Motherhood

I’ve read in books and comments on the Internet that people who are bipolar are actually advised to not have children. This advice comes from friends, and, surprisingly, from doctors. I have mixed emotions about this. Mostly, though, it makes me sad that people actually believe that because life will present specific challenges, it’s not worth living. Many babies will be born with a specific pre-disposition to have some type of health challenge, but if you’re bipolar, you shouldn’t reproduce? That’s the biggest load of CRAP. It is true that bipolar is genetic, and my children have a chance of getting it, but there’s no guarantee they will. And if everybody stopped having kids because of the possibility of getting a disease- no one would ever reproduce.

I desperately wanted to be a mother, both the first time (before I knew I was bipolar) as well as the second time (when I knew full well the challenges I would face). I believe it was a desire that God placed in me. The memory of this heavenly desire keeps me going, even when I feel like a failure as a mother.

All of us mothers face challenges. And I’m sure most, if not all, question the job they are doing. Am I doing right by my child? Am I giving him every possible advantage? Am I teaching him everything he needs to know to survive in this world? My boy is only 6, and I face these questions every day. Is he getting enough social time? Is he learning everything he needs to at school? Am I attentive enough to him at home, even when my girls need me? Sadly, I feel the answer too often is no.

Then there are my girls. Hello- surprise! You’re getting two at once. That’s enough to make anyone feel overworked and underappreciated. I do anything to make my life a little easier. Small things become huge, and very important. For example, I have decided to make my girls match clothes as often as possible; not because I think it’s cute, but because that’s one less decision I have to make. We don’t go places much because it’s too much of a hassle to take the girls anywhere; load them in and out of the car, take the stroller everywhere I go because I can’t carry both and still have a hand free. Church is a nightmare for me. I am so grateful to a few specific people who volunteer their arms to hold a girl, while I take the other out to change a diaper. Or to take both girls altogether and let me just sit in peace and get something out of church- be spiritually fed myself. You have no idea how much this means to me, ladies. Thank you.

The hardest days, though, are when my bipolar gets in the way of me being the best mom I can be. It becomes a giant hurdle that I have to face- in addition to the regular stresses of parenthood. When I’m depressed, I become unresponsive. I have so little energy that all I can do is cry… yet if I dig deep enough, maybe I’ll find it in me to get off the couch and console a crying baby, or change a poopy diaper. My response time when depressed, however, has decreased considerably. I’m sure my children wonder where I am- even when I’m right in front of them. Depression makes parenthood exceptionally difficult.

As does mania. One symptom of mania is irritability. I can always tell when my mania (or hypomania) is acting up because of my sensitivity to noise. You wouldn’t think this was an issue with mania- because my voice becomes louder and more dominant in the room. But what really gets to me is the talkativeness of a 6 year old, and the crying of a couple of babies. My girls are getting old enough that they have started competing for my attention. They do this by seeing who can scream and cry the loudest. The fact is- I can’t really console both at the same time. I try, but then the girls are close enough to each other that they hit and push the other- trying to be the one closer to me. When I’m hypomanic (because, truthfully, I don’t get truly manic all that often… just a slightly milder form of mania), this noise is too much for me to take. My irritability sky rockets, and I start screaming, too.

I count myself very lucky. It could be a lot worse. But, my kids have sure heard how loud my voice can go, and that’s still enough to make me go to bed with countless regrets. How dare I raise my voice to my children who just needed a little reassurance from me? I recognize that it is very selfish of me to act the way that I do, but it’s all I know how to do right now. I am working on techniques and strategies to calm myself when I’m manic (to be discussed in a future blog). Bipolar is a discipline. It’s something that forces me to learn and be in control. It is not always easy, but for my kids? Definitely worth it.