Love Me, Love My Kid: Stepfamilies and Mentally Ill Children (Part 1 of 2)

Dating as a single mother--tough. Dating as a single mother of a child who never sits still, throws outrageous tantrums, gets kicked out of preschools and gives you black eyes--tough to the point you might want to consider adopting several cats and joining the spinsterhood. Once in a while, though, life throws you a curve ball, and you might just meet Mr. Fantastic--that's when the real work begins.

Mentally Ill Children Can Push a Marriage to the Limit

My husband and I have been married five years this January. Certainly not a "golden" anniversary, but given what we've endured together during those five years, we at least deserve Congressional Medals of Honor.

Ask any parent--children take a toll on even the best relationships, especially if a child has a chronic illness or condition. When one spouse is not that child's biological parent, things can get even trickier. If Peter had suffered ADHD or Jan had been bulimic, the Brady Bunch may not have seen a second season.

I like to think our marriage is one of the good ones. That's not to say it's always starshine and flowers. We definitely argue, generally about one of two things: money, and the kids. Having a mentally ill child creates material for both--the money arguments are obvious, what with the extra expenses of therapy, psychiatric appointments, medication, even special schooling or childcare arrangements.

Arguments about children are common for married couples, particularly when there are children from a previous relationship. Parents of mentally ill children, however, are often especially sensitive to criticism, both real and perceived, which can lead to substantial marital tension.

Defensive About My Bipolar Child

I met my husband at an early point in Bob's journey. At 3, he had yet to be given an accurate diagnosis or an effective treatment. I spent considerable time defending him to preschool teachers, other parents, and psychiatric nurse practitioners. I spent equal time defending my parenting to Bob's father, preschool teachers, other parents, and myriad of complete strangers. By the time I arrived home most days, I had been fighting all day, and it was hard to turn it off. My husband could make the most innocent comment, and I would take it as a critique of Bob and, therefore, of my ability to raise children. I had convinced myself I was Bob's only ally--it was Me and Him against The World.

The birth of Bob's younger brother only added to my insecurity. I now worried Bob would fall entirely out of favor with his stepfather, being the "stepson" with problems and not the "real" son (who was, of course, an absolute joy from the beginning). I became hypersensitive, ready to pounce on the tiniest slight.

My fears, of course, are unwarranted. My husband may not be Bob's biological father, but he has always treated him like one of his own. I've relaxed a little over the past year or so, but still occasionally have to be reminded - "I'm on your side."

**To be Continued in Part 2**