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Recently in Salon Mothers Who Think

Giving in to Ritalin
I hate it, but my son needs it.
By Karen Shoemaker
[11/30/99]

Till death do us part
Is it a promise of love or a life sentence? Our readers weigh in with advice.
By Jennifer Foote Sweeney and Amy Benfer
[11/29/99]

Buy flowers! Buy new drapes!
A touch of consumerism and a lot of realism will make this one work.

[11/29/99]

She jokes, he sulks
Kids! Cut the posturing and hostility!

[11/29/99]

Close the door on open marriage
Read our lips, say readers: Open marriages don't work.

[11/29/99]

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News of the pregnancy was so traumatic to poor Nigel that he tried to kill himself. He was committed to a psychiatric hospital from which he then tried to run away. The pressure of being a father was too much for a man who was chronically unemployed and, given the state of his mental health, was clearly barely able to cope with life.

Emily, meanwhile, was pleased with the news of her pregnancy. It transpired that it had not been an accident on her part. She wanted to be a mother, and she was prepared to go through with it regardless of the difficult circumstances in which she would be forced to raise her child.

My first reaction on hearing the news was to blurt out, without a second of thought, "Hey, why don't we adopt the baby?" It was intended as a joke, or at least that's what I told everyone later. But once the words were out, there was no erasing them from Louise's mind. As is her way, she saw an opportunity and went for it.

Of course, it hadn't even been decided yet that the baby should be adopted. It was merely an assumption that everyone in the family was making, if in fact there was to be a baby at all. It was early enough in the pregnancy for Emily to consider an abortion. Louise's parents -- who have been surrogate parents to Emily since the death of her own -- drove up to Scotland to argue the case. Emily wouldn't hear it. She wanted to keep this baby.

Meanwhile, Nigel's condition deteriorated. He was back at home but was clearly suffering a breakdown. He became completely paranoid about the world outside his front door. He refused to bathe or shave or wash his hair. His skin became encrusted with dirt, his hair matted. He looked frighteningly like Charles Manson, and his talk of murderous dreams furthered the impression that this man was not fit to be a father.

Some in the family suspected a clever ploy to win sympathy and avoid responsibility at the same time. But the longer his hair grew, the more those suspicions faded. It wasn't possible for anyone to keep up an act like this for so long. And anyone who did was clearly mentally ill anyway.

Emily's mental health, too, began to worsen as being pregnant meant she was unable to take the powerful drugs that help her maintain control over what's going on inside her head. She and Nigel dragged each other down, spiraling into their paranoia about the evil spirits in the water supply and killer radiation emanating from the television screen. Emily became convinced that the bump that was growing in her belly was really a fibroid.

In October, Emily was sectioned into a psychiatric hospital. A few weeks later, she was transferred to another hospital where doctors performed a caesarian without her consent. Chain smoking had weakened her placenta and eight months into the pregnancy it had collapsed. The doctors ignored Emily's wish not to have surgery in order to save the baby's life.

Sweet baby James was born Nov. 2, 1996. One month premature, he weighed only 4 pounds. Photographs of Emily holding him in the hospital are a reminder of the terrible state she was in at the time. She was disturbingly thin; her face was drawn, her complexion gray.

James remained in the hospital for six more weeks, during which time the local social-services department decided that he would not be released into Emily's arms but into foster care. A good family was found for him locally so that Emily would be allowed to see him under supervision, at least until a decision was made as to his future.

By now, the saga up in Scotland had completely consumed Louise's family and Louise herself was following each development as though her own life depended on it -- which in a sense it did. Although I freely admit I was the first to suggest adoption, I hadn't yet agreed to proceed with such a thing and secretly prayed -- for entirely selfish reasons -- that Emily and Nigel would make a dramatic recovery so the issue need never be discussed beyond the hypothetical, which was where it still was.

I am not proud of this, but I have to confess to being scared to death of James. With one parent diagnosed as schizophrenic he had a 10 percent chance of developing the illness himself, we were told. If both were schizophrenic, then his chances jumped to nearly 50 percent. I didn't know how well I could cope with that.

My own cousin was schizophrenic and, after much torment, killed himself at the age of 33. Another member of my immediate family has suffered from depression for much of my life, at times torturing the family with talk of suicide. Mental illness is something I have experienced and I didn't know if I really wanted to invite it back into my life, or perhaps more importantly, if I was emotionally equipped to deal with it.

Next page | I was staggered by the speed with which Emily made her choice