In September, one day before my daughter was born, I turned 34 years old.

For a long time I’d questioned whether or not having children would be a wise choice for me. What kind of mother would I be? What would I do on the days when I was unable to convince myself that everything was going to be ok? Would I suffer from postpartum depression as well and if so how would I survive it? What would I do when my child needed me and I couldn’t even manage brushing my own teeth?

My worst fear of all was the possibility that I might pass this disease on to my child. On my birthday I always reflect on the fact that I have survived another year, that my depression did not beat me. I applaud the fact that I bobbed and weaved my way through the tears, the mental anguish, and the fear. I cradled myself on those days when my insides were screaming. I got through it.

The prospect of passing depression on to another human being was always more than I cared to deal with.

Then a very wonderful and surprising thing happened. I got pregnant.

After Maggie was born my thinking changed a bit. I started looking at my life again, specifically at my past, but in a different light. I can’t say with any certainty whether my depression is something I was born with or something that was sort of given to me by some very angry and lost individuals throughout my life. What I do know for sure is that I am a much more emotionally evolved human than those folks, and that my child’s life will be one of relative peace.

Still, she may inherit depression from me.

Some of my fear about it is selfish. It’s so easy for me to be angry at the people who hurt me, especially when my illness is kicking my ass. What will she do during those times? I wonder if she will hate me for bringing her into the world with the knowledge that she might have to live with depression. I’m not sure that all of the medication and therapy visits in the world could ever make up for that.

I’ve asked myself what I will do if Maggie does get sick. I’ve come up with some answers. I will always listen. I will always be there to remind her that everything is going to be ok. I will never shame or ridicule her for her feelings or her need to just be left alone. I will see that she has the best medical care available. I will teach her to keep putting one foot in front of the other, to not get mired in self-pity or despair. I will be there when she is confused and lost and angry. Even when she is angry with me.

Most importantly I will treat my own illness. I will try to lead by example. I will do for her what was not done for me. I will do my very best to make sure that when she looks back on her life, the good times out number the bad.