My husband and I are beginning to seriously consider having a child or two, though not for several years. My dillemma is that I am at least the third generation of family who is depressed and has been hospitalized for being suicidal or for suicide attempts. My husband’s mom is bipolar.
I did go through a period of resenting my parents, mostly because I felt unprepared and uneducated when I began feeling depressed.
However, I am doing a lot better now. I have a job in my desired career field, and am making plans to go back to school after dropping out three years ago.
I am very grateful to be alive and loved. But I cannot imagine the grief my grandparents must have experienced when one of their daughters committed suicide, or my parents would have felt if I had gone through with my plans. Should I risk inflicting pain and possible despair on my offspring?
So far I am the only one of my siblings with these problems. My sister is old enough that she would have shown signs of depression by now. My brother is only twelve, so we are all keeping an eye on him as he becomes a teenager.
My husband is perfectly healthy.
I know that healthy children are never guaranteed, and that many depressed people manage their illness and live fulfilling lives. But how many of us would have rather never been born?
I think the majority of depressed or otherwise mentally ill people in the US are receiving much better treatment than was available even 20 years ago. There is every reason to believe things will continue to get better. If you want children and feel that you can care for them, I think it’s at least worth a discussion with your shrink.
I don’t resent my parents for anything they passed on to me, either by genes or upbringing:
endomorphism: No fun, but I can handle it by watching my lifestyle. myopia: ZAP! Solved. Don’t I love that I work for a LASIK clinic? Christianity: In a way, I’ll always be recovering from it, but it wasn’t an unmitigated harm for me. ADHD: We medicated it for a while, and I grew out of it in my 20s. Now a non-issue. chronic depression: Sure, I wish I were different, but I don’t know any other way to be.
I’d like to think (and maybe it’s just easy for me to say) that even if I’d been born deaf or blind or physically or mentally handicapped, that I would still be glad to be alive. The only kind of thing I could see myself resenting my parents for would be if they’d knowingly passed me some physical ailment that gave me a life expectancy of under 20 years or something like that. I’m sure I would rage against them for it.
There are two paranoid schizophrenics on my mother’s side of the family, and my mom is severly bipolar (she won’t seek help, which makes her even more of a joy). Depression runs on my dad’s side of the family, he has it and so do I.
My mother’s side of the family is huge and Mormon - I have literally hundreds of relatives. Aside from those three, I’ve never heard about any other cases of mental illness. The depression sucks, but its never been severe with most people on my dad’s side, so I don’t worry about it being passed along, and I don’t wish I was never conceived. I control the depression, it does not control me.
I’ve never been through that phase. I’ve been through the depressed what’s the point of it all angst…but to never have been born at all is frightening. Too frightening.
KneadToKnow, probably most of us do go through that phase, but I mean a persistent and long-lasting desire, tied in with the belief that your life will always be horrible.
Kalhoun, you make a good point about improving health care. I guess I just worry about the people who don’t grow out of it or manage it in their twenties to thirties. Sure my dad and uncle were doing better by their thirties, but my aunt killed herself.
Those of you in your thirties and above who manage your depression or other mental problems, what makes you say, “Yeah, I have a good life, it’s worth it?”
Personal accomplishment, family, what?
I don’t resent my parents having me. Depression was (and still is in a lot of ways) poorly understood, so I’m sure my father 1) never considered himself “depressed” and 2) thought any problems he was experiencing had to do with personal weakness, not something that could be passed on to his children.
So my sister and I got the proverbial short end of the stick, mental health-wise. I still struggle with it, although she’s doing much better (her problems now seem to be more anxiety-related, so her meds help a lot). But all in all, I like me and depression is just an annoying aspect of myself I have to struggle with.
I wonder why, when I hear people discussing whether or not they want kids because of possible problems being passed on, that mental health problems are the only ones that ever come up (although I’m sure the discussion is different in households with Tay-Sachs carriers or something similar). I know several people who have chosen not to have children because of mental health problems in their families, but having kids is always a crap shoot. Why not worry about breast cancer, heart disease, obesity, autism, or stupidity? (Unfortunately, I’ve never heard someone say “We don’t want to have children because our families have long histories of producing mouth-breathers.”)
The way I look at it, my hypothetical children have an advantage because 1) I know what to look out for, so can get them help as soon as I see any signs of mental health problems and 2) by the time I do have children, hopefully even more advances will be made in treating depression. I realize that it may be a struggle, that I may have depressed children, but with the right support and treatment they can still lead fulfilling lives.
I suspect that I inherited more than a few flaws, mental and otherwise, from my parents, their parents and so forth:
Depression? Probably from my dad and his dad.
ADD? Again, I think it’s most likely Dad to blame for that.
Polycystic Ovarian Syndrom? Mom’s mom, as I look extremely like her, down to the apple shaped figure and insulin tolerance.
In the end though, the good at least balances out the ill. Along with the bad stuff, I’ve inherited a really smart brain, a lovely sense of humor, pretty eyes, great voice, and a family that just about beats them all.
So, no. My parents didn’t choose to have the genes they do. They didn’t get to pick my chromosomes either. At least I, unlike my grandmother, grandfather and other ancestors, live in a time where medical science has made huge improvements in diagnosing and treating these problems. At least I, unlike my grandparents, live in an age of unimagined wealth and opportunity. At least I, unlike my grandparents, don’t have to fight tooth and nail just to make a living.
And, I figure that, barring a global catastrophe, it will only be better for any children I might have, no matter how lousy the genes I pass them are.
Depression runs in my family, but is/was largely ignored. Well until me that is. I managed to bring it to the forefront of a lot of people’s minds, and even prompted a few to do something about it.
I figure I’ll just have to explain it to the kids somehow. While they’re teens, I’ll watch for the signs, and do something about it. I feel them out regularly now, one is approaching teen years, and is starting to show signs, but it could also be what a lot of teens go through. But in my case, I’ll watch even more carefully.
I did go through a period when I wonder what my parents were thinking, but that would be for a lot of other reasons, not the depression thing. I have a hard time dealing with myself sometimes, and think it might not be fair to my kids for passing it on to them, but they’re so loved, and generally a happy lot. I just have to figure that there would always be something, so I’ll just have to hope that they don’t end up resenting me for it later on. Does it weigh in on the decision to have a child? For me it did, you bet!
I don’t resent my parents for having me but I’ve half-jokingly told them that they probably shouldn’t have considering their conflicting personalities, which I was lucky enough to inherit the most contradictory aspects of, and I’ve never once thought to blame them for my depression.
Yeah, I do kind of resent my parents for having me, because I got the double whammy of bad genes and a crappy upbringing from people who were too disturbed to properly raise a child. In my case, however, the problem of further propagation has solved itself, as my disturbed state has made it impossible for me to attract a mate.
My parents both have had severe issues with depression and anxiety and they definitely passed those on to me. But they also passed on their good looks and creative talent (whether the latter is hereditary might be debatable, but I like to think that it is, either through nature or nurture) - so that makes up for it, in my opinion. I’d rather have a few psychological issues than not be born.
You ever have someone say something nice about you but it still leaves you nonplused? I’ve been declared “remarkably well adjusted, considering” and “extremely resilient” by a parent’s therapist. Both my parents have mental illnesses (one is bipolar, the other depressed with paranoid personality disorder) but I don’t. Instead I have the role of what Sampiro calls “the keeper” and I sometimes resent that. There’s a lot of pressure in being the one others depend on, and at this point in my life already I miss more time from work because of my parents’ needs than because of illness and they’re only in their 50s. Not to mention paranoia is difficult to deal with, particularly when it’s you who bears the brunt of the reoccurring, impossible to predict, distrust - if my brother was around more, maybe it would be him instead, who knows.
I try not to lie very often, but I’ve been asked by them if they have made me not want kids, and I said no even though it’s a not insignificant portion of the reason. There’s nothing to be gained from admitting the truth as far as I’m concerned.
My personal point of view would be to worry more about the quality of parenting that would be delivered by the mentally-ill parent, than the possibility of passing on the illness.
My mother in law is manic-depressive and this has had a profound impact on my husband’s life as a child/teenager and has carried on to adulthood (although this is lessening over time).
I think that’s a very important point. You are much better armed to deal with your own mental problems but also with any your children happen to have than your parents and grandparents were. Dad had several periods of depression, but he never would have admitted he did. Mom points out Dad’s depressive periods, but of course she has never been depressed herself, no no, you must be imagining it!
I remember a recent thread by Argent Towers where he mentioned that having his parents (from whom he inherited the depression) tell him “yes it sucks but it can pass and will pass” helped. I know I’d be more likely to believe that from someone who’s BTDT than from someone who hasn’t.
I had a period of depression when I did wish I hadn’t been born but I saw myself as useless on my own, didn’t blame my parents for having me. The one thing I regret inheriting from Dad is a tendency to volunteer for anything that looks like a battlefront if the cause is worthy (a coworker used to call me Ms Quixote); the one I regret getting from Mom is my shape (although apparently the males of the species like it, and I’m more interested in sex with them than in sex with me). Neither is enough to wish I hadn’t been born.
From my perspective, almost no one goes through that phase.
(one thing I always get from the dope is that people are just surrounded by completely different people from birth all through adult-hood, and it completely dominates your perspective on things.)
I don’t resent them having me. I resent them never telling me about it. Imagine my surprise when years undiagnosed causes of chest pains and throat constriction culminated into a full blown heart attack (I thought) at the age of 25. Turns out it was a panic attack and I’d been suffering from Generalized Anxiety Disorder for years. My mom and sister both take medication for it, and I’ve been completely oblivious my entire life. Sheesh!
Now I have it under control (for the most part) on my own, but I could have been handling it for a longer period if someone just thought to tell me about the family history instead of hiding it out of shame.
