When I was newly pregnant, I did everything I could to take care of myself, but I ultimately ended up on bedrest. Those hours, days, and weeks were hard, and what made everything harder was that my mother was undergoing treatment for breast cancer. Her oncologist suggested that she participate in a study, and her treatment was aggressive.

I struggled with anxiety and depression over  my situation; each appointment, my doctors would say, "You're doing great! If you can make it to 24 weeks (or 28 or 32) baby might have a chance." While I was glad to do well, I was also anxious about whether or not I would be able to hold onto my baby. My mother's illness compounded my stress; she would call me, wailing about the shots she was about to get or just had, talking about how she wanted to die, and wondering why God was keeping her alive. To add more stress to an already stressful time, my best friend would call me each day, complaining about everyting. I eventually dreaded the ringing of the phone because it was either my mother or my friend. My husband was seldom around because of work, and my inlaws were less than supportive during this time.

My son was born healthy and normal. I was proud of myself for carrying him to term, and I was proud of him because he was so beautiful. But over the past few years, he's begun to develop some personality traits that make me think I didn't do as good of a job as I thought I did.

I think my son is depressed; he makes comments about how no one likes him and he has no friends. He's been doing this since he was about five. He considers himself fat, and he dislikes his body. What really worries me is that I might have passed my depression and anxiety during pregnancy onto him. My mother kept warning me to have a good attitude or else he would be affected in utero by my mental state. I tried hard to enjoy as much of my pregnancy as possible and to be happy, but now I wonder about him. His school counselor asked if my pregnancy had been traumatic, which it had, and now I fear I may have negatively impacted his mental development.

While depression runs in my family and in my husband's family, I know I have to watch for signs in my son. I'm growing increasingly concerned about his mental state, and I am considering taking him to a counselor to help him.

I feel that I have failed my son, and yet my intentions were good. Something feels off to me about him, and I can't decide if it's my own paranoia or if it's real.