We are a family of three: Fat Man, Little Boy, and myself. Fat Man and I have been together for three years now. Our child, Little Boy, is currently 12 weeks old.
It's been a really rough three years, but things seem to be getting better and better by the day. Fat Man and I have had a ton of relationship problems and live separately, but close to each other, while we work on both our relationship and ourselves. He's a fabulous father, even though he sometimes gets a little overwhelmed with the prospect of a screaming baby.
I found out I was pregnant with Little Boy just after we separated briefly on Friday the 13th- very unexpected since I was supposed to be infertile. I've been bouncing from place to place since, getting screwed over pretty well, but now things seem to be settling. Little Boy is a beautiful, wonderful kid- rarely really cries, lots of smiles, ahead of his body's abilities (he wants to crawl and talk badly). He currently is a cracklebox as he has RSV and Pnuemonia, but is getting over it very well.
This blog will probably end up having lots of squeefests about Little Boy, but will hopefully serve insight into mental illness- I am diagnosed Bipolar and have chronic GAD and PTSD, relationship difficulties, and various family concerns.
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