I was very naive at the time of my first pregnancy. I was 26 and under the assumption that I could stop my medication while pregnant to protect my child, and then go back on it again. I assumed nothing would happen differently than any other pregnancy and subsequent birthing experience. I was so wrong. I was depressed the whole 9 months. I had Jake in August and I wasn't home for two weeks before I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. I remember my ex-husband bringing baby Jacob to the visiting hours of Canyon Springs. When I finally stabilized I was sent home to a newborn who needed the constant care of an attentive mother. The problem was I was reeling from the episode and zoned out on medication. My mother ended up taking a leave of absence from her nursing job, and staying with us.
My second pregnancy with Danny was worse. It seemed like I was asleep the whole 9 months. I barely left the house and lost interest in all my usual activities. I had stopped my meds on the advice of my pediatrician and was severely depressed. Again, after I gave birth, I had a manic episode. I was seeing a psychiatrist and he treated me without a hospitalization. The idea was to bond with the baby but I was so completely out of it that my Mom took over most of the day to day care of Danny. I was put on Seroquel and felt like a zombie. My speech was slurry and my movements shaky. We bought a ultra cozy stroller so I could wheel Danny around the house, feed him and care for him with out the fear off dropping him. My mania was intense and the doctor just couldn't seem to get me on the right medication to stop the episode. So, I was trying to take care of a newborn and raise a 6 year old while episodic. I was doomed.
For 2 years I tried to raise two children under the specter of mental illness. I was in and out of hospitals and as my marriage got worse so did my symptoms. We separated with the kids staying with my ex. I was in no condition to manage a family and that fact and the grief that came with it only exacerbated my illness. I tried living in an apartment a block away but after a year I was so ill that I moved into a board and care run by a foundation for the mentally ill. While there, I desperately tried to connect with my children by having them visit and making constant phone calls. It was a nightmare. Nothing had prepared me for how difficult it was to try to heal from bipolar disorder and have the excruciating experience of being torn from your children.
I honestly didn't think I would survive that period of my life. we divorced and bipolar disorder seemed to have defeated my efforts to be a mom. I kept at it though. I arranged visits as much as I could and holidays were spent with my immediate family. I bugged my kids with phone calls. I was desperate to connect. There were times when I was depressed and went ahead with plans anyway. The problem with that was the kids noticed and started asking questions. I had to explain my illness to them in kid terms and try to let them know it was not their fault that I got sick. It was a heart-breaker.
Over the last 15 years I have developed a close and loving relationship with my kids. It hasn't been easy but I think we are all in a good place now. I still have bipolar disorder , that hasn't changed. What has changed is my perspective. I used to worry what affect my mental illness would have on my children. Now I know that along with the negative have come some positive outcomes. They are empathetic. They treat me with loving respect and I know this translates to other people in their lives.
They say that bipolar disorder is hereditary. I hate to think that one of my children could have to face this illness. If they do, I hope they are confident that they can manage it based on my example. They can learn from my mistakes as well as my victories and hopefully deal with it far better than I. So far they have shown no signs of mental illness. For that I am grateful, but if they do I would hope that they will face this illness under much better circumstances than presently. I hope that stigma will be erased and more effective treatments will be in place. I hope that they will be met with compassion and a new understanding of diseases of the brain. I know that they will be met with a mother who knows what it's like to be faced with a diagnosis of mental illness but hopes just the same. I have tried to teach them courage and resiliency. Perhaps they have observed my struggle and have learned compassion and empathy as well. Perhaps as they become men I can enlist them in the fight to stop the stigma and shame surrounding mental illness. To them I am not "a bipolar" I am just mom.
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