Bipolar with babies

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at school in the sixth form after suffering difficulties when my parents separated. My parents are now back together. To say that the time was challenging was a bit of an understatement, but I scraped through my A-levels and got a place at the University of Leicester to study Law with French Law and Language with a year in Lyon studying for a French law diploma.

I never viewed my condition as a disability - rather as a small illness allowing me to recognise my limitations while still living a happy and full life. With an IQ of 163 and a training contract with a top ten US law firm, I certainly did not let bipolar hold me back.

At the back of my mind I always knew I would need to be careful with pregnancy - a consultant did warn me that this would be a true test of how severe my condition actually was. Due to the huge amount of support from an amazingly understanding husband, parents and siblings, in-laws, close friends and superb guidance from the Havering perinatal service, we have two beautiful daughters, and we are doing well.

It doesn't mean I don't have bad days. A poor night's sleep can rapidly change an everyday situation into a scene of desperation. Baskets of washing piling up with no respite, challenging discussions with the toddler in the supermarket while the baby is kicking off, with a leaking nappy and a top covered in sick. Some of the vomit has been transferred to your shoulder, but you only realise too late that you have been walking around with a "designer stain" for most of the day. In a typically British self-deprecating fashion, I lament about how I haven't really done very much in a day, despite having gotten up, showered, dressed, dressed the two girls, fed them, done teeth, finished homework, put on a wash, prepared hubby's office coffee, fed myself, straightened up the living room, tidied away some toys, opened the morning post, put the junk into recycling... all before 9am.

A combination of the legal training, the Chinese background and the British stiff upper lip prevent me from sharing my woes on Facebook. I did start trying to share some of my moans, but was put off by the small number of likes this attracted and decided that this was probably not want my friends wanted to hear, no matter how cathartic I found it. Instead I post cute pictures of the girls, and big smiles. But as a good friend once said, on Facebook we tell lies to our friends, and on Twitter we tell the truth to strangers. Although some of this rings true, the reality is that I am the same person to all I meet. I once took an in-depth personality analysis test at work. The results were startling. The two graphs comparing my behaviour at home and at the office were close on identical. The analyst said she had never seen anything like it.

If I were to offer any advice to other mums who might be going through tough times, I would just keep it simple by saying that rest is key. If you look after yourself you can look after others so much better. You can only do your best. And even when you don't feel your best, the fact that you worry about that is proof enough that you are doing great. Everyone has their opinion on how best to do something, and we come from all walks of life with different backgrounds, cultures and experiences. We must always do what works best for us. We might make mistakes and fall down. But we sure as hell get back up again, and try and try again. Because we can. Because we care. Just because.

And we are awesome. So just tell yourself that. Every day. Because that awesome carries across to the little ones too. Because awesome breeds awesome.