A week gone 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.