Stinx woke up at 3am or something. I didn't really look at the clock. He came to my room looking for me - trying to drag me back to his little bed. I told him to come sleep in my big bed but he refused. He mentioned earlier that my room is too dark. I need a night light. As I get bigger, his bed gets too small.
We both went pee on the potty and then went back to his bed.
I've been laying there for over an hour. I can't fall back to sleep. Whether it's pregnancy induced or just the fact that I can't shut my brain off, I don't know.
But I figure if I write out what my thoughts are, maybe I'll be able to sleep soon.
First I was thinking of how Anti-Kels is due really soon. I just checked my FB and she told me she's having regular contractions every 10 minutes. Wow. Could be sooner than I thought. Then I was thinking about how I will have to get this baby out of me at some point. I will be birthing at the same hospital Stinx was born at. When I start thinking about nurses or doctors wanting to do interventions, I automatically feel hostile. Like bitter. Like a bitch. Like, don't fuck with me. I just don't want to be trampled on again. I want the nurses to ask my permission for everything they do. Check how far dilated I am? Ok, so long as you ask my permission. I know I really need to deal with this bitterness before the baby comes. I'm working on it. I tried making an appointment for a private session of the Birth Stories work shop through Birthing From Within. The instructor was on holidays. I think she's back now. I'll have to call her tomorrow.
After I thought about my desire for a VBAC and my hostility towards the hospital staff, my thoughts turned back to work.
I saw a client on Wednesday who just puzzles me. When I met him years ago, he was an angry young man with an intense crack addiction. He was aggressive, rude and got into fights. He was barred many times and then for life. He'd still manage to sneak into the building at meal times and then sleep off his crack runs. He looked like crap. He looked like a zombie. I remember times pleading with him to leave. I hated the thought of kicking him out. Even though he was a jerk, I knew he just needed some food and sleep. I think it was right before I had Stinx, he cleaned himself up. So this was about 3 years ago. I remember seeing him sober and thinking he looked like a totally different person.
So anyways, I saw him on Wednesday again. I see him every now and then on my weekly shift. He looks handsome now, like a normal 29 year old man. He looks healthy. He acts respectable. He has clearly gone through an amazing life change. A miracle. Seriously, a miracle. What I don't get is why he is still at the shelter. Has he switched one addiction for the other? Perhaps gambling instead of smoking crack? Or does he just lack life skills and the support needed to get off the street? He puzzles me. I want to ask him what happened, what made him clean up? I want to tell him to go all the way, get off the street, but I won't. I'm too shy to say stuff like that unless I know the person well. And I don't know him well. Our conversations in the past were limited to me begging him to leave the building without me having to call the police.
I want to encourage him and tell him I am still blown away by his change in attitude and lifestyle. It is a radical difference.
I want to hear his story. It's hard getting to that point with a client though. It takes time and 4 hours a week doesn't leave me with lots of time to build re pore with clients. It basically leaves me enough time to visit the clients I already know well.
I'm going to attempt to go back to bed now. Good night.