First Person Account:
Schizophrenia and Motherhood
by Valerie Fox
The article that follows is part of the Schizophrenia
Bulletin's ongoing First Person Account series. We
hope that mental health professionals—the Bulletin's
primary audience—will take this opportunity to learn
about the issues and difficulties confronted by con-
sumers of mental health care. In addition, we hope
that these accounts will give patients and their families
a better sense of not being alone when confronting the
problems that can be anticipated by persons with seri-
ous emotional difficulties. —The Editors.
Abstract
With this article I want to give insight into what hav-
ing children and dealing with schizophrenia is like. I
go from a young woman wanting to experience moth-
erhood, to being diagnosed with schizophrenia, to
marrying and having two children.
It is not easy dealing with schizophrenia and
mothering, but the rewards are wonderful. In my case,
I had one very serious schizophrenia episode, and I
became homeless and my children went to live with
their father.
I eventually got better and reunited with my chil-
dren, but our lives had changed. In this article I describe
the adjustments we all had to make, the heartaches, the
struggles, and finally the love that has prevailed.
Today, especially with the newer medications,
more persons suffering with mental illness are marry-
ing, and the possibility of starting families is very real.
Perhaps a young person with a diagnosis of mental ill-
ness will read my factual account, and it will help her
to make a decision that will change the rest of her life.
In closing the article, I raise the question, "If I had
to do it over again, would I?" I also share the reason
for my decision.
Keywords: Motherhood, children, stigma, preg-
nancy, marriage, schizophrenia.
Schizophrenia Bulletin, 30(4):763-765, 2004.
763
Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/schizophreniabulletin/article/30/4/763/1931034 by Emory University user on 19 July 2021
Motherhood and schizophrenia are being talked about
today in mental health circles, but not yet in the general
population, except for the stereotypes of the mentally ill. I
wish to discuss schizophrenia and motherhood. I was
diagnosed with schizophrenia a few years prior to becom-
ing pregnant. Back then, it was not known as an ongoing
illness, but rather as episodes or "nervous breakdowns"
because of stresses. I will start my story by giving a pre-
lude to my becoming a mother. I had always wanted to
experience motherhood, considering it a most important
part of life. When I thought of marriage, part of it was to
fulfill my dream of being a mother. I married, and 2 years
later I became pregnant with my first child. I was very
nervous during this pregnancy. While I was aware of the
miracle of a child growing inside me, I was still nervous. I
changed my insecure thinking with secure thinking—that
I was bringing into the world a life, a beautiful, little life.
When my child was born, my nervousness was replaced
by a fierce love, a fierce protection of this tiny, helpless
being. My love of my child replaced my thinking about
my illness. My time was taken up with my homemaking
and my child. I started having insecure thoughts that I
would not be able to care for the baby properly, that the
baby would get sick. After all, I thought, I had the illness
of schizophrenia. I worked myself into somewhat of a
frenzy. Whenever the baby cried, I ran to see how she
was. The first time the baby got sick, I was terrified. The
baby didn't die of course; in fact, she thrived, and I started
to relax more with her and enjoy her.
This bond of mother and child replaced my ache of
having to take medication, of dealing with a deadly ill-
ness. I knew what I had to do to stay in the community
and did what was needed, but my attention was focused
on my child. I chose to closet my illness, so my child
would not feel stigmatized. I never talked of my illness to
anyone except my immediate family and my psychiatrist.
Send reprint requests to Ms. Valerie Fox, P.O. Box 87, Morristown,
NJ 07963-0087.
Schizophrenia Bulletin, Vol. 30, No. 4, 2004
I became isolated regarding my illness; but I knew the
stigma well and knew if my illness were known, neither I
nor my child would be treated "normally" any longer. I
was part of coffee klatches, shopping excursions, and
lunches out with my friends and our children. It was fun,
but I had an ache deep inside me—I wanted to be liked
for who I was, someone having an illness, but I was afraid
to reveal my illness to even my closest friends.
At home I created a nurturing, loving environment
for my child. A loving home. I then became pregnant a
second time. This time I was not nervous; instead, my
nervousness was replaced by calm. I loved to feel the
growth of my child inside me. When my baby was born,
she was a very good sleeper. She would only awake when
she was hungry. My outings with my friends and my chil-
dren continued. My marriage was the strongest it was
going to be during this time. I don't think I was capable of
thinking of anything that would hurt my children's secu-
rity.
As life settled down and my first child started school
and my second child started nursery school, I did allow
myself to think of my marriage and an alternative to
remaining married, because I wasn't happy. I had grown
up during the era when women did not consider happiness
a choice. When there were children, the woman usually
stayed married, but my mother hadn't. She felt she had
made a mistake and left her marriage and became a single
parent. Slowly, I started separating myself from my hus-
band. Eventually, I left the marriage, taking our children
with me. All remained well for a number of years. I say
"well," but never be fooled into thinking single parenting
while dealing with schizophrenia is easy. It is extremely
difficult, but I did it. I think my upbringing with my
mother as a single parent was my education, my training
for the hardships that were part of this; but I also knew the
rewards of peace of mind and unconditional love of chil-
dren. I knew kindnesses from friends (who still did not
know I suffered from schizophrenia). Life was hard, but it
was very good. The only lack we suffered was having too
little money; but still I managed. My children had decent
clothes, good food, and entertainment in their lives, along
with the teaching of good values. I never thought to be
proud of myself for the job I was doing while dealing
with schizophrenia, and I never reached out to others for
support. I knew no other way to live. Today for parents
suffering with mental illness, it is different. There are sup-
ports—good supports.
Aside from the one area deep inside me, the isolation
of my illness, I enjoyed many nice things. Looking back
today, I don't think there was anything I could have done
differently. If people knew, even friends, they would have
ended our friendships. I saw that happen when I was sin-
gle and first diagnosed. I had a number of friends who one
by one left when this "thing," my illness, did not go away.
764
V. Fox
It would have been awful for my children to experience
that and therefore for me too.
After a number of years of single parenting, the
unthinkable happened. I became ill—unbeknown to me.
The life I was living was gone. My children went with
their father. (Thankfully, they had a secure environment to
go to.) I became homeless and mentally ill. I don't want to
dwell on that period except what is relevant to mothering.
Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/schizophreniabulletin/article/30/4/763/1931034 by Emory University user on 19 July 2021
During my illness, while I was completely delusional and
hallucinatory, my children were still my concern. In my
delusions and hallucinations, my children talked to me,
they loved me, and they understood why I was not with
them. On occasion, during times of mental clarity, I did
attempt to visit my children at their father's, but I never
was able to see the children. I still did not know I was ill.
This episode of schizophrenia lasted for a couple of years.
And then I sought treatment.
When I was well enough to think clearly, I contacted
my children, who responded very lovingly to me. My
healing was imminent then. Schizophrenia had interrupted
our lives together. What was to come was probably
inevitable, but still very painful. Instead of treating me as
they always had, I was looked at curiously; yet I always
knew that love was present. I have never doubted that
since I have gotten better. But my judgment was ques-
tioned; I did not have the unconditional respect that I had
before I became ill. It took me over a year of trying to
recapture the relationship that I had had with my children
before I realized I was not going to have the same one. It
was over. When I realized that, the relationship moved
forward because I was not expecting my children to give
me what they couldn't. I eventually allowed our visits to
go wherever the children wanted them to go. I tried to be
very giving to them, but I also set limits. I did not want to
know the pain of living my life without my children. I
was never going to stop trying to have a relationship with
them. To survive schizophrenia and motherhood, I made
decisions that governed my life and still do. I would
always leave communication open with my children. If
we had an argument, I would be the first one to call; I
needed to have access to my children. I had a mother's
love, and I needed my children in my life. I did set limits,
however. I remember one time both children were up for a
visit. Because I thought they were being disrespectful, I
ended the visit. I had never done that before nor have I
done it since. I was terrified, but it was needed for my
self-respect; and both children called me to say they were
sorry. I was so happy I cried.
I should mention that I never intended to hide my ill-
ness from my children. I did intend to tell them, but not
until they were adults. I wanted them to know a normal
childhood.
Each child (they are now adults) has responded dif-
ferently to knowing I deal with schizophrenia. One child,
Schizophrenia and Motherhood
who was older when I became ill, has kept me more in her
life; wherever she is, she faithfully calls me and invites
me to her home for visits, introduces me to her friends,
and is supportive of me. This was not easily come by.
When she was in college and on her own, she opened up
to me. She confided to me how hard it was for her when I
got sick. I listened, and the pain was unbearable for me at
times because I knew I was the cause of my child's hurts.
Each time I visited her, we talked of that time. I felt I had
failed her. Finally, after 3 years of going back to the time
of my homelessness, I did not allow it anymore. I told my
child, "We have discussed everything and should move to
the present to build our lives together today." My child
respected that decision. Guilt, I felt; but I also had the
knowledge that I had been ill. If I had not been ill, I
would not have been separated from my children. Today, I
think we have a good mother-daughter relationship. I lis-
ten to what other mothers deal with in their relationships
with their daughters, and I gauge my relationship. I feel it
is a typical relationship. It took a lot of hard work, many
tears, and the willingness on my part to accept that
through me my children's lives were disrupted. A sour pill
to swallow. But again, I know I was ill, and that gives me
a feeling of peace.
My other child reacted differently to my becoming
ill and regaining my health. She was the younger child.
When she went to live with her father, he had remarried,
so there was another woman in my place. My daughter
needed a mother, and this woman filled that need. For
many years after regaining my health, my daughter
would see me and would visit with me, but we had no
deep communication. In fact, she would not talk of our
separation. If I tried to broach the subject, she would stop
further discussion. My hands were tied. I felt that if we
could talk about her hurts as with my other child, it
would help; but she had to be ready, and she wasn't.
Eventually, I just accepted what she offered and, in turn,
765
Schizophrenia Bulletin, Vol. 30, No. 4, 2004
always kept communication open. Just in the past year or
two, she has opened up to me so at least some of what
she felt is being talked about. Even when deep communi-
cation was not present, I had hope because she always
kept in contact with me. One Christmas, she gave me a
crystal angel with two candle holders as arms. It made
me cry because during homelessness when I did speak
with my children on the phone (very rarely), I would say
Downloaded from https://academic.oup.com/schizophreniabulletin/article/30/4/763/1931034 by Emory University user on 19 July 2021
to them, "You are with the angels. They are with you
while I can't be, protecting you." I told her that that is
what her gift meant to me. She didn't answer, and I didn't
press her about whether that is what she intended, but I
believed it was. Recently, we went out for a ride together,
just she and I—another first since I have gotten better. It
was fine. And, having dinner with her and her boyfriend
was also nice. A short time ago we talked on the phone
for over an hour—another first. I can tell when I speak
with her that she feels love for me. My children and I
each reacted differently to tragedy, and I have come to
understand this well. My daughters and I have each sur-
vived it in our own way.
If diagnosed with schizophrenia today, would I have
children? Today, the scientific, chemical side of schizo-
phrenia is known. I know even with our tragedy I am not
sorry I had children, and I do know my priority remains to
care for myself, to keep myself mentally healthy, so I can
be my daughters' healthy mother with this my second
chance. The fierce love I knew when they were little is
still alive. I hope I never have to experience life without
my children again. So, for me, the choice to have children
while dealing with schizophrenia was right. I think it is
rare for anyone to go through life without some sadness,
some tragedy. I am very sorry I became ill, but we came
through it and have salvaged our love. I can't help think
of how many people there are who do not live with cata-
strophic illnesses and yet who don't salvage love. I think
there are many.