I had five kids (four living) and was very inconsistent in my dealings with them. Everything depended on how I felt.......our household was dominated by my moods. Which of course is totally unacceptable, but everyone was too afraid of my wrath to confront me about it. I was undiagnosed, so nobody knew that there was a name for what was wrong with me.

Somehow, by the grace of God and some help from my sister, who lived with us during those years, we all made it through and all four of them still talk to me. One of them has chosen to do it from a distance, but there is a lot of love between us and they all forgave me a long time ago. For everything I did wrong in raising them, I did do one thing right, and that was giving them every ounce of love I had. They never doubted my love for them, not even when I was being a belligerent, bipolar bee-yotch, because they somehow knew that their "real" Mom would be back and things would be good again.

Would I do it again, knowing I had a mental illness that might make me an unstable and unpredictable parent? I honestly don't know. I can't even imagine life without those four beautiful children, who are now beautiful young adults. They are my pride and joy---nothing I've ever done in my life makes me as proud as the fact that they exist. I don't regret for an instant having had them. I guess everyone has to look to their own hearts when making decisions about family.....and the answers will be different in every case. I don't know what the OP's answer will be. All I know is that having children was the best thing I have ever done, ever.