I have decided this blog is going to become my TMI outlet. Sometimes I feel the need to talk about things that everyone IRL doesn't really need to know, but I also want to know if anyone else in the blogosphere has had these issues, or I want to document them for future just in case I ever wonder if these things have happened before.
So, on with the TMI!
Okay, we all know I had surgery 5 months ago to repair a weekend spot in my uterus due to a uterine rupture when my daughter was born, right? Well, if you didn't you do now. If you didn't know that, I am also going to tell you that weakened spot was the result of a uterine septum removal gone bad a few years ago.
Anyway. So occasionally, I will spot randomly. I THINK it is because that spot is still really mad. Like if I have a particularly obstinate BM, it isn't unlikely for me to spot a little afterward. If things get a little too hot and heavy in the bedroom, it also isn't unlikely for me to spot a bit afterward.
Six days ago I got my positive OPK. DH and I had been doing the BD since the day before, and for three days following. So for four days, we BD'ed. The first three days I was fine afterward. After the fourth day, I bled and spotted. No biggie. But then I kept spotting. And kept spotting. And it wasn't just a little bit. It was like the kind of spotting some of us get the day before AF rears. The kind that makes you think it might be time to start riding the cotton pony.
I am now 5dpo and still spotting. Yesterday was the worst. I seriously started to wonder if AF was going to rear really, really early. I didn't realize it until later, but I was so concerned, I was wound tighter than a banjo string. It wasn't until I snapped at my husband yesterday night and then broke down into tears that I realized just how much it was bothering me.
I have been trying to calm myself down (and so has my husband) by saying that maybe things were a little too much that last night we tried, and maybe we just really pissed off that repair site. I don't want to call my doctor (either of them) to ask if this is okay and normal because I feel like they will think I'm overreacting or being silly. That and I don't want to be that patient. Especially since I just went in for a u/s the week before last to see if we could figure out why my last cycle was so wonky. My doctor just called me back with those results on Thursday and I bombarded her with questions. It turns out, she thinks I might have ovulated off both sides this month. Wouldn't that be nice? Two chances!
I have also come to the realization that if I do get pregnant any time soon, I will most likely spot throughout the pregnancy because of a cranky uterus. When I think about that, it makes me wonder if I really am physically healed enough and ready for a pregnancy, so maybe I should call my doctors and ask them.
Sometimes trying to get pregnant month after month after month just plain sucks. Before you take that the wrong way, realize I had to try for a couple of years, complete with treatments, before I got my daughter, so I am no newbie to this TTC thing. I'm not one of those silly women who cries because I tried for three whole months and didn't get pregnant. I am an infertile woman who is crying because we weren't allowed to even think about trying for another baby until 3 months ago and now my body decides to be all jacked up again. Grrrr!
At any rate, I should find out tomorrow whether or not I even ovulated this month. For some reason the OPKs I've been using for the last two cycles are just as stupid as my last two cycles. Since I wasn't completely 100% positive on that "as dark as" line this month, I did a progesterone test on CD21. I only have 7 more days in my TWW--if I ovulated, that is. If I'm not pregnant, I will consider telling my dr's about what happened this month, as tomorrow will be the 6th day I've been spotting.
Infertility sucks!
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Nothing
I thought it had been a lot longer since my last post. It feels like its been ages, but really it has only been about 5 days. There has been absolutely nothing blog-worthy going on in my life lately. In fact, if you follow my other blog you know that I have been taking a break from the blogs. Not just the blogs, but everything that involves reading because my eyes have been driving me nuts lately. They keep trying to tell me they are strained, so I end up feeling like I'm going cross-eyed and then it makes the bridge of my nose ache. Weird, I know.
I did learn a valuable lesson over the weekend: Don't leave your front door open for extended periods of time.
When I got home on Friday my husband took my daughter out front to play in the tree swing. It was a pleasant day, so I left the door open. More because I wasn't really thinking about it than anything else. It stayed open for probably a good 30 minutes or so before I closed it because a storm front was blowing up from the south, which means high humidity. Yuck!
The next morning my husband got up with the baby to let me sleep in. As they were heading down stairs for breakfast, a little sparrow that had apparently flown in when the door was open the night before started to excitedly try to fly out the window in our stairwell in an attempt to escape. My daughter squealed with delight and my husband laughed. He opened the front door, and the bird eventually figured out how to get out of the house and back out to freedom.
Later that night we were all sitting in the family room watching TV after a long day of shopping and housework when my husband announced that there was an Anole (lizard) crawling across the floor. Sure enough, there was the little fella scuttering across my rug. We all laughed as my husband tried to catch the lizard. At one point, the silly thing ran up my husband's leg. He eventually caught him, and the Munchkin got to pet his head before he was put back outside to freedom just like the bird.
Other than that, life has been boring. Same old, same old. Waiting for ovulation, which apparently decided to come later this month than the last two months, but closer to when I normally ovulate.
So unless I have something really cool to update on, don't be surprised if I go quiet for a bit. It isn't because anything is wrong, its because nothing is going on.
I did learn a valuable lesson over the weekend: Don't leave your front door open for extended periods of time.
When I got home on Friday my husband took my daughter out front to play in the tree swing. It was a pleasant day, so I left the door open. More because I wasn't really thinking about it than anything else. It stayed open for probably a good 30 minutes or so before I closed it because a storm front was blowing up from the south, which means high humidity. Yuck!
The next morning my husband got up with the baby to let me sleep in. As they were heading down stairs for breakfast, a little sparrow that had apparently flown in when the door was open the night before started to excitedly try to fly out the window in our stairwell in an attempt to escape. My daughter squealed with delight and my husband laughed. He opened the front door, and the bird eventually figured out how to get out of the house and back out to freedom.
Later that night we were all sitting in the family room watching TV after a long day of shopping and housework when my husband announced that there was an Anole (lizard) crawling across the floor. Sure enough, there was the little fella scuttering across my rug. We all laughed as my husband tried to catch the lizard. At one point, the silly thing ran up my husband's leg. He eventually caught him, and the Munchkin got to pet his head before he was put back outside to freedom just like the bird.
Other than that, life has been boring. Same old, same old. Waiting for ovulation, which apparently decided to come later this month than the last two months, but closer to when I normally ovulate.
So unless I have something really cool to update on, don't be surprised if I go quiet for a bit. It isn't because anything is wrong, its because nothing is going on.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Self Preservation
A day or so before I went to see the Shrink, I was working through the thoughts in my head around trying for another baby. It feels as though I change my mind every 5 minutes.
My husband just got offered a new job over the weekend, and the potential is amazing. It makes a great deal of money and comes with some great perks. In addition to that, we have been working very diligently the last few months to get out of unnecessary debt, which will all be gone by Christmas. We have a time share that we bought on our second wedding anniversary that allows us to travel anywhere in the world. We've been married for 5 years now and have only used it once: to go to Cayman when I was 5 months pregnant.
With the end of our debt in view and his amazing new position, we were talking the other day about being able to actually use our timeshare. We will be able to afford to both financially and in paid time away from work. This then led me into a discussion, more with myself than my husband, about do we really want to try for another baby right now with this new option available to us? I mean, we have adapted well to being a family of three, and there is very little we want to do that we can't because we have a baby. Sure we don't want to take long 8-hour flights to Europe with a baby, but we can certainly handle a flight that is only a few hours to luxurious beach.
Add to that, Saturday night I took the Munchkin to a Pumpkin Patch with one of my best friends and her two little boys. My daughter was very well-behaved at the PP, but at dinner afterward, she was getting out her excess energy before bedtime, and I was constantly trying to keep up with her to keep her from making messes, throwing things, grabbing things she shouldn't, etc. On the drive home after dinner, I took a deep breath and exhaled as I thought, "Can I even handle more?" I seriously considered keeping us a family of three, but guilt instantly took over. Like that deep down, I have hurt and betrayed someone guilt. I said out loud, "Fine! I'll have more, but you have to make them come easier than this!"
As I thought more about my waffling, I realized I am in self-preservation mode. If I say I don't want any more, then I take the stress and the demand off of myself. I don't have to care if I don't get pregnant every month because I don't really want anymore anyway, right?
Ha!
Of course I want more! I want more more than anything!
In talking my feelings over with my husband he tells me his answer will never change: it is all up to me. He wants more, but he doesn't want more at the expense of what I want or don't want. If I can't handle going through the heartbreak of trying again and all of the stress and trauma it brings into my life, then he is okay with what we have. If I want more more than anything, he will be here to do his part. Above all, he will be here to support me no matter what I decide.
At the end of the conversation I told him that it didn't matter what I said from one minute to the next because we both knew I wanted more. He agreed. I also said that we had to try every month no matter how I felt about things that month because I didn't want to get 6 months down the road and regret that we hadn't been trying. He agreed. I'm not getting any younger, I have endo AND PCOS, and if I don't take the chance every month, I could regret it because the choice could be taken from me again. He decided not to answer to that one -- self preservation on his part.
The bottom line is, we will keep trying no matter what. In the meantime, I will keep seeing the Shrink and doing what I can to help make it happen.
My husband just got offered a new job over the weekend, and the potential is amazing. It makes a great deal of money and comes with some great perks. In addition to that, we have been working very diligently the last few months to get out of unnecessary debt, which will all be gone by Christmas. We have a time share that we bought on our second wedding anniversary that allows us to travel anywhere in the world. We've been married for 5 years now and have only used it once: to go to Cayman when I was 5 months pregnant.
With the end of our debt in view and his amazing new position, we were talking the other day about being able to actually use our timeshare. We will be able to afford to both financially and in paid time away from work. This then led me into a discussion, more with myself than my husband, about do we really want to try for another baby right now with this new option available to us? I mean, we have adapted well to being a family of three, and there is very little we want to do that we can't because we have a baby. Sure we don't want to take long 8-hour flights to Europe with a baby, but we can certainly handle a flight that is only a few hours to luxurious beach.
Add to that, Saturday night I took the Munchkin to a Pumpkin Patch with one of my best friends and her two little boys. My daughter was very well-behaved at the PP, but at dinner afterward, she was getting out her excess energy before bedtime, and I was constantly trying to keep up with her to keep her from making messes, throwing things, grabbing things she shouldn't, etc. On the drive home after dinner, I took a deep breath and exhaled as I thought, "Can I even handle more?" I seriously considered keeping us a family of three, but guilt instantly took over. Like that deep down, I have hurt and betrayed someone guilt. I said out loud, "Fine! I'll have more, but you have to make them come easier than this!"
As I thought more about my waffling, I realized I am in self-preservation mode. If I say I don't want any more, then I take the stress and the demand off of myself. I don't have to care if I don't get pregnant every month because I don't really want anymore anyway, right?
Ha!
Of course I want more! I want more more than anything!
In talking my feelings over with my husband he tells me his answer will never change: it is all up to me. He wants more, but he doesn't want more at the expense of what I want or don't want. If I can't handle going through the heartbreak of trying again and all of the stress and trauma it brings into my life, then he is okay with what we have. If I want more more than anything, he will be here to do his part. Above all, he will be here to support me no matter what I decide.
At the end of the conversation I told him that it didn't matter what I said from one minute to the next because we both knew I wanted more. He agreed. I also said that we had to try every month no matter how I felt about things that month because I didn't want to get 6 months down the road and regret that we hadn't been trying. He agreed. I'm not getting any younger, I have endo AND PCOS, and if I don't take the chance every month, I could regret it because the choice could be taken from me again. He decided not to answer to that one -- self preservation on his part.
The bottom line is, we will keep trying no matter what. In the meantime, I will keep seeing the Shrink and doing what I can to help make it happen.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Going Back
I called my Shrink today for the first time in months. I haven't seen or talked to her since April. I wasn't sure if I would be able to get back at TTC without having to see her, but I hoped. Not that I don't like her, cause I adore her. I just hoped I was strong enough after everything I had been through to go it on my own.
I find that as I am still slowly easing my way off of the antidepressants, some days are worse than others. Most notably after I drop my dose another 5 mg. I have come to know exactly what to expect and when to expect it when I step down another 5 mg. If my doctor's 6 week plan to get me off the meds had worked, I would have been off them by the middle of September, but as it stands, I am only at half my full dose. It has been so much harder coming off of them than I ever imagined it could be.
I dropped my dose just over a week ago, and I knew then that within 7-10 days, I would start to feel blue for no reason, discontent for no reason, and slightly lethargic. It was like clockwork. Sadly, it happened to coincide with the appearance of AF after a wonky cycle, which makes things really hard for me right now.
Last month I did so great at not getting my hopes up and staying really zen about the whole TTC working or not working. That is, until I spotted at 5dpo and then every other day until AF showed, and then I started freaking out and wondering why the hell my cycle decided to be stupid the second cycle back in the game. My Infertile started screaming and shaking the bars of the cell that has held her captive the last two years. She's scared, and so am I. I don't want her back out. I don't want to relapse into that person. I have no right to relapse into that person. There is a beautiful, perfect little baby girl sleeping soundly on the other side of the wall behind me.
But old habits die hard.
Some things are so ingrained in us through pain that I don't think they will ever go away. They have turned into ugly scars. Even with a lot of work, they will always still be there.
I have been having a hard time since AF showed. I blame a lot of it on the drop in my meds. But I am aching and scared. I want so badly to be pregnant. It seems like everyone else around me is pregnant, even the people who shouldn't be. I'm not talking about they are crack whores who shouldn't be allowed to have children, I'm talking about they have medical issues and were told to wait, but they went ahead anyway. I hate the feelings I have inside when I see that woman. My Infertile wants to hate her, but *I* can't. Still, I can't seem to help the fact that I don't want to be around her, or that I have to force a small and even a nice hello. It.Is.So.Hard.
So last night I went to my husband and told him I wanted to go back to the Shrink. He seemed a little surprised and asked if there was anything he could do. I told him I just feel really off balance right now, and that I don't want to mess up our chances of getting pregnant because I can't relax. Because I am starting to freak out that things are all messed up in there again. Because I can't help wondering if we did fertilize an egg the last two months, but it implanted in my scar tissue and didn't make it, and is that going to happen for the rest of my fertile life, and if so, is there anything I can do about it.
Then I freak out about some bad news I just heard about a college roommate of mine that I won't repeat here because I don't want any of you freaking out, but it freaks me out.
I am just plain freaking myself out, and I can't do that. Not with trying to get pregnant again. FINALLY being able to try for another baby. I have to be able to put all of this anxiety aside, and the bottom line is, once again, this is bigger than me. I can't do it alone. And while I appreciate the love and support of my husband, family, and friends, they can't help me either. They don't truly understand. They can't say the right things. They can't ask the right questions. I don't know if my Shrink can either, but she sure has helped me in the past, and right now, I'm floundering. I'll grab a hold of any life preserver thrown my way that will help me float and swim to shore.
I seriously love this blog. I could never in a million years write these things on my primary blog, and they just flow through my fingers here. I am always able to exactly express how I feel, and it is so soothing.
It is hard to find myself on familiar ground, on this familiar ground. I am trying so hard to let it go, but it has wrapped it's chains around me, and every time I think I'm free, it pulls me back in. I can't wait to sit on that leather couch and let everything flow next week. I really need this.
I find that as I am still slowly easing my way off of the antidepressants, some days are worse than others. Most notably after I drop my dose another 5 mg. I have come to know exactly what to expect and when to expect it when I step down another 5 mg. If my doctor's 6 week plan to get me off the meds had worked, I would have been off them by the middle of September, but as it stands, I am only at half my full dose. It has been so much harder coming off of them than I ever imagined it could be.
I dropped my dose just over a week ago, and I knew then that within 7-10 days, I would start to feel blue for no reason, discontent for no reason, and slightly lethargic. It was like clockwork. Sadly, it happened to coincide with the appearance of AF after a wonky cycle, which makes things really hard for me right now.
Last month I did so great at not getting my hopes up and staying really zen about the whole TTC working or not working. That is, until I spotted at 5dpo and then every other day until AF showed, and then I started freaking out and wondering why the hell my cycle decided to be stupid the second cycle back in the game. My Infertile started screaming and shaking the bars of the cell that has held her captive the last two years. She's scared, and so am I. I don't want her back out. I don't want to relapse into that person. I have no right to relapse into that person. There is a beautiful, perfect little baby girl sleeping soundly on the other side of the wall behind me.
But old habits die hard.
Some things are so ingrained in us through pain that I don't think they will ever go away. They have turned into ugly scars. Even with a lot of work, they will always still be there.
I have been having a hard time since AF showed. I blame a lot of it on the drop in my meds. But I am aching and scared. I want so badly to be pregnant. It seems like everyone else around me is pregnant, even the people who shouldn't be. I'm not talking about they are crack whores who shouldn't be allowed to have children, I'm talking about they have medical issues and were told to wait, but they went ahead anyway. I hate the feelings I have inside when I see that woman. My Infertile wants to hate her, but *I* can't. Still, I can't seem to help the fact that I don't want to be around her, or that I have to force a small and even a nice hello. It.Is.So.Hard.
So last night I went to my husband and told him I wanted to go back to the Shrink. He seemed a little surprised and asked if there was anything he could do. I told him I just feel really off balance right now, and that I don't want to mess up our chances of getting pregnant because I can't relax. Because I am starting to freak out that things are all messed up in there again. Because I can't help wondering if we did fertilize an egg the last two months, but it implanted in my scar tissue and didn't make it, and is that going to happen for the rest of my fertile life, and if so, is there anything I can do about it.
Then I freak out about some bad news I just heard about a college roommate of mine that I won't repeat here because I don't want any of you freaking out, but it freaks me out.
I am just plain freaking myself out, and I can't do that. Not with trying to get pregnant again. FINALLY being able to try for another baby. I have to be able to put all of this anxiety aside, and the bottom line is, once again, this is bigger than me. I can't do it alone. And while I appreciate the love and support of my husband, family, and friends, they can't help me either. They don't truly understand. They can't say the right things. They can't ask the right questions. I don't know if my Shrink can either, but she sure has helped me in the past, and right now, I'm floundering. I'll grab a hold of any life preserver thrown my way that will help me float and swim to shore.
I seriously love this blog. I could never in a million years write these things on my primary blog, and they just flow through my fingers here. I am always able to exactly express how I feel, and it is so soothing.
It is hard to find myself on familiar ground, on this familiar ground. I am trying so hard to let it go, but it has wrapped it's chains around me, and every time I think I'm free, it pulls me back in. I can't wait to sit on that leather couch and let everything flow next week. I really need this.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
I'm Trying
Have you ever in a Bitter Infertile moment just wanted to pee on every OPK and pregnancy test in your cupboard? It's like your way of giving the universe and your fertility the bird for gifting you with a visit from AF, instead of with a BFP. Well, I did, so I did. Except I only peed on 9 OPKs and no pregnancy tests.
You know what? It felt good to waste those buggars. Partly because they were in a 20-pack and I am pretty dang sure it was a bum pack, as I never got a positive test and I know I ovulated, but also because I have always wanted to do that out of anger and frustration for another failed cycle.
I did learn one thing from this past cycle, never waste your money on name brand OPKs. I have used name brand OPKs twice (not the same brand, mind you) and had horrible results with both. Neither of them worked. But those store-brand cheapies have never failed me. Not once.
If you read my other blog, you know that this past cycle was crazy and all over the place. I spotted at 5dpo, but the bitter, resentful infertile in me kept my feet on the ground and went straight for the worst possible scenario: it must be low progesterone. Crap.
Now, I am normally a very positive person, but when it comes to my fertility, that is where my exception lies, and it is simply because it feels like anything that can go wrong with me there, does. I realize this next statement sounds bitter, but I mean it in the most positive way possible. I am grateful that my infertility has robbed me of hope when it comes to getting pregnant because I never get my hopes up only to have them dashed when AF shows up.
So when I got my spotting, my first thought was low progesterone. For a fleeting and very brief moment, I thought it could be implantation bleeding, but that thought was snuffed ASAP. The spotting stopped completely by the next day... but the day after that, it was back. And so it went until two days before AF was due, spotting one day and not the next. Then two days before AF, it decided not to stop.
I ended up going into my OB trying to get some answers. She ran a bunch of blood work that all came back negative (AKA - BFN) or normal, and did a pap along with an internal exam. We're going to do a sono in a couple of weeks just to rule out fibroids.
It amazes me that no matter how "okay" I feel about things before AF shows, I am so bitter and hurt when she actually does. I go into each month thinking it doesn't matter if it doesn't work this time. When I'm in the TWW, I don't get my hopes up because I just can't. But somehow, when AF knocks on my door, I can't stand seeing pregnant women for the next couple of days. I can't handle pregnancy announcements. I flinch at all things pregnancy-related. I change TV shows off that have pregnant women in them.
It only lasts for a couple of days, and then I am back to myself. Happy for those who are expecting, excited for those who just got BFPs, unphased by anything pregnancy-related, and not even taking note of pregnant women on TV.
Those bitter feelings always catch me completely off guard. I didn't feel them in the moments when I just knew I wasn't pregnant, but as soon as my thoughts are confirmed, I turn into Dr. Je.kyl. Like a werewolf at a full moon. I would try to fight them, but why? They are natural, and they need to run their course. Not only that, but I know if I just let them come, I will be fine in a day or so.
I know that no matter how long it takes, I will have at least one more baby. That is where I find my comfort when I lose a cycle. It is only a matter of time before I get a BFP. Until then, I am sticking to store-brand OPKs and enjoying my laugh at peeing on 9 FR OPKs at once.
You know what? It felt good to waste those buggars. Partly because they were in a 20-pack and I am pretty dang sure it was a bum pack, as I never got a positive test and I know I ovulated, but also because I have always wanted to do that out of anger and frustration for another failed cycle.I did learn one thing from this past cycle, never waste your money on name brand OPKs. I have used name brand OPKs twice (not the same brand, mind you) and had horrible results with both. Neither of them worked. But those store-brand cheapies have never failed me. Not once.
If you read my other blog, you know that this past cycle was crazy and all over the place. I spotted at 5dpo, but the bitter, resentful infertile in me kept my feet on the ground and went straight for the worst possible scenario: it must be low progesterone. Crap.
Now, I am normally a very positive person, but when it comes to my fertility, that is where my exception lies, and it is simply because it feels like anything that can go wrong with me there, does. I realize this next statement sounds bitter, but I mean it in the most positive way possible. I am grateful that my infertility has robbed me of hope when it comes to getting pregnant because I never get my hopes up only to have them dashed when AF shows up.
So when I got my spotting, my first thought was low progesterone. For a fleeting and very brief moment, I thought it could be implantation bleeding, but that thought was snuffed ASAP. The spotting stopped completely by the next day... but the day after that, it was back. And so it went until two days before AF was due, spotting one day and not the next. Then two days before AF, it decided not to stop.
I ended up going into my OB trying to get some answers. She ran a bunch of blood work that all came back negative (AKA - BFN) or normal, and did a pap along with an internal exam. We're going to do a sono in a couple of weeks just to rule out fibroids.
It amazes me that no matter how "okay" I feel about things before AF shows, I am so bitter and hurt when she actually does. I go into each month thinking it doesn't matter if it doesn't work this time. When I'm in the TWW, I don't get my hopes up because I just can't. But somehow, when AF knocks on my door, I can't stand seeing pregnant women for the next couple of days. I can't handle pregnancy announcements. I flinch at all things pregnancy-related. I change TV shows off that have pregnant women in them.
It only lasts for a couple of days, and then I am back to myself. Happy for those who are expecting, excited for those who just got BFPs, unphased by anything pregnancy-related, and not even taking note of pregnant women on TV.
Those bitter feelings always catch me completely off guard. I didn't feel them in the moments when I just knew I wasn't pregnant, but as soon as my thoughts are confirmed, I turn into Dr. Je.kyl. Like a werewolf at a full moon. I would try to fight them, but why? They are natural, and they need to run their course. Not only that, but I know if I just let them come, I will be fine in a day or so.
I know that no matter how long it takes, I will have at least one more baby. That is where I find my comfort when I lose a cycle. It is only a matter of time before I get a BFP. Until then, I am sticking to store-brand OPKs and enjoying my laugh at peeing on 9 FR OPKs at once.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Crazy
There is a cat that lives three houses down from me who in the dim night light looks exactly like my kitty who just passed away. He has lived there the whole time we have been in our house, which is just over 2.5 years now. He has never let me pet him before. He usually looks at me for a minute and then runs away. I am not sure if that is because he is afraid I will let my dogs loose on him because that is what my husband does every time he sees him in our yard.
Before I go on, I have to say my husband lets the dogs loose because he thinks the cat defecates near our front door and makes our house smell like a litter box in the hot summer heat.
Back to our story.
Every time I saw the kitty, I had to do a double take because I knew he wasn't my cat, but he sure did look like him. It was the epitome of surreal, especially in the low night light.
Last night I was making banana nut bread while my husband was giving our daughter a bath and getting her ready for bed. Half way into putting flour in the mixer, I realized I didn't have enough and would have to run to the grocery store. I walked out the front door and stopped short.
The kitty who looked like mine was laying near the front of my husband's truck.
I just sat there and stared at him, frozen, while my brain tried to remind me it was the neighbor's cat. He looked me in the eyes for a second, and then gingerly walked over to me and started rubbing on my legs.
I leaned down to pet him and said my cat's name. He started to purr.
He looked exactly like my cat. His fur was the same texture and fell in the same way my cat's did when I would pet him. It was orange and cream in all the same places. His purr sounded exactly like my cat's. When my kitty was really in Lovely mode, he would almost chirp, or hum while he purred. This kitty did that exact same thing.
I sat down on the driveway, legs crossed, as I appreciate this cat. I talked to him as if he were mine, and I told my kitty I loved him and missed him. I rubbed him the way my cat liked to be rubbed, and scratch his neck where my cat liked to be scratched. He liked it too.
After a while I stood up to go. I thanked him for letting me pet him and told him to come see me again soon.
Isn't it amazing how God has a way of delivering things into our lives the moment we need them?
Before I go on, I have to say my husband lets the dogs loose because he thinks the cat defecates near our front door and makes our house smell like a litter box in the hot summer heat.
Back to our story.
Every time I saw the kitty, I had to do a double take because I knew he wasn't my cat, but he sure did look like him. It was the epitome of surreal, especially in the low night light.
Last night I was making banana nut bread while my husband was giving our daughter a bath and getting her ready for bed. Half way into putting flour in the mixer, I realized I didn't have enough and would have to run to the grocery store. I walked out the front door and stopped short.
The kitty who looked like mine was laying near the front of my husband's truck.
I just sat there and stared at him, frozen, while my brain tried to remind me it was the neighbor's cat. He looked me in the eyes for a second, and then gingerly walked over to me and started rubbing on my legs.
I leaned down to pet him and said my cat's name. He started to purr.
He looked exactly like my cat. His fur was the same texture and fell in the same way my cat's did when I would pet him. It was orange and cream in all the same places. His purr sounded exactly like my cat's. When my kitty was really in Lovely mode, he would almost chirp, or hum while he purred. This kitty did that exact same thing.
I sat down on the driveway, legs crossed, as I appreciate this cat. I talked to him as if he were mine, and I told my kitty I loved him and missed him. I rubbed him the way my cat liked to be rubbed, and scratch his neck where my cat liked to be scratched. He liked it too.
After a while I stood up to go. I thanked him for letting me pet him and told him to come see me again soon.
Isn't it amazing how God has a way of delivering things into our lives the moment we need them?
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
I Should Learn
I should learn to dread fall, rather than be excited for it. I should learn that the cooler temperatures and the changing colors of the leaves signals ominous times ahead. Why, you ask? Well, let me lay it out for you:
I blogged about the loss of my cat on my other blog. In it I talked about the time we shared together that spanned 14 years, yet felt all to brief. My cat was the most amazingly wonderful, lovey cat ever, and it has been so hard for me to let him go, even though he hasn't lived with me for the last 5 years. He has been living with my parents in the only home he has ever known.
Since this blog is all about expressing my feelings, I need to get some of my thoughts and emotions out about losing my "Mowie".
I was on the phone with my dad while the vet put my cat down. I got to tell him goodbye and that I loved him before he passed on. I sobbed like my heart was being rent in two, because it felt like it was. Shortly after my cat had died, I went home from work for the day. I was completely useless to anyone there afterward.
Usually when I get home, Sadie is always at the front door to great me. Maggie hangs back and waits for a bit before coming forward for some hello loves. But yesterday, as soon as I opened the door, Maggie was pushing her way in front of Sadie to get to me. Tears were streaming down my face, and I let the loud sobs come at will. I threw down all of my belongings and sat down on the floor where Mags curled up in my lap and whined gently with me.
I sat there for a long time, just letting the tears and the pain flow before I was overcome with the desire to find pictures of my Mowie to scan for the blog so I could write up a tribute. Even though I was already exhausted from my crying, I had to see pictures of my kitty.
As I sat there, looking at each photo, I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that I couldn't simply reach into the picture and pet his soft head, stroke his soft paw, or hear him purr. I would never cuddle him again.
After I had pulled a handful of pictures to scan, I decided I needed a nap. I had a headache from all of the crying, and I was exhausted. I fell into the most fitful sleep I have had in a long time. I woke violently constantly. I would have dreams I was falling, or that terrible things were happening to me.
When I did finally get up from my nap, I kept looking to my dresser where the ashes of my last dog are contained in a box. I kept expecting to see my cat's ashes there next to hers already, and I kept expecting to see a light next to it, like a lamp shining down on the two of them, but there is no lamp on the dresser. There never has been. It was like I could not form coherent thoughts through my grief.
The grief seemed to come at me in waves. One moment I would be fine, and the next I would just start sobbing unexpectedly. Shortly after my husband and daughter got home, we finished eating dinner and the tears started to gently roll down my cheeks. I looked over at my daughter, and I have never seen such a sad expression on her face before. She looked at me with concern as she said, "What's wrong?" My 20-month-old daughter was concerned for me and honestly asked me what was wrong. Not even just once, but multiple times. It looks like she will have my empathy. God bless her heart.
After dinner I forced myself to go on a walk. I didn't want to take the dogs, but I did because Mags had not left my side all day, and she deserved to enjoy a walk after keeping such a watchful eye on me. I walked so fast. Like I was trying to run away from something. I walked hard, as if I was determined to leave it behind me. But all along the walking trail, my grief stayed right by my side while my daughter kept calling, "Kitty, where are you?" She did that randomly, and on her own. That's right sweetie, "Kitty, where are you?"
That night I thought for sure I would fall easily to sleep, so for the first time in over a year, I didn't bother taking my melatonin. It was also the first night I was stepping down the dose of my antidepressants by another 5mg. I went to bed and read Twilight, while trying to temporarily take my mind off my grief once again. After one chapter, I decided to get some sleep. Usually I turn on the TV for a bit, and then set it on sleep mode so it will turn itself off after 20 minutes. But last night when I turned the light out after putting my book down, I sat in the cold, dark silence of my room with Mags snuggled up to me and the only sound being the sweet chirping of crickets. I didn't want to disturb the peace. I thought for sure I would drift off easily to sleep.
At 1:00, two hours after I had stopped reading my book, I was still wide awake, tossing and turning. I haven't had trouble falling asleep for years. Why now? What this night? I was exhausted. My head ached from all my crying. I just wanted to sleep. It eluded me and left me to my sadness. Finally I turned on the TV and set it to turn off in 20 minutes. Shortly after it turned off, I started to doze. As I did, I noticed tears were collecting in my eyes on their own.
I miss my kitty.
I love you puddlepuss.
- My first dog died the day of Thanksgiving when I was 8 years old.
- My next dog died the day after Thanksgiving when I was 22.
- My next dog died 5 years ago today, on October 5th, less than a month after I got married.
- Yesterday, my dad had to put down my 14-year-old cat.
I blogged about the loss of my cat on my other blog. In it I talked about the time we shared together that spanned 14 years, yet felt all to brief. My cat was the most amazingly wonderful, lovey cat ever, and it has been so hard for me to let him go, even though he hasn't lived with me for the last 5 years. He has been living with my parents in the only home he has ever known.
Since this blog is all about expressing my feelings, I need to get some of my thoughts and emotions out about losing my "Mowie".I was on the phone with my dad while the vet put my cat down. I got to tell him goodbye and that I loved him before he passed on. I sobbed like my heart was being rent in two, because it felt like it was. Shortly after my cat had died, I went home from work for the day. I was completely useless to anyone there afterward.
Usually when I get home, Sadie is always at the front door to great me. Maggie hangs back and waits for a bit before coming forward for some hello loves. But yesterday, as soon as I opened the door, Maggie was pushing her way in front of Sadie to get to me. Tears were streaming down my face, and I let the loud sobs come at will. I threw down all of my belongings and sat down on the floor where Mags curled up in my lap and whined gently with me.
I sat there for a long time, just letting the tears and the pain flow before I was overcome with the desire to find pictures of my Mowie to scan for the blog so I could write up a tribute. Even though I was already exhausted from my crying, I had to see pictures of my kitty.
As I sat there, looking at each photo, I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that I couldn't simply reach into the picture and pet his soft head, stroke his soft paw, or hear him purr. I would never cuddle him again.
After I had pulled a handful of pictures to scan, I decided I needed a nap. I had a headache from all of the crying, and I was exhausted. I fell into the most fitful sleep I have had in a long time. I woke violently constantly. I would have dreams I was falling, or that terrible things were happening to me.
When I did finally get up from my nap, I kept looking to my dresser where the ashes of my last dog are contained in a box. I kept expecting to see my cat's ashes there next to hers already, and I kept expecting to see a light next to it, like a lamp shining down on the two of them, but there is no lamp on the dresser. There never has been. It was like I could not form coherent thoughts through my grief.
The grief seemed to come at me in waves. One moment I would be fine, and the next I would just start sobbing unexpectedly. Shortly after my husband and daughter got home, we finished eating dinner and the tears started to gently roll down my cheeks. I looked over at my daughter, and I have never seen such a sad expression on her face before. She looked at me with concern as she said, "What's wrong?" My 20-month-old daughter was concerned for me and honestly asked me what was wrong. Not even just once, but multiple times. It looks like she will have my empathy. God bless her heart.
After dinner I forced myself to go on a walk. I didn't want to take the dogs, but I did because Mags had not left my side all day, and she deserved to enjoy a walk after keeping such a watchful eye on me. I walked so fast. Like I was trying to run away from something. I walked hard, as if I was determined to leave it behind me. But all along the walking trail, my grief stayed right by my side while my daughter kept calling, "Kitty, where are you?" She did that randomly, and on her own. That's right sweetie, "Kitty, where are you?"
That night I thought for sure I would fall easily to sleep, so for the first time in over a year, I didn't bother taking my melatonin. It was also the first night I was stepping down the dose of my antidepressants by another 5mg. I went to bed and read Twilight, while trying to temporarily take my mind off my grief once again. After one chapter, I decided to get some sleep. Usually I turn on the TV for a bit, and then set it on sleep mode so it will turn itself off after 20 minutes. But last night when I turned the light out after putting my book down, I sat in the cold, dark silence of my room with Mags snuggled up to me and the only sound being the sweet chirping of crickets. I didn't want to disturb the peace. I thought for sure I would drift off easily to sleep.
At 1:00, two hours after I had stopped reading my book, I was still wide awake, tossing and turning. I haven't had trouble falling asleep for years. Why now? What this night? I was exhausted. My head ached from all my crying. I just wanted to sleep. It eluded me and left me to my sadness. Finally I turned on the TV and set it to turn off in 20 minutes. Shortly after it turned off, I started to doze. As I did, I noticed tears were collecting in my eyes on their own.
I miss my kitty.
I love you puddlepuss.
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