Blue

Today Finn is 2 weeks old.

I hate it that I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I am.

Today Michael went back to work. Nancy, our temporary nanny, came over for 4 hours and looked after the older kids so I could spend some time focusing on Finnian, breastfeeding, etc. It was a really big help to have her here . . . but I still felt overwhelmed. I find myself being so short-tempered with the older kids. It really feels like they have conspired together and decided to ignore pretty much everything I tell them, so I repeat myself over and over to them until I find myself losing my temper and yelling. And then I feel like shit.

The breastfeeding is going well, at least logistically. Finnian latches on well and seems to nurse well, and as of today, I've been able to ditch the nipple shields, which means he's taking it straight from the tap and that makes it a lot easier. He was up in the middle of the night and I sat with him for an hour or so. He's starting to have more awake/alert/fussy periods, and it's not always so easy to soothe him. He woke with a dry diaper again this morning. Don't know what to think about that. He had several wet and poopy dipes throughout the day, which I took as a good sign, but Sue came over and weighed him (she also came and weighed him yesterday) and he was the same: 6 lbs. 2 oz. At least he's maintaining his weight, right? But still, I'd feel better if he were gaining. When Michael got home we agreed that he should give him a bottle, for not other reason than to keep him willing to take an occasional bottle. I nursed him first and he still took the entire bottle (about 2 oz.), so that left me feeling like a failure - apparently he's not filling up on what he's getting from me after all.

I should be thrilled that my baby is finally home . . . and I am. But I sometimes wish with all my heart that I was just still pregnant with him . . . that I could go back to the time before all this, before the trip to the ER, before the surgery, before the Down syndrome, before the baby with the feeding issues. I find myself in tears for no good reason a dozen times a day.

I find myself examining Finn and wondering if every little quirky thing about him is a result of the Ds. Where did he get that platinum hair? Then there are his pinky fingers that are curved inward. And the excess space between his first and second toes. His belly button is rather odd-looking too. And of course there is the telltale slight upward slant of his eyes. Sometimes I look at him and he reminds me of a little elf, and it makes me smile. Sometimes I look at him and see all these things and wonder if other people will notice the same things at first glance. And they'll know, or at least wonder. When you have a child with Down syndrome, do you tell people right off the bat, "This is my son, Finn, and he has Down syndrome"? Or do you pretend it's not there? Or do you just let people wonder? I don't even know.

Try as I might, I can't help thinking about the future. Which is silly, because I've been dealt enough blows in this life to understand that the future is the most uncertain thing in the world. But still. What will he be like? What will he be able to do? I don't think he'll ever be able to drive a car. He may have a job at a grocery store or a fast-food joint some day. I can't assume he'll go to college, can I? Will he ever be able to live on his own, or will he spend his adulthood living with us or in some kind of group home? And can an adult with Ds who has the mentality of a child drink a beer? I don't even know. And it makes me very very sad.