I think if I'd known I was bipolar way back when I was first married and thinking about kids, I wouldn't have had them. Not only would I not have wanted to pass this thing on to them, but I wasn't a great mother and the only totally stable influence in their lives was my sister. The fact that they knew I loved them with everything I had, and that their father loved all of us, is the only reason we are all on good terms.....well, except for the older son, who's bipolar as hell and will deny it to the death.

I'm another female who's never been totally domesticated either---I'm only a passable cook, I never joined the PTA, and I hate housework with a pink and purple passion (unless I'm manic). Being a nurse as well as a mom, I was (and am) good at the nurturing and cheerleading thing, but I never took a huge interest in the kids' schools or their music or their culture. I didn't even really enjoy having other peoples' kids around until mine were teenagers, and then it was tolerable and sometimes even fun.

When I look back, I don't regret having children.....I love them more than I've ever loved anything, and I'm prouder of them than of anything I personally have ever accomplished. They are all beautiful, loving human beings, and they're producing some pretty awesome grandchildren. I only wish I'd been able to be consistent in raising them, because I see their hesitancy sometimes in dealing with their own little ones. And of course, I still worry that my illness will be passed on to the grands through the bad genes I gave their moms and dads, just as they were passed on to me from my own mother's side of the family.