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Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
26 September 2014 @ 10:01 am

Lydia Ophelia Eleanor Williams was born at 8:15pm on Monday 25th August, 3.8kgs & 50.5cm long.

She's one month old now.

She's incredible - the whole experience is incredible. And hard - it's really hard fucking work. I want to write EVERYTHING down but it's SO difficult to find the time and the hands. I spend a lot of time staring at her in awe and marveling. I don't want to forget anything about this, about her - it's absolutely breathtaking.
Breathe out: happyhappy
Breathe in: Bush - Jesus Online
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
I'm 28 weeks along now - I assume we all knew that when I said "I'll keep this updated" three months ago it was pretty much bullshit.

If I thought pregnancy was weird at 13 weeks, it's nothing compared to pregnancy now. I have a pronounced bump - I have trouble seeing it, but people offer me a seat on the bus now - and the noob kicks away at all kinds of hours, which is very reassuring. Of all the benefits of pregnancy (foot rubs on demand, people bring you tea, you get to sit down all the time etc) I think I'll miss the kicking the most.

Bump is a girl bump! I'm not sure if it matters, but I'm pleased nonetheless; Hamish REALLY wanted us to have a girl and now wants us to call her Alice (we're not) and Kieran can wave to the bump and say "Hello baby! Baby sister!" which is unspeakably adorable. Names are still being debated.

I feel.. good. Really well, actually - coping excellently mentally sans medication and physically okay, although I have a mildish case of SPD. I'm getting to the point where I can't bend too much, I bump in to things a lot and I really don't remember what my feet look like, but I don't mind. Without being too ridiculous about it, I'm content and life is glorious.
Breathe out: knocked up
Breathe in: The Smith Street Band - Ducks Fly Together
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
Hey Jess, why have you:
* Stopped drinking coffee?
* Stopped coming out to eat?
* Stopped drinking?
* Started sleeping all the time?
* Been really vague and nonsensical?

A photographic essay:

The Noob

A few answers to inevitable questions:
* I'm nearly 13 weeks
* The scans are all really positive
* I'm starting to feel better
* aeduna has been a total superstar (best babydaddy ever)
* Liz has been totally supportive and awesome
* Yes we're all still living together, everyone in the situation is happy and healthy and not being inducted into a weird poly cult (unless Tim has nefarious plans)
* The boys know they're getting a sibling and are pretty stoked - no, we're not going into the whole 'half sibling' thing with them
* Hamish will be turning 6 just after the noob arrives, Kieran will be 2.5
* Yes it was planned, you asshole
* I'm due mid-August
* I'll try and keep this updated as I go along
* I am really, really happy :)
Breathe out: excitedexcited
Breathe in: Blue October - Congratulations
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
Every time I think about posting to livejournal I think "I have to catch up on the last X years" and the larger X becomes the more intimidating it is.

Here's a brief overview of the last several years:
Went from living on my own to sharehousing a lot (noteable mentions include bloodied_angel7, rhyannonf, cheshire_bitten, muizarts and anodynos as Housemates Willing To Put Up With My Shit).

Casually dating aeduna (amongst others, at various times, to very little drama and fanfare - being grownup is best) turned into something considerably more serious and now, almost 6 years in, I live with him - and Liz and their progeny (Hamish, who is 5, and Kieran, who is nearly 2) plus bjj_moves. I don't know how I ended up in a long term poly thing that involves kids and pets and commitment, but actually it's pretty much the awesomest thing ever.

Still working for Big University, but most of the stress in my life in the last few years has been work related - badly done centralization, constant management turnover, massive redundancies, getting moved to a different office way further from home to do a job I was in no way qualified for with a boss who blatantly had a problem with the genitalia I possess. It all came crashing down at the end of last year and then totally turned around right at the last minute - offered a new position that I love, doing work that I enjoy and am good at, with people I really like. I'm sitting at my fancy window desk in my 9th floor office feeling smug right now.

My mental health has been really up and down the last couple of years - I've been at my best and worst at various points. I got a Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis a few years ago and struggled with it, but therapy and medication and growing up have taught me that I need to work with my illness instead of fighting it all the time in order to get anywhere. I am trying to forgive more easily (myself and others). I still have my bad days, but I definitely have more good now.

Life is good. Really good, in fact. It can be boring and exciting and tiring and domestic and tedious and hard and fun and I'm still crazy and I'm still figuring out who I am. But.. I am happy.
Breathe out: contentcontent
Breathe in: The Mountain Goats - Damn These Vampires
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
Epilim (depakote), avanza (remeron), xanax, rivotril (klonopin), stilnox (ambien).

I feel flat. Flat like a pancake, flat like a cartoon character. The med cocktail makes me tired, so tired, all the time, tired to the bone, like having the flu. I can't go out - I'm effectively housebound because I can't do anything but sleep constantly. I feel like I am getting smaller every day which would be quite a feat given the amount of sugar I am putting into my body on a daily basis. I feel so far removed from everything. I'm aware of my emotions - anger, mostly, white hot like a flame in my stomach, and desperate loneliness that makes my heart beat like a drum - but I don't feel attached to them, I feel like they are happening to somebody else. I cry a lot. I drift away. I can't see the horizon from here.

I wonder if it's possible to get so sad you just disappear.
Breathe out: tiredtired
Breathe in: Boys Night Out - Dreaming
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
I have yet to come up with a suitable metaphor for borderline personality disorder, but it's a bit like this: you're stuck on a rollercoaster in the dark and you can't get off. Sometimes it's alright, smooth sailing even, but even when things seem calm there's still that knot of tension preparing for the next big thing. Anything can set it off, anything at all - a sideways glance from a stranger, a careless word from a friend, something on the news or in a song, a painful train of thought. And then you're hurtling screaming up into the stratosphere of hysteria or dropping helplessly into the depths of depression. Your logical brain knows that it has to end, that the climb and the dive cannot go on forever, but when you're caught up in those stomach dropping moments (and they last from minutes to months) you can't think logic - you can only grip tight and try to keep the air moving through your lungs and hope that this isn't the time you go careening right off the rails. Even in the flat bits you can never really relax, never let your guard down, never let go of the fear and panic and anxiety because around the next corner could hold something that tears you apart. Everything feels like the end of the world, all the time.

I'm so sick of the medication, trying to get it right with the drugs that keep me from being totally psychotic that could also send me totally psychotic. The nausea, the weight gain, the brain zaps and dizzy spells and mood swings, the dangerous fevers and tremors. I'm tired of being sick, I'm tired all the time. I hate that I feel like I am made of stone sometimes, an impenetrable fortress that feels no blows and sheds no light, and yet I am so fragile that I could shatter with a harsh word or a light touch. I don't know anyone else like this and I don't understand why it has to be this way but 10 years of medication and therapy and I'm still stuck there in the dark on the endless rollercoaster of my own emotions.

I am a broken record. Just shut up and get better already!
Breathe out: confusedconfused
Breathe in: Against Me! - You Look Like I Need A Drink
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
I feel, sometimes, that I am doomed to fade into obscurity, and that frightens me. I'm not so big on attention and thus am relegated to the role as the Best Friend, the sidekick, the mother figure, the bit on the side. Honestly I don't mind so much but I wonder that when I die anyone will remember me, and what for? If I were prettier, smarter, more charming, less crazy then perhaps I would be.. more. Better. It's pointless to wish that I could change what already is, or who I am.

Merry christmas, I guess.
Breathe out: blank
Breathe in: Modest Mouse - Ocean Breathes Salty
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
The last 2 months have been so amazingly, aggressively awful that I am not sure where to start. A slow slip-slide back into depression and agrophobia and feeling like I'm so crazy I might actually crawl out of my own skin, my baby sister screaming and crying on the other end of a phone while I debate having her put into a psych ward and later saying goodbye at the airport because I am too weak to care for the only person who loves me unconditionally (I miss her so much), a very frightening health scare for someone I care deeply about, a friend who drove from our house to a bottle of sleeping pills and isn't coming back, having my heart ripped out (oh, little miss drama!).

I'm supposed to have a medication review later this week. What am I supposed to say? "Numb me up, doc, everything hurts too much and I can't breathe." I think I've given up. I'm done.
Breathe out: sadsad
Breathe in: Motion City Soundtrack - Hysteria
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
I find myself taking a sick pleasure in being hurt/disappointed because it means that I was right all along.
Breathe out: tiredtired
Breathe in: The Mountain Goats - No Children
Her lips taste like a loaded gun.
Comfortable, safe, content vs. exciting, passionate, dramatic.

Breathe out: restlessrestless
Breathe in: Cursive - Driftwood: A Fairy Tale