘I’m ready now,’” says Kathleen.

She held Carol’s hand as she drank a lethal dose of the drug Pentobarbital, which sedated her, then caused respiratory arrest.

“I popped a chocolate into her mouth to take away the bitter taste of the poison, and said: ‘Go to sleep now, my darling,’” says Kathleen, her voice breaking with emotion.

“She quietly looked into my eyes before gently closing hers. She had a smile on her face and it was like she was falling asleep. Her death was beautiful; it was very peaceful and serene.

“Afterwards I sat by the window and cried and cried.”

Back home Frank and Terry found it difficult to talk about what happened.

“Part of me was angry with them, and thought they were being selfish. I was grieving too, but I was pleased I’d given my daughter what she wanted – a dignified death."

“Some might say I was selfish as I couldn’t bear to see my child suffer,” says Kathleen. “But I think it’s more selfish to let someone go on living in pain when we’re able to help ease it.”

Kathleen and Frank will never let their daughter’s memory fade – their house is filled with photos of Carol, and they talk about her all the time.

She adds: “We may have been divided before, but we both miss her dearly. She was the most loving daughter. She used to phone every day. Now, when we’re low we tell ourselves: ‘She’s at peace, not in pain.’

“Her death has hit me much harder than I ever imagined, but I’ll never regret my actions.”

By Natalie Corp