How many month-a-versaries has it been? Life grabs you by the lapels sometimes and just won't. quit. shaking. Until your teeth are rattling out of your skull and you think you can't take any more and then, slowly and ever, ever so softly you come to a rest in a field. And all is calm, and quiet... and you think.. nope, I cannot trust it.
That's exactly where I am right now.
Sitting in the middle of a field. Bruised and battered. Safe. And I do not trust it. Not in the slightest. Because for every up there is a down.
For every "I respect you and the work that you do" is a "we don't need you anymore". For every bill paid on time is another half dozen past due. For every, "let's pay off our friends and family" there's a "can we make the office into a bedroom?" And for every office made into a bedroom, there's someone who'd rather be homeless and high than safe and sober. For every olive branch extended is a second chance forgotten. For every projector screen, and blue tooth device, and HDMI switch, and window motor, there's a box full of clothing and broken glass. Life refuses to be perfect. To be neat, orderly, and tied in a bow. I suppose, if it was, where would we get our great stories from? Where's the adventure in normalcy? Where's the thrill in complacency?
So I sit, and pick the petals off of a daisy. I wait, for the storm clouds to rush in. I pray and I look to heaven on my scabbed and scarred knees and ask whatever God will listen to hear me. Hear me. hear me.
I like it here. I don't want to leave. I want to take my home, my family, and wrap it in a shiny bow. I'd gladly take a douse of normalcy and complacency for an ounce of security and if that makes me square... So be it. As you can see these wounds take time to heal. But if you have patience for my wrecked caterpillar of a body, I can guarantee you're in for one kick ass butterfly.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
4 years / 7 months
March 22nd, 2009 -- I don't know that I could have envisioned my life as it is now. A seven month old son with the world in front of him, a four year relationship with his father. That a relationship which my initial intentions were for a casual fling, has turned into the love of my lifetime... well, it's pretty darn surprising to that me four years ago. To me now though, I wouldn't imagine it any other way. Who else would I wake up every morning to, who I'd yell at for staying up all night, not being a good father, and blowing money on car parts? I can't imagine it being any one else. I can't imagine anyone else to share my life with, to have this family with, to dream about the future with. We're flawed beings but we're flawed together, and somehow it makes it okay.
Things are finally starting to look up for us. We've both got jobs making okay money, enough to live on for once, and John's at a place that I think actually recognizes his talents. I'm still a temp, but I'm okay with that, because I'm looking into starting a medical assisting program to get out of the cycle of dead end nothing jobs. It's not a huge jump in pay, but an extra $9k a year would be nice for sure. The degree will essentially pay for itself within my first year of employment, and that's always a good thing. Admissions aren't the easiest process, I'll have to call up some former employers and get them to write letters of recommendation for me, but I think it'll be worth it. It's one of those things you just have to do.
I've started the couch to 5k plan, and so far so good. My biggest obstacle is that I either have Chuck Taylors or Nike's that are a size too big for footwear. I found an amazing deal on some minimalist running shoes on nomorerack.com so that issue will be resolved soon and hopefully I'll be able to pick up some speed. I also need to look into a sports bra that won't try and pop over the top of me while I'm moving...and pretty much all the clothing I'm wearing isn't exactly great for running, but I'm taking it one step at a time and shoes were definitely the priority item.
I'm trying so hard to get my life together. For my family's future, for my own state of mind. I hope that I am able to keep going strong and accomplish my goals. Baby steps might be the way I need to do things but I'm determined to get there. When Oliver's at the age where someone asks him what his parents do, I want him to be able to say his dad's in IT and his mom helps people be healthy. That or they don't do anything because they won the lottery.... but, you know, realism. I also want to be strong and healthy for him and set a good example for eating and exercising habits. I'm doing the Slimfast thing right now until I get closer to my ideal weight, and it's definitely working, though my shape is still leaving much to be desired. Hence adding in the running. Once I'm used to that routine I'm thinking adding in strength training would be good too. Oliver's well on his way to 20 pounds and getting harder to lift these days. After I get the weight under control then I'll feel more comfortable switching back to eating a more normal diet. Though I think keeping in mind the Slimfast 3 meals 3 snacks, and moderation is definitely something I can stick with. I like not ever really being starving, even though I'm eating less calories.
So, there's an update! We're at a turning point for the better I think, and I hope and pray that this one, unlike all the rest, we can maintain.
Things are finally starting to look up for us. We've both got jobs making okay money, enough to live on for once, and John's at a place that I think actually recognizes his talents. I'm still a temp, but I'm okay with that, because I'm looking into starting a medical assisting program to get out of the cycle of dead end nothing jobs. It's not a huge jump in pay, but an extra $9k a year would be nice for sure. The degree will essentially pay for itself within my first year of employment, and that's always a good thing. Admissions aren't the easiest process, I'll have to call up some former employers and get them to write letters of recommendation for me, but I think it'll be worth it. It's one of those things you just have to do.
I've started the couch to 5k plan, and so far so good. My biggest obstacle is that I either have Chuck Taylors or Nike's that are a size too big for footwear. I found an amazing deal on some minimalist running shoes on nomorerack.com so that issue will be resolved soon and hopefully I'll be able to pick up some speed. I also need to look into a sports bra that won't try and pop over the top of me while I'm moving...and pretty much all the clothing I'm wearing isn't exactly great for running, but I'm taking it one step at a time and shoes were definitely the priority item.
I'm trying so hard to get my life together. For my family's future, for my own state of mind. I hope that I am able to keep going strong and accomplish my goals. Baby steps might be the way I need to do things but I'm determined to get there. When Oliver's at the age where someone asks him what his parents do, I want him to be able to say his dad's in IT and his mom helps people be healthy. That or they don't do anything because they won the lottery.... but, you know, realism. I also want to be strong and healthy for him and set a good example for eating and exercising habits. I'm doing the Slimfast thing right now until I get closer to my ideal weight, and it's definitely working, though my shape is still leaving much to be desired. Hence adding in the running. Once I'm used to that routine I'm thinking adding in strength training would be good too. Oliver's well on his way to 20 pounds and getting harder to lift these days. After I get the weight under control then I'll feel more comfortable switching back to eating a more normal diet. Though I think keeping in mind the Slimfast 3 meals 3 snacks, and moderation is definitely something I can stick with. I like not ever really being starving, even though I'm eating less calories.
So, there's an update! We're at a turning point for the better I think, and I hope and pray that this one, unlike all the rest, we can maintain.
Monday, November 19, 2012
I work so hard to make my dreams come true but it seems one step forward two steps back is the name of my tune.
How I imagined my twenty-fourth birthday?
Well, I'd be sitting on my front porch in a comfy chair, and all my friends and family would surround me there. I'd be sippin on an apple martini with my two beautiful children sitting next to me. Maybe the youngest one in dad's arms as she lacked the motor skills to do it her own. I look out at the world there in front of me, taking in and enjoying all that I could see. A neighbor walks by says how do you do and I know them enough to wave and smile in return. I've got two cars in the drive way that run and drive, no issues in their motors, stickers just fine. I'd be polished and tight everything in line, hair done up not a flyaway in sight. My gorgeous husband would come over to me, whisper I'm the greatest thing he's ever seen. We'd sneak away to talk when the party lulled, muse on how our life had unfurled. Not some Greek tragedy all covered in knots, but comfort and warmth, and worrying for not. Bills are paid, and college funds made, and we've got enough stashed for a year of rainy days. Christmas plans are made for the south coast, simple sure, but we're not ones to boast. Happy and healthy and not a collection agency in site, as we tuck the kids in and whisper good night. Make love like we were newly discovered, hold each other hours after we're done. Wake up and ready myself, kiss the husband good bye, take the kids to the park.
How simple I thought life would be, when these fantasies came to me. So young, so naive, so sure of myself - before everything started plummeting south.
I don't know why I hold on to these ghosts, these never could have beens. It's the light at the end, it's the hope that unfurls, it's what keeps me afloat I suppose...
How I imagined my twenty-fourth birthday?
Well, I'd be sitting on my front porch in a comfy chair, and all my friends and family would surround me there. I'd be sippin on an apple martini with my two beautiful children sitting next to me. Maybe the youngest one in dad's arms as she lacked the motor skills to do it her own. I look out at the world there in front of me, taking in and enjoying all that I could see. A neighbor walks by says how do you do and I know them enough to wave and smile in return. I've got two cars in the drive way that run and drive, no issues in their motors, stickers just fine. I'd be polished and tight everything in line, hair done up not a flyaway in sight. My gorgeous husband would come over to me, whisper I'm the greatest thing he's ever seen. We'd sneak away to talk when the party lulled, muse on how our life had unfurled. Not some Greek tragedy all covered in knots, but comfort and warmth, and worrying for not. Bills are paid, and college funds made, and we've got enough stashed for a year of rainy days. Christmas plans are made for the south coast, simple sure, but we're not ones to boast. Happy and healthy and not a collection agency in site, as we tuck the kids in and whisper good night. Make love like we were newly discovered, hold each other hours after we're done. Wake up and ready myself, kiss the husband good bye, take the kids to the park.
How simple I thought life would be, when these fantasies came to me. So young, so naive, so sure of myself - before everything started plummeting south.
I don't know why I hold on to these ghosts, these never could have beens. It's the light at the end, it's the hope that unfurls, it's what keeps me afloat I suppose...
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
- Emily Dickinson
Friday, October 26, 2012
Not scared, just not human
It's so hard to explain to people why John isn't being normal with Oliver. How do you tell someone "He's doing okay, considering he's not human." without sounding like a complete and utter nut job? Yes, he's scared...at least, I think he's something that would roughly translate to us as scared.Yes, that Oliver's frail and weak and he doesn't want to hurt him. But also because he's against humans. He doesn't like them (us?), their mucusy fragile existence. Everything he has an aversion to in normal humanity is amplified a hundred fold in babies. He won't eat or drink after you, and he doesn't want you to eat or drink after him -- and this translates into complete avoidance with Oliver. He has this 100 point allocation thing where he can only focus and be okay with one human at a time and that's me. So he can eat and drink and be around my human-ness and be okay - once his body adapted to mine and stopped breaking out when I touched him. "I don't like humans, but I like my tan."
Rereading that paragraph... it sounds crazy. It is crazy. In the most normal of terms I can think of, he's a germaphobe. But it's not a fear of germs that gets him. If you had to categorize it into normal, understandable, and socially semi-acceptable terms -- that's what you'd use. A closer, though mad, definition would be that he's a Vulcan, or a cyborg with an only semi-functional emotional interface.
Not that this is an excuse by any means, as we all have issues within our personalities that we have to overcome to live a normal life. To be accepted by society requires sacrifices in these personalities, to be loved, to have thriving long term relationships. We have to put away those parts of ourselves that surface from our deep dark id. So must he get over all his hang ups and just do it. Just be a father, just be the man I need him to be. Otherwise, everything will come crumbling down.
I got John to hold Oliver last night. He covered himself in a blanket to avoid the irritation from Oliver's skin on his own and sat in bed so he was fully supported. The movement of Oliver's head as he looked around, being able to feel the different valleys of his yet fully formed skull was too much though. So I moved Oliver around so he was laying against his chest, and this seemed to be okay. He was able to put his hands on Oliver's swaddled self without freaking out too bad, as long as Oliver didn't wiggle too much.
John gets upset - at the doctors who tell him he'll get used to it, to not be afraid - at the people that tell him he'll become more sure of himself. He wants to tell them he's not afraid, not unsure of himself, not worried about hurting Oliver... just extremely uncomfortable with his very existence. The burning sensation on his skin that happens when he comes into contact with Oliver's bare skin, the overload of synapses. But again... not only is it nearly impossible to voice the feeling for him in general, the way he feels he doesn't think can be recognized. I think he's right.
While I left the decision of when to have kids up to John as I was game from day one, and this decision we entered knowing the outcome would obviously be an Oliver or female counterpart... I don't think that John thought of the consequences or what having a newborn would actually mean. That is, until I was pregnant and he voiced that he didn't know how to be a dad. He couldn't handle the bodily functions in other people's kids, couldn't hold them, they bugged him... It would be the same for his own he assured me. Yet how many times has a man said that, they don't like babies, they don't get them - only to turn out to be a great father from day one? There's something about that tiny little bundle of half of them that melts the coldest of male hearts. Human ones, anyway.
That's what expected him to be, normal..human. To overcome his hangups likely caused from the years of physical/emotional/sexual abuse and to be a father. To see his son for the first time and look into his eyes and know that he was his and to do everything he could to be the best father. When that didn't happen I figured that maybe it was the hospital -- John's dislike of humanity causes him to dislike hospitals even more than babies -- so maybe once we were home, he would warm up to the little one. Then I figured that maybe when Oliver's umbilical cord came off, when his circumcision healed that would be the key. Then maybe when Oliver could hold his own head up. . . Yet none of these milestones yielded any result. They didn't even yield any attempts at getting used to him, of trying. Eventually John started talking to him, looking at him. Then letting Oliver wrap his fingers around John's. He started playing with his feet, "My footie!". He was able to prepare a bottle of formula or heat up a bottle of breast milk. Still, he didn't like seeing or hearing Oliver feed - said he smelled disgusting..forget about feeding him himself, or holding or changing or getting up in the middle of the night. So all of these basic care things fall on to me. I am the single mother with a back up dancer.
I work full time, I parent full time, I have to be a mother, a wife, a search engine placement agent ... and none of these things seem to have the ability to overlap. So I'll vent, and I'll dwell on things, and I'll get upset and want to leave or I'll kick John out of our room and make him sleep on the couch. Some days I can deal, I understand that John is broken and not going to be fixed any time soon. Other days are much, much more difficult. John thinks he'll be okay by the time Oliver is old enough to communicate -- three or so. He believes that he and Oliver will be the best of buds once Oliver stops spitting up after every meal, once he's potty trained, once he's able to look at the world and voice his concerns however basic. So, I'm on my own until then...trying desperately to speed up the process, and hoping for the best.
Rereading that paragraph... it sounds crazy. It is crazy. In the most normal of terms I can think of, he's a germaphobe. But it's not a fear of germs that gets him. If you had to categorize it into normal, understandable, and socially semi-acceptable terms -- that's what you'd use. A closer, though mad, definition would be that he's a Vulcan, or a cyborg with an only semi-functional emotional interface.
Not that this is an excuse by any means, as we all have issues within our personalities that we have to overcome to live a normal life. To be accepted by society requires sacrifices in these personalities, to be loved, to have thriving long term relationships. We have to put away those parts of ourselves that surface from our deep dark id. So must he get over all his hang ups and just do it. Just be a father, just be the man I need him to be. Otherwise, everything will come crumbling down.
I got John to hold Oliver last night. He covered himself in a blanket to avoid the irritation from Oliver's skin on his own and sat in bed so he was fully supported. The movement of Oliver's head as he looked around, being able to feel the different valleys of his yet fully formed skull was too much though. So I moved Oliver around so he was laying against his chest, and this seemed to be okay. He was able to put his hands on Oliver's swaddled self without freaking out too bad, as long as Oliver didn't wiggle too much.
John gets upset - at the doctors who tell him he'll get used to it, to not be afraid - at the people that tell him he'll become more sure of himself. He wants to tell them he's not afraid, not unsure of himself, not worried about hurting Oliver... just extremely uncomfortable with his very existence. The burning sensation on his skin that happens when he comes into contact with Oliver's bare skin, the overload of synapses. But again... not only is it nearly impossible to voice the feeling for him in general, the way he feels he doesn't think can be recognized. I think he's right.
While I left the decision of when to have kids up to John as I was game from day one, and this decision we entered knowing the outcome would obviously be an Oliver or female counterpart... I don't think that John thought of the consequences or what having a newborn would actually mean. That is, until I was pregnant and he voiced that he didn't know how to be a dad. He couldn't handle the bodily functions in other people's kids, couldn't hold them, they bugged him... It would be the same for his own he assured me. Yet how many times has a man said that, they don't like babies, they don't get them - only to turn out to be a great father from day one? There's something about that tiny little bundle of half of them that melts the coldest of male hearts. Human ones, anyway.
That's what expected him to be, normal..human. To overcome his hangups likely caused from the years of physical/emotional/sexual abuse and to be a father. To see his son for the first time and look into his eyes and know that he was his and to do everything he could to be the best father. When that didn't happen I figured that maybe it was the hospital -- John's dislike of humanity causes him to dislike hospitals even more than babies -- so maybe once we were home, he would warm up to the little one. Then I figured that maybe when Oliver's umbilical cord came off, when his circumcision healed that would be the key. Then maybe when Oliver could hold his own head up. . . Yet none of these milestones yielded any result. They didn't even yield any attempts at getting used to him, of trying. Eventually John started talking to him, looking at him. Then letting Oliver wrap his fingers around John's. He started playing with his feet, "My footie!". He was able to prepare a bottle of formula or heat up a bottle of breast milk. Still, he didn't like seeing or hearing Oliver feed - said he smelled disgusting..forget about feeding him himself, or holding or changing or getting up in the middle of the night. So all of these basic care things fall on to me. I am the single mother with a back up dancer.
I work full time, I parent full time, I have to be a mother, a wife, a search engine placement agent ... and none of these things seem to have the ability to overlap. So I'll vent, and I'll dwell on things, and I'll get upset and want to leave or I'll kick John out of our room and make him sleep on the couch. Some days I can deal, I understand that John is broken and not going to be fixed any time soon. Other days are much, much more difficult. John thinks he'll be okay by the time Oliver is old enough to communicate -- three or so. He believes that he and Oliver will be the best of buds once Oliver stops spitting up after every meal, once he's potty trained, once he's able to look at the world and voice his concerns however basic. So, I'm on my own until then...trying desperately to speed up the process, and hoping for the best.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day
A month ago tomorrow.. my son, my love, my light was welcomed into this world. I'll be spending the day at work.
How did my first day back go, you might ask?
After doing the math on how much time I'd need with waking up Oliver, feeding him, getting a pump in, etc etc I was up at 5:30 am after about 3 hours of sleep.
Got Oliver fed, pumped some milk to give to Melissa, got us all ready and out the door. Shockingly, on time.
At Melissa's I had a tough time saying goodbye, but I had most of my composure held as I left and didn't break down until I was driving and glanced back to say something to Oliver and he wasn't there.
At work I was actually okay, getting back into the swing of things - smile on my face and energy. Started to reorganize my thoughts for where I wanted my team to go. One of the managers was going to let me use his office to pump, schedule was all worked out. Things were okay besides the missing my baby... and then ...
I got asked to come into a meeting to sign paperwork and go over the organizational changes. I assumed this meant my promotion and $2.50 raise I was promised in the meeting I had a few days before Oliver was born. Turns out, it was to tell me that my position was being absolved by someone who was barely managing their own lead position and had to rely on her team to help her make decisions. So she gets a promotion (and raise, I assume) and I get a $0.25 we're sorry please don't leave consolation prize and do you have any questions? Oh no.. I don't have any questions. Exclamations, many, but no... no questions. Other than, as one of my should have been employees expressed "DAFUQ?!"
So I go back to work, clench my teeth, and try not to cry. Their pitiful raise gives me an extra $10 a week before taxes, where I was counting on $90. By counting on, I mean was going to be able to get caught up on my bills and now I'm not so sure. I'm already having to make these decisions like... gas for the car or diapers, how important is my car really, ramen is totally a balanced meal right...
I fail at trying not to cry and do my best to keep my mascara from running and try and hide the fact I'm crying at all.
Then the guy who's supposed to let me use his office is all over the place and so I'm stressed about that.
I'm trying to figure out scheduling with Melissa (Oliver's godmother) and trying to work and trying to forget how comfortable it is to be snuggled up with Oliver in my bed and trying to get some office time in to pump and trying to remember why I liked working at Linktech..but that's all gone and all of the sudden I'm eating my lunch and trying to keep tears out of my spaghetti.
Then I have to call the lenders on my car and tell them I have no idea when I can pay them. That, surprisingly, went much better than expected.
I'm off work after what feels like years and traffic is crazy and I just want my baby. Finally I get to Josh & Melissa's get my love bug, hang out for a bit and get some milk & peanut butter & diapers and head home. Not sure how the day ended with gifts for me, but hey.
Now I've got baby in my arms and ranting to the internet while John does the only thing he's good at these days, sleep.
Dinner, then bed, then all over again... for the rest of my life...dunno if I can do it.
How did my first day back go, you might ask?
After doing the math on how much time I'd need with waking up Oliver, feeding him, getting a pump in, etc etc I was up at 5:30 am after about 3 hours of sleep.
Got Oliver fed, pumped some milk to give to Melissa, got us all ready and out the door. Shockingly, on time.
At Melissa's I had a tough time saying goodbye, but I had most of my composure held as I left and didn't break down until I was driving and glanced back to say something to Oliver and he wasn't there.
At work I was actually okay, getting back into the swing of things - smile on my face and energy. Started to reorganize my thoughts for where I wanted my team to go. One of the managers was going to let me use his office to pump, schedule was all worked out. Things were okay besides the missing my baby... and then ...
I got asked to come into a meeting to sign paperwork and go over the organizational changes. I assumed this meant my promotion and $2.50 raise I was promised in the meeting I had a few days before Oliver was born. Turns out, it was to tell me that my position was being absolved by someone who was barely managing their own lead position and had to rely on her team to help her make decisions. So she gets a promotion (and raise, I assume) and I get a $0.25 we're sorry please don't leave consolation prize and do you have any questions? Oh no.. I don't have any questions. Exclamations, many, but no... no questions. Other than, as one of my should have been employees expressed "DAFUQ?!"
So I go back to work, clench my teeth, and try not to cry. Their pitiful raise gives me an extra $10 a week before taxes, where I was counting on $90. By counting on, I mean was going to be able to get caught up on my bills and now I'm not so sure. I'm already having to make these decisions like... gas for the car or diapers, how important is my car really, ramen is totally a balanced meal right...
I fail at trying not to cry and do my best to keep my mascara from running and try and hide the fact I'm crying at all.
Then the guy who's supposed to let me use his office is all over the place and so I'm stressed about that.
I'm trying to figure out scheduling with Melissa (Oliver's godmother) and trying to work and trying to forget how comfortable it is to be snuggled up with Oliver in my bed and trying to get some office time in to pump and trying to remember why I liked working at Linktech..but that's all gone and all of the sudden I'm eating my lunch and trying to keep tears out of my spaghetti.
Then I have to call the lenders on my car and tell them I have no idea when I can pay them. That, surprisingly, went much better than expected.
I'm off work after what feels like years and traffic is crazy and I just want my baby. Finally I get to Josh & Melissa's get my love bug, hang out for a bit and get some milk & peanut butter & diapers and head home. Not sure how the day ended with gifts for me, but hey.
Now I've got baby in my arms and ranting to the internet while John does the only thing he's good at these days, sleep.
Dinner, then bed, then all over again... for the rest of my life...dunno if I can do it.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
indiegogo
Stephanie: You know how we were going to do a Kickstarter thing to get some baby money and that wouldn't work since they don't do 'life events' and what not but there was another site I couldn't think of? I just remembered... Indiegogo.
Johnathan: Yeah...It was more of a novelty idea and curious as to what kind of response it would get. I don't really have a compelling reason for someone to just give me money. I'm awesome?
Stephanie : Two smart kids from abusive backgrounds find each other across the cosmos and fall in love. They have ups, downs, laughs and tears and decide on an upswing to start a family. That upswing gets blown to bits and they scrape by for months with only $600 combined monthly income until they can both get jobs again but the baby's born before they're firmly back on their feet so they're back to ground zero as mom tries to heal as fast as she can and get back to work before dad's forced into male prostitution...
Johnathan: Right...But it's not something that the world would believe. I suppose we could make a "documentary" or something and we could label it something catchy/original like..."Slumdog Millionaire" or something...
Well, there are all kinds of things on Indiegogo so I decided to check it out and make a campaign. I figure, the worst that happens is no one donates, the best is that things pick up to the point we're able to get some funds to bring ourselves out of the paycheck to paycheck barely able to make it all work life we've been living. I would like to go grocery shopping and choose items based on health and flavor instead of what's the cheapest thing I can find. I would like to not have to worry about how I'm going to buy Oliver diapers or pay for his childcare or insurance.
The idea for the campaign came from us learning about the bus monitor who was made fun of by the kids on her bus, a campaign was started for her and because of internet word of mouth, she made $702,000 out of a $5,000 goal. Well, she didn't make the campaign, it was set up on her behalf...but still. Johnathan was the victim of every type of abuse you can think of growing up, and most of it too brutal to even think about writing about. I'd seen my fair share of hand-prints, flights of stairs, and ends of the barrel of a gun by the time I left home at 14. Stuff much worse than Karen the bus monitor went through (though don't get me wrong what she went through was awful). So we figured, hey, we've been through way worse than that and we're still going strong. We managed to find each other in the darkness and take our formally messed up lives and meld them into something better. We found our peace and just started getting our life on track and decided that it was a good of time as any to start a family...and then we both lost our jobs, and our optimism.
Now we've got a four week old son and we're struggling harder than we ever have had to before to make ends meet. That light at the end of the tunnel that once warmed us is now but a fading dream. There are diapers to buy, and food, and bills to pay. I'm terrified of getting that hospital bill for my delivery in the mail. We've sold so many things on Craigslist and still have more posted which doesn't seem to be going anywhere. It just never seems like enough. I'd be surprised greatly if we even raised $100. But, you never know. I'm sure when Max Sidorov created that page for Karen he never expected to make over 100 times what he set out to.
So... let's see what the internet will do.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
One week has gone by
in the blink of an eye! I have no idea where the days went, though I imagine the sleep/wake cycle of 2-3 hours sleep, 1 hour up rinsing and repeating probably has something to do with that. I keep getting asked how I'm adjusting... I'm not really sure how to respond because it doesn't feel like I've adjusted at all. So, I guess well? It feels like Oliver has always been here. Although, on the other hand, it feels like I have so much to learn. Trying to get into some formation of a routine seems impossible, but I know that it'll be best for all involved if we're able to make that happen. I'm not too worried about it now though. My main concern is keeping Oliver happy and putting some meat on his scrawny little bones. He's up 4 oz from where he was on his first appointment - so doctor's aren't worried about that. He seems to have picked up his appetite as well as he's no longer sleeping as long as I'll let him but is up just about at 2.5 hours on the dot from when I put him down.
As for me, I'm healing up. There are a lot of gross things postpartum that no one really tells you about... I'm feeling good emotionally as well, minus a few set backs..but we'll get to that. Johnathan went all papa bear on the bedroom getting it cleaned up, and we've got Oliver established in his micro nursery. We need to get the video surveillance system... I mean, baby monitor set up in there, but that's about it. In the meantime he gets to hang out with us downstairs if we're down there for extended periods of time. It's great to be back in my bed and able to fall asleep quicker - helps me snag a few more of those zzzs that have been eluding me.
I really am feeling like I do not want to go back to work... although it's only be a week, so we'll see how we feel in six more I suppose. My return to work date is currently set at October 8th. I can't bear the thought of leaving Oliver for a second, maybe he'll have worn me out by then. Not like I have much choice in the matter anyway. Gotta work to pay bills and buy food and that good stuff. While it's close, we're marginally better with me at work even with the additional costs incurred with child care, etc than with me staying home. Just barely. But boy oh boy looking into that little man's face I'll do whatever I can to give him the best life possible.
It amazes me how people can be cruel to their children. I mean, it always has. I feel bad complaining or making reference to that abuse that happened in my home when I know that so many people, my husband of which included, had it so much, much, epically worse. But that's my reference point in my own life. As a child I failed to comprehend why these things were happening to me. I couldn't grasp it. Now it seems even more completely abstract. I don't know if people are born evil, maybe the stresses of the world get to them, maybe having a child is too much to bear... but there's no part of my being that could ever fathom hurting Oliver with the intention to do so. No way. He's precious and he's mine. I couldn't imagine beating him because he didn't want to finish his dinner or because he forgot to put a brush back in the bathroom when he was done using it, or holding him at gun point at the kitchen table. How those justifications, among the hundreds of others were made in my father's mind I'll never know.
Which brings us to a transition to add in the emotional low point of the past week. I was trolling around on Facebook and noticed my brother had commented on our relative's picture. Every once in a while I like to check in on the brother, make sure he's doing okay, etc. So I visited his page, and noticed a friend of his had commented he was going to be in Oregon soon. I thought that my brother was still doing is Air Force bit, so I hadn't let him know about Oliver or been in touch with him in a while. So I sent him a text letting him know that he was an uncle and that he could come visit whenever he'd like to. In response to that, I got a Facebook message from my "father" threatening me. It's so unfortunate that my little brother, though technically a man, is still controlled by such an abusive and hateful person. I guess I lost contact there with the brother while I was figuring out my own life. I saw him when he was a freshman in high school, we went to lunch a few times. He was going to come to the wedding, so everything was good there - although my "parents" intervened and prevented him from doing so. I'm not sure what happened in the last two years, but something must have because I received a response of "fuck you cunt" to my text the next day. So, either some major brainwashing activities occurred in the last couple of years, or my father has control of Alex's phone... either way that definitely struck a cord. My largest regret of my life was not fighting to take Alex with me when I was removed from my childhood home. I'm not sure why DHS found that I was okay to leave and he was not... but we were both getting beat around. My mother would generally step in front of blows for my brother and not for me, and perhaps that was why at the time, I didn't fight for him. I was a child, and hurt, and selfish. It is what is though, however unfortunate and there is no changing the past.
It's less confusing for Oliver this way anyway, I guess. He doesn't need to know about all that happened, although I'm sure one day I'll tell him. I imagine that we'll have to go over it, how our family tree double backs up over itself. Or why I call his aunts my aunts and some of his cousins my nephews and nieces and others my cousins. I'd like to have a giant family meeting and tell everyone that I am the daughter of William and Leona as much as anyone else... but old habits die hard and I keep calling them grandma and grandpa anyway. Which makes things really interesting like in the hospital they asked who they were and I said my parents & nephews and then I'm calling them grandma and grandpa. I guess it works out since that's what they were becoming all over again, but still weird. It's been almost a decade since I became their daughter. I think the adoption was finalized in April of 2003. Time flies. Maybe when I've been their daughter for longer than I was their granddaughter, I'll be accepted by all as such. That's still four and some years off though.
Well, that's about it for the past week. Pumping and feeding, burping and changing, finally understanding why all those moms I know are doing laundry constantly...
Till next time.
As for me, I'm healing up. There are a lot of gross things postpartum that no one really tells you about... I'm feeling good emotionally as well, minus a few set backs..but we'll get to that. Johnathan went all papa bear on the bedroom getting it cleaned up, and we've got Oliver established in his micro nursery. We need to get the video surveillance system... I mean, baby monitor set up in there, but that's about it. In the meantime he gets to hang out with us downstairs if we're down there for extended periods of time. It's great to be back in my bed and able to fall asleep quicker - helps me snag a few more of those zzzs that have been eluding me.
I really am feeling like I do not want to go back to work... although it's only be a week, so we'll see how we feel in six more I suppose. My return to work date is currently set at October 8th. I can't bear the thought of leaving Oliver for a second, maybe he'll have worn me out by then. Not like I have much choice in the matter anyway. Gotta work to pay bills and buy food and that good stuff. While it's close, we're marginally better with me at work even with the additional costs incurred with child care, etc than with me staying home. Just barely. But boy oh boy looking into that little man's face I'll do whatever I can to give him the best life possible.
It amazes me how people can be cruel to their children. I mean, it always has. I feel bad complaining or making reference to that abuse that happened in my home when I know that so many people, my husband of which included, had it so much, much, epically worse. But that's my reference point in my own life. As a child I failed to comprehend why these things were happening to me. I couldn't grasp it. Now it seems even more completely abstract. I don't know if people are born evil, maybe the stresses of the world get to them, maybe having a child is too much to bear... but there's no part of my being that could ever fathom hurting Oliver with the intention to do so. No way. He's precious and he's mine. I couldn't imagine beating him because he didn't want to finish his dinner or because he forgot to put a brush back in the bathroom when he was done using it, or holding him at gun point at the kitchen table. How those justifications, among the hundreds of others were made in my father's mind I'll never know.
Which brings us to a transition to add in the emotional low point of the past week. I was trolling around on Facebook and noticed my brother had commented on our relative's picture. Every once in a while I like to check in on the brother, make sure he's doing okay, etc. So I visited his page, and noticed a friend of his had commented he was going to be in Oregon soon. I thought that my brother was still doing is Air Force bit, so I hadn't let him know about Oliver or been in touch with him in a while. So I sent him a text letting him know that he was an uncle and that he could come visit whenever he'd like to. In response to that, I got a Facebook message from my "father" threatening me. It's so unfortunate that my little brother, though technically a man, is still controlled by such an abusive and hateful person. I guess I lost contact there with the brother while I was figuring out my own life. I saw him when he was a freshman in high school, we went to lunch a few times. He was going to come to the wedding, so everything was good there - although my "parents" intervened and prevented him from doing so. I'm not sure what happened in the last two years, but something must have because I received a response of "fuck you cunt" to my text the next day. So, either some major brainwashing activities occurred in the last couple of years, or my father has control of Alex's phone... either way that definitely struck a cord. My largest regret of my life was not fighting to take Alex with me when I was removed from my childhood home. I'm not sure why DHS found that I was okay to leave and he was not... but we were both getting beat around. My mother would generally step in front of blows for my brother and not for me, and perhaps that was why at the time, I didn't fight for him. I was a child, and hurt, and selfish. It is what is though, however unfortunate and there is no changing the past.
It's less confusing for Oliver this way anyway, I guess. He doesn't need to know about all that happened, although I'm sure one day I'll tell him. I imagine that we'll have to go over it, how our family tree double backs up over itself. Or why I call his aunts my aunts and some of his cousins my nephews and nieces and others my cousins. I'd like to have a giant family meeting and tell everyone that I am the daughter of William and Leona as much as anyone else... but old habits die hard and I keep calling them grandma and grandpa anyway. Which makes things really interesting like in the hospital they asked who they were and I said my parents & nephews and then I'm calling them grandma and grandpa. I guess it works out since that's what they were becoming all over again, but still weird. It's been almost a decade since I became their daughter. I think the adoption was finalized in April of 2003. Time flies. Maybe when I've been their daughter for longer than I was their granddaughter, I'll be accepted by all as such. That's still four and some years off though.
Well, that's about it for the past week. Pumping and feeding, burping and changing, finally understanding why all those moms I know are doing laundry constantly...
Till next time.
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