What Do You Do When...

From a child's lips to God's ears.

Our trip to North Carolina provided us with 4 new members of our family.  Herman, Hermione, Heron and Hershey.  Lexy's little hermit crab babies.  Only they're not babies.  I think.  I'm not sure, I mean, can you really tell how old a hermit crab is?  I think they're young.  They're small.  And I think hermits get to be big.  Do they get big?  Because if they grow any bigger I can't say that I'll be picking them up on a regular basis.  Cause the bigger they are the harder they pinch.  And they pinch.  A lot.  

The hermits survived 7 hours in the car on the way home.  They survived cool nights before we could buy a heater for them, before we could buy a new terrarium for them to live in with all kinds of sand and climbing toys and coconut fiber for them to eat and climb.  But, one little hermit.  The one with the yellow shell.  The only one that Lexy picked and said that she loved and wanted.  Poor little Hermione has passed away.  And when I told my mother that little Hermione has passed away, she asked how I knew... well, I suppose when the legs fall out from the shell and land on the sand you sort of have your answer.

We had 15 minutes of sadness, no tears mind you, but the questions about why animals die, how animals die, where do they go when they die, how do you get to heaven and what is in heaven.  All perfectly valid questions, of course, but they're hard to discuss with adults, let alone with a 4 year old   How do you explain to a 4 year old that hermit crabs don't live forever, that they're hermit crabs.  They aren't supposed to live forever?

My big parenting lesson of the day?  Pull the little one into your lap (or what's left of your lap when you're 27 weeks pregnant), answer the questions to the best of your ability and with as much honesty as you can muster, and let them be sad.  And the promise them a new hermit crab.

But, Lexy summed it up herself and in the best possible way.


"And dear God, please look after Hermione and take care of her now that she's gone up to be in Heaven.  She's a good Hermit Crab.  Amen."

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And, yes.  There was a funeral, complete with TAPS, for Hermione.

Finn Part II

Dear Friends.

This has a long and traumatic weekend that I have yet to recover from. I'm not sure if I'll ever recover from it. I have learned that our beloved Finn has cancer. Low-grade stromal sarcoma. The doctors give him a 40% chance of surviving a year if we don't choose to undergo treatment. The odds in the other direction are forthcoming when we see the oncologist on Tuesday.

I have also learned that my dear friend from college has had the news that her newborn and beautiful son has a rare genetic disorder called Alpha-1 antitrypsin deficency. It has life long implications for his care and lifestyle and may require a possible transplant situation. This is not fair for a 2 week old. It is not fair for a family just starting out. It's just not fair. If anyone can rise to the occassion and be the knowledgable and loving mother it will be her.

I know that this is hard to read and for me harder to write. I am hoping to learn from this weekend and the stress that it has brought. I am hoping to grow from these things and learn how to be a better friend and how to parent my child through what is a likely situation of losing her beloved "Finny Finn". This is going to take some adjustment and getting used to.

Love to you all.

Carin

Finn

So, I said that I was coming back. I was going to find the time to write. I was going to update everyone on the trip we took to Josh's parents and the beautiful river that they live and work on. I was going to post the cute picture of Lexy sitting on a horse at our friends farm, the pictures of her chasing the cats, looking at the chickens, running through the fields to find the cows. I was going to write about how I'm getting more and more exhausted because work is getting more and more oppressive (in terms of work load seeing as we have zero staff at the moment) and Lexy doesn't stop talking or asking questions for every second of her waking hours. And sometimes while she's sleeping. I put up one post... and then I got smacked in the head. Okay, not really smacked in the head. 22 staples in the stomach. Not my stomach. Finn's stomach.

Friday morning Finn peed on the floor at 2 am. I know, sorry, it's a tad gross. I had to get up and clean the floor at 2 am. It was gross for me, too. And then, when I woke up at 7, there was vomit and bowel movement on the floor. Now, I have a 2 year old. Accidents and sickness happen. But when you're having breakfast company and 2 year old awake and calling "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy" over and over and you still have to shower and make the said company breakfast, finding surprises on the floor is not the greatest way to start your day. And then there were ants in the kitchen.

At this point, following breakfast, I was completely selfish. I had realized something was really really really wrong with the dog when I couldn't get him to eat, he didn't want to see my girlfriend whom he loves, and he didn't want to move from the floor. In fact, he didn't want to lift his head. And then the stomach breathing started. That really deep, sucking, rolling breathing that you know is not a good thing. I called my mother. I believe my exact words were "I need my mommy and I'm not afraid to admit it." Oh, yeah, I was whining. Lexy was crazy from company, the dog was sick, there were ants in the kitchen. I wanted to sit on the floor and cry.

Long story short? Emergency vet appointment led to emergency vet hospital appointment followed by ultrasound followed by exploratory surgery followed by spleen removal and testing for cancer. It was almost like being back in the hospital after Lexy was born and seeing her in the NICU for the first time. The fear and icy feeling in the stomach and your heart beats a little irregular.



Our fur baby. Our first baby. Our permanent 2 year old. My company on quiet nights when Josh is out playing volleyball. My burglar alarm (or fox alarm). My buddy. Lexy's playmate. Lexy's "Finny Finn".



He got to come home Saturday night. He'd lost a lot of weight, couldn't walk very well, was really out of it with medication, had no appetite and had no interest in anything other than the new doggy pillow bed that we bought him to rest his sore belly on.




Our "franken-dog". 22 staples. An incision the entire length of his belly. And no way to explain to him what happened and why. He looks at me with these big eyes that tell me he wants to go for his long walk or to try and go down the stairs and he just doesn't get why it hurts so much for him to do it.

Every day he's getting better. He's eating again. We went for a short walk. He's walking up stairs but not down. He's wagging his tail when he sees new people. He's no where near being himself. But he'll get better from the surgery.

We're just waiting on spleen and liver biopsies to make any decisions about our 5 year old fur baby. The first child of our marriage and the first love of our lives as a family.



That's where I went this weekend. Maybe later this week I can update you on the river and the farm. Sometime after work before the biopsy results and during the "Mommy what's this?", "Mommy read this book", "Mommy I want want to watch Elmo"'s.

I hope your weekends were amazing. There must be some joy out there somewhere. Maybe it will be passed down this way when we get those test results Friday.



Love to you all.

Carin

Rainbow Bridge

Dear Friends,

Today I am sad as I type. I have tears in my eyes, in my heart, and just want to hug everyone (and every dog) I see. I heard the news that a dear friend had to have her beloved friend, companion, fur-baby dog to sleep today. She had been battling for a while, but I always hold out hope for a miracle. Her miracle came today when her lovely, funny, strong and beautiful owner helped her to a peace and comfort that she hadn't known for a while. It makes me miss my own beloved fur-baby, even though she's been gone for years. It doesn't get easier, it just gets put aside.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

Love to you, Fiona. God Bless and God Keep.

C-