Tonight, at 5:45, I will take my cat to the vet and he will put her down. I called this morning and as soon as the receptionist answered, my eyes filled with tears. I have unsuccessfully tried many times before to make this call. Today was the first time I was able to actually make the appointment because this time, I know in my heart, it is time.
I love my cat. She has been with me for over 15 years and she is a wonderful little beast. I got her at a "valley" period in my life and she helped through that period into a better "peak". She certainly has helped me through many more "valleys" since then. She's a small cat, often mistaken for a kitten. She is wonderful with the kids, loves people, is affectionate and friendly. But, she is old and she has a bladder problem and she is missing the litter box a lot.
While this is certainly not the worst thing I have ever gone through, it's so much more difficult than I would have imagined it to be. Already, there have been a few times when I've had to walk away from Joey because my eyes have been overflowing. And, I have no idea about what I'm going to tell him yet. I have no idea what to say to my 3 year old son about the cat he loves who will no longer be in his life.
The Vet has promised me that it will be a peaceful and humane experience for Poodie, and that I will be able to hold her the entire time. I am glad about that, because as difficult as it will be, it would be worse for me if I couldn't be there to say a final goodbye to my sweet little kitty.
Wow, this is a sad day.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Losing Another Piece...
While pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby, like any new mom to be, I had dreams about what they would look like and who they would be like. I was thrilled to have both genders and I would imagine me dressing them, the girls in fancy dresses and Ryan in a dapper outfit and taking them out. I also looked forward to their rooms-decorating them and then helping my kids decorate as they got older. I have always believed that a bedroom is a great place for a child to express him/herself and that they should be allowed some creative freedom to decorate their own rooms.
I had decided that since Hannah, Ryan and Abby would probably be small and it would be easier for R and me, that they would share a room after they were born, so I "designed" a room that would be appropriate for both girls and a boy. When I was pregnant with Joey, I spent a considerable amount of time thinking about whether or not I wanted to change the room or keep the theme and color scheme the same. In the end, I decided that I love the room and that I wanted to keep it. I did give away the boy crib bedding I had gotten for Ryan and bought a new one for Joey. I just couldn't bear the thought of another child using Ryan's bedding, even though Ryan had never used it. And, I didn't want Joey to have to "share" his bedding with a memory of what should have been...
While I was pregnant with them, the room got painted, I set up a crib and had furniture, but that was as far as I had gotten before I went on bed-rest. There were no wall decorations, no pictures, no books, no trucks or toys. The room was basically "sterile" and it stayed that way for almost a year and half, until just after Joey was born. It was then that I was able to personalize it for Joey and it is now Joey's room, not Hannah, Ryan and Abby's room.
The other day, Joey told me he wanted a truck bed (his friend has one). I'm not running out to buy him a truck bed tomorrow, but I do recognize that it's just a matter of time before the room is too "baby" for him.
When the day comes that I have to swap the baby colors for big boy ones and pack up all the things in his room that make it "baby-like", a part of my heart will be sad that my little boy is growing up so quickly. Changing out his room will be a symbolic end of his baby-ness.
But, the sadness will run much deeper than that for me. Even though it is Joey's room, the vision and dreams of that room started with Hannah, Ryan and Abby and my visions and dreams for them. So when the room gets changed, I will lose another connection to my three babies who never had the chance to sleep there. In a world where there are so few tangible, touchable connections, it really stings to lose another piece.
I miss the memories that we'll never make.
I had decided that since Hannah, Ryan and Abby would probably be small and it would be easier for R and me, that they would share a room after they were born, so I "designed" a room that would be appropriate for both girls and a boy. When I was pregnant with Joey, I spent a considerable amount of time thinking about whether or not I wanted to change the room or keep the theme and color scheme the same. In the end, I decided that I love the room and that I wanted to keep it. I did give away the boy crib bedding I had gotten for Ryan and bought a new one for Joey. I just couldn't bear the thought of another child using Ryan's bedding, even though Ryan had never used it. And, I didn't want Joey to have to "share" his bedding with a memory of what should have been...
While I was pregnant with them, the room got painted, I set up a crib and had furniture, but that was as far as I had gotten before I went on bed-rest. There were no wall decorations, no pictures, no books, no trucks or toys. The room was basically "sterile" and it stayed that way for almost a year and half, until just after Joey was born. It was then that I was able to personalize it for Joey and it is now Joey's room, not Hannah, Ryan and Abby's room.
The other day, Joey told me he wanted a truck bed (his friend has one). I'm not running out to buy him a truck bed tomorrow, but I do recognize that it's just a matter of time before the room is too "baby" for him.
When the day comes that I have to swap the baby colors for big boy ones and pack up all the things in his room that make it "baby-like", a part of my heart will be sad that my little boy is growing up so quickly. Changing out his room will be a symbolic end of his baby-ness.
But, the sadness will run much deeper than that for me. Even though it is Joey's room, the vision and dreams of that room started with Hannah, Ryan and Abby and my visions and dreams for them. So when the room gets changed, I will lose another connection to my three babies who never had the chance to sleep there. In a world where there are so few tangible, touchable connections, it really stings to lose another piece.
I miss the memories that we'll never make.
Friday, April 11, 2008
A Little Sweat Brings A Lot of Clarity
Laura woke up at 5:15 this morning then after eating, she fell right back asleep. She's not really a snuggle-kid, so I love that she does cuddle right in and falls back asleep after nursing like this. I'll miss that when she's weaned...
Anyway, after listening to her light snoring for a few minutes, I decided to put her back in the crib and take a 6:15 a.m. spinning class. I'm not a morning person so the thought of working out in the morning isn't all that appealing to me, but I was already up. I considered going back to bed for a little bit, and believe me it was tempting, but I knew R would be getting up soon and I was already wide awake, so I decided to go for it.
Midway through the class my mind was blank, my legs were burning, and my towel was soaked. I heard the music and the instructor barking motivational commands, but my brain wasn't really processing either of them. I wasn't thinking about anything, really, until a random thought popped into my head: In the past 6 years, this is the longest I've gone without taking massive doses of infertility drugs or feeling the weight of stress that comes from being a high risk pregnancy.
When I finished the class this morning I was proud of myself. I felt strong and I was ready to enjoy my day. When I was going through infertility treatments or pregnant the hormones and stress stripped me of these feelings, and with each attempt, it became more and more difficult to regain them. I was left feeling robbed of my confidence and it's only now that I'm getting it back.
When I think of all we've been through emotionally, physically and financially, I know closing the door on treatments and pregnancy is the right thing to do for my family and for myself. I'm sure there will be moments of sadness, especially as Laura gets further and further away from being a baby, but today, as I think about my life, I feel happy about where I'm headed and relieved that infertility is no longer part of my future.
Anyway, after listening to her light snoring for a few minutes, I decided to put her back in the crib and take a 6:15 a.m. spinning class. I'm not a morning person so the thought of working out in the morning isn't all that appealing to me, but I was already up. I considered going back to bed for a little bit, and believe me it was tempting, but I knew R would be getting up soon and I was already wide awake, so I decided to go for it.
Midway through the class my mind was blank, my legs were burning, and my towel was soaked. I heard the music and the instructor barking motivational commands, but my brain wasn't really processing either of them. I wasn't thinking about anything, really, until a random thought popped into my head: In the past 6 years, this is the longest I've gone without taking massive doses of infertility drugs or feeling the weight of stress that comes from being a high risk pregnancy.
When I finished the class this morning I was proud of myself. I felt strong and I was ready to enjoy my day. When I was going through infertility treatments or pregnant the hormones and stress stripped me of these feelings, and with each attempt, it became more and more difficult to regain them. I was left feeling robbed of my confidence and it's only now that I'm getting it back.
When I think of all we've been through emotionally, physically and financially, I know closing the door on treatments and pregnancy is the right thing to do for my family and for myself. I'm sure there will be moments of sadness, especially as Laura gets further and further away from being a baby, but today, as I think about my life, I feel happy about where I'm headed and relieved that infertility is no longer part of my future.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Remembering...
Today, I started to swap my winter for spring clothes in my closet. Hannah, Ryan and Abby's memory boxes sit on a corner shelf, high up in a safe location of my closet and as I went through my stuff, my eyes kept going back to their boxes.
Finally, I put my clothing project aside and did what I knew my heart wanted to do: I took down their boxes, sat on my bed and went through them. It's been a long time since I've done this. I carefully looked at each baby's photo, tracing the outline of their faces with my finger. I took out Abby's hat and turned it inside out to see the tiny spec of skin that remains in it-tangible evidence that she wore this hat. I inhaled deeply to try and draw the scent from Hannah's blanket. I know the scent has long since faded but as I inhaled, my mind could so clearly smell her. It made my eyes fill with tears...
At the bottom of each box, I keep all the letters I've written to them. The top letter of Ryan's box was one I wrote to the three of them, this past Christmas. I won't share all it, but I am going to share some~
Dear Hannah, Ryan and Abby,
Our tree is lit, a fire is burning and soft Christmas music is playing in the background. I have a rare moment to myself right now and I'm feeling so peaceful and happy. This morning was magical: Joey was in awe of the tree and of Santa's arrival and Laura was blissfully unaware of the spirit of Christmas that surrounded us.
However, now in this quiet moment, I think of you. As I feel the warmth of the fire, my heart aches for you. There has not been a single day that I haven't thought about you and I still miss you terribly. Time has worn the edges of my pain, softened them, but thankfully, it has not changed my love for you. It has been 4 years now and you are still very much a part of me and who I am.
As the years go by, I wonder if a time will come when I won't think about you every day. I can not and will not allow myself to hold onto grief and force myself to think about you daily just to keep your memory "alive". It's just not my way, and yet I still do think about you every day-it just sort of happens without any conscious effort. My thoughts are not always filled with the deep sorrow that I had in my early days of recovery~but they are always filled with love......
=================================================================
There is always love but today there is also deep sorrow.
Finally, I put my clothing project aside and did what I knew my heart wanted to do: I took down their boxes, sat on my bed and went through them. It's been a long time since I've done this. I carefully looked at each baby's photo, tracing the outline of their faces with my finger. I took out Abby's hat and turned it inside out to see the tiny spec of skin that remains in it-tangible evidence that she wore this hat. I inhaled deeply to try and draw the scent from Hannah's blanket. I know the scent has long since faded but as I inhaled, my mind could so clearly smell her. It made my eyes fill with tears...
At the bottom of each box, I keep all the letters I've written to them. The top letter of Ryan's box was one I wrote to the three of them, this past Christmas. I won't share all it, but I am going to share some~
Dear Hannah, Ryan and Abby,
Our tree is lit, a fire is burning and soft Christmas music is playing in the background. I have a rare moment to myself right now and I'm feeling so peaceful and happy. This morning was magical: Joey was in awe of the tree and of Santa's arrival and Laura was blissfully unaware of the spirit of Christmas that surrounded us.
However, now in this quiet moment, I think of you. As I feel the warmth of the fire, my heart aches for you. There has not been a single day that I haven't thought about you and I still miss you terribly. Time has worn the edges of my pain, softened them, but thankfully, it has not changed my love for you. It has been 4 years now and you are still very much a part of me and who I am.
As the years go by, I wonder if a time will come when I won't think about you every day. I can not and will not allow myself to hold onto grief and force myself to think about you daily just to keep your memory "alive". It's just not my way, and yet I still do think about you every day-it just sort of happens without any conscious effort. My thoughts are not always filled with the deep sorrow that I had in my early days of recovery~but they are always filled with love......
=================================================================
There is always love but today there is also deep sorrow.
Monday, April 7, 2008
The Plan Is Working
Yesterday was my 39th birthday. It's a fairly inconsequential birthday number, except that it now puts me in the final year of my 30's.
When R and I talked about what we wanted to do this day, I told him there was a local 5K race I wanted to run in, as a family. I told him I didn't want him to run beside me (he's much faster than I am) I wanted to do this at my own pace, for myself and by myself, but that at the end of the race, I would love for him and the kids to be there to cheer me on.
However, when we woke up yesterday, the weather was cool and drizzling-not exactly great running weather. We decided to do it anyway but as we pulled up to the race area, the drizzle had turned to rain. R decided it would be better to drop me off and take the kids to breakfast, rather than run with them. I was a little bummed, but I waved goodbye and ran off to get my race number. About a minute before the race was to go off, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see R with the double jogger and the kids all bundled up snug. Joey was blissfully eating Dunkin Donuts Munchkins and Laura sat happy as a lark, just taking it all in.
My face must have looked puzzled because R said "As I was driving away, I realized we should be out here as a family, so we came back to run". Before I could say anything, the race started and we both set off.
It didn't take long before he was well in front of me and fading out of my sight. I stayed focused on my breathing and kept a slow steady pace. Even though I could no longer see R, it was nice to know he was there.
I have run several races since Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, but I always ran them without emotion. This race was different for me-inwardly, I felt different. As I neared the finish line, I saw R, dripping wet in the rain and as I ran past him, he and Joey cheered me on while Laura sat looking out, cooing and smiling. It gave me the courage and the boost I needed to pick up my pace and sprint to the finish line.
I finished the race in 27 minutes and 42 seconds-just under a 9 minute pace. It wasn't even close to a personal best for me but I didn't care. As I crossed that finish line, hearing my son and my husband cheering me on, I was beaming inside and out.
See, what was different for me yesterday wasn't just that my family was there, supporting me. What was different for me yesterday, was that I felt strong.
When R and I talked about what we wanted to do this day, I told him there was a local 5K race I wanted to run in, as a family. I told him I didn't want him to run beside me (he's much faster than I am) I wanted to do this at my own pace, for myself and by myself, but that at the end of the race, I would love for him and the kids to be there to cheer me on.
However, when we woke up yesterday, the weather was cool and drizzling-not exactly great running weather. We decided to do it anyway but as we pulled up to the race area, the drizzle had turned to rain. R decided it would be better to drop me off and take the kids to breakfast, rather than run with them. I was a little bummed, but I waved goodbye and ran off to get my race number. About a minute before the race was to go off, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see R with the double jogger and the kids all bundled up snug. Joey was blissfully eating Dunkin Donuts Munchkins and Laura sat happy as a lark, just taking it all in.
My face must have looked puzzled because R said "As I was driving away, I realized we should be out here as a family, so we came back to run". Before I could say anything, the race started and we both set off.
It didn't take long before he was well in front of me and fading out of my sight. I stayed focused on my breathing and kept a slow steady pace. Even though I could no longer see R, it was nice to know he was there.
I have run several races since Hannah, Ryan and Abby died, but I always ran them without emotion. This race was different for me-inwardly, I felt different. As I neared the finish line, I saw R, dripping wet in the rain and as I ran past him, he and Joey cheered me on while Laura sat looking out, cooing and smiling. It gave me the courage and the boost I needed to pick up my pace and sprint to the finish line.
I finished the race in 27 minutes and 42 seconds-just under a 9 minute pace. It wasn't even close to a personal best for me but I didn't care. As I crossed that finish line, hearing my son and my husband cheering me on, I was beaming inside and out.
See, what was different for me yesterday wasn't just that my family was there, supporting me. What was different for me yesterday, was that I felt strong.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
R.E.M.
Well, it's been a 3 days now and I hope I'm not jinxing myself by writing this post. After the first night of crying, Laura has slept through the night for the last 2 days. She's woken up between 5:45 and 6:30 a.m. to eat-once she stayed awake and once she fell back asleep afterwards. Either way is fine with me because when she stays awake, I get one on one time with her and when she falls asleep, I get to start my day by actually reading the newspaper.
And, in just 3 short days of getting some real rest, I have become a different person. I am happier, more productive and a better mom and wife.
Sleep-it's a wonderful thing. I'm heading off to get some now...
And, in just 3 short days of getting some real rest, I have become a different person. I am happier, more productive and a better mom and wife.
Sleep-it's a wonderful thing. I'm heading off to get some now...
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Cry It Out
My body craved sleep so badly last night that at 9:30 p.m. I put in ear plugs and went to bed. I briefly heard Joey around 2:00 a.m. and then I briefly heard Laura around 3:30, but I didn't go to either of them.
This morning, Laura woke up around 6:30 and Joey woke up around 6:45. I have no idea what their nights were like, I only know that for the first time in over a year, I didn't stagger out of my bed to comfort them at "oh-dark-30". They are both happy today, so whatever happened last night, it couldn't have been too bad. And, although I still need more sleep, I feel a ton better.
Now I only hope I have the courage and strength to do it again tonight...
This morning, Laura woke up around 6:30 and Joey woke up around 6:45. I have no idea what their nights were like, I only know that for the first time in over a year, I didn't stagger out of my bed to comfort them at "oh-dark-30". They are both happy today, so whatever happened last night, it couldn't have been too bad. And, although I still need more sleep, I feel a ton better.
Now I only hope I have the courage and strength to do it again tonight...
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