I have a 10-year old daughter. She is smart, and beautiful, and talented. She is funny and charming and compassionate. She is also bi-polar, which means in addition to all of those aforementioned traits, she is manipulative, emotional, alternately manic and depressed. She is hypersensitive both emotionally and where her senses come into play. Noises are too loud and annoying, light is too bright, touch is too prickly. Keeping in mind that this child is only 10, it goes without saving that she is also confused. And me? I’m guilty. Because the bipolar genes came from my side of the family, not her daddy’s. Her therapist once said, “What were you going to do, NOT have children because there was a chance you’d pass this illness along to one of them?” To be truthful, there are days when I wonder how I could have done this to another person. How I could have invited this disease into her life? What kind of mother would take that chance, knowing full well how my child would suffer should she have the misfortune of inheriting not only my blonde hair or straight teeth, but also claim this illness that has caused me so much pain and heartbreak? What kind of mother would take that chance? Apparently, this kind.