So, Rowan has started to sleep through the night (mostly) the last week or so. Can't say I'm particularly bothered either way since I never got up because of him anyway. but I guess it's nice to know I've not fucked him up by spoiling him by having him in my bed from day 1 ;)
It's also nice to have a guaranteed 5 hours to myself of an evening since he goes to bed at 7pm. Conversely, I also miss him. I miss his desperate need of me. But only a little ;) I really love the time when I do my own thing, then go up to him and just watch him sleeping looking so beautiful...and cuddle in next to him for 8 hours of kip. It's bliss, really.
Only tonight, or rather, this morning (2.15am), I can't sleep. I'm so tired, so mentally drained, but I'm also pretty depressed and I cannot nod off. Had CAFCASS child welfare people round today - a pretty routine thing for a court case of this nature, but still immensely stressful. God, to be watched in horror as your toddler runs round the living room with an instrument in his mouth... like he would actually choke on something so big... to be asked where his bedroom is 'just so i can check it's got a carpet and a cot and is clean...'. I'm not really mad that they checked that, I mean it's blatantly obvious Rowan is not neglected in any way, I'm more annoyed that it's just so assumed in our culture that Ro is in 'his own room' (as if that's some sort of privilege??) and a cot... he's never been in one. Never will. He belongs next to me, skin to skin, so he can hear my heartbeat, so I can feel his chest gently rise, gently fall... all night. CAFCASS lady looks confused. I cite some research. She seems appeased. It's so fucking tiring...
She cheerily relays tales of horrific neglect that she has seen, homes she has visited, poor hungry crying children... oh jeez lady, don't you bring that to my door as well as your bloody filofax of notes on me. So all day I've had these awful images in my head. I used to live in a horrid flat - when I moved in, there was a room that had been used for a little girl, it had ripped up dirty carpet, mould, damp, peeled off pink wallpaper, broken glass in the windows, a dirty little bed, and several locks on the outside of the door. It gave me chills. I never did end up using that room, and shuddered virtually every time I walked past it. I am now, thinking about it.
I can completely understand why they had to do the visit, I can - some children are not vaccinated because the parents are simply too drugged up and/or fucked up to make and keep an appointment. Some actively just don't give a shit. Not the case here - an evidence-based, thoroughly researched and agonised-over decision has been made.
So we've been firmly crossed off the 'abuse' list - doubt we were ever really on it to be honest. Ro was a delight, putting a monkey mask on her and playing and not trying to grope my boobas an awful lot. He had one feed. She didnt quite know where to look. Oh he's only 16 months honey... come back in a couple of years and THEN see how awkward you feel!
To give her her dues, she was complimentary about my house, Rowan, my mothering, breastfeeding in general, etc etc. She fired questions at me like a loaded automatic... it was a bit nerve wracking. But I guess it's all prep for the cross-examination I'll get in Court in 5 days. And before that, my Clinical exam in 3 days. Oh lord... any wonder I can't sleep?
I also got to read Adam's statement to Court about me, vaccinations, etc. What an utter load of wank... typos, opinion not evidence, full of pomposity. Well, what did I expect? Got to see him tmrw at contact. Dreading it. Knowing he will have read my very long statement, too. I emailed him tonight saying he needs to contribute to the shoes I am buying for Rowan next week. Told, not asked. If he's so fucking ra ra ra about being a dad to Rowan, he can put his money where his mouth is.
In other news, lots of angel work still happening. It's a beautiful thing and a source of strength. I do see the lessons in all of this - I cannot change everyone, I cannot control everything, I have to have trust, and I have more inner strength than I ever dared to dream was possible. Oh hell yes, I am strong. I can handle anything after what I've achieved the last 6 months... the last 2 years... I'm the woman I always wanted to be, and getting more so each day. If I sound a little self-congratulatory... well, I am. I've fucking worked hard, and short of a divine act or disaster, I am qualifying as a herbalist in 3 days. Now that is worth celebrating. In the midst of all this shit... and maybe even in part, because of it... I have achieved a dream.
ROCKIN single mama-hood!
Peace out x
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