A New Eddie

So much has changed since my last post nearly two weeks ago.

It was very hard to let my dear Millie go, but it really was time. For a few days I felt as if there was a giant hole in my chest and was about to fall apart completely, but I never did. Somehow I began to heal up and feel whole again.

I think that healing was due in large part to our remaining beagle Eddie. Because of Millie's age and inability to control her bladder, Millie and Eddie had been living in our very large laundry room with lots of outside time and occasional time in the home--limited and highly supervised time in the home. My husband and I had to mop up Millie's messes daily. The cleaning took up to an hour and we spent a lot of money on gloves, cleaning detergents, swiffer pads, training pads, and paper towel. When Millie passed, Aaron and I agreed that Eddie should spend more time in the home. After a few too many beers one night, Aaron made the decision that Eddie should no longer sleep in the laundry room but in our home--specifically, in our bed.

Beagles are generally not aggressive dogs, but my beagles have been particularly sweet. I had forgotten just how sweet and affectionate they were.

Eddie has lost his best friend. I got him as a pup and Millie acted as surrogate. He always looked to her for comfort and affection, and she tolerated him snuggling up to her and tagging along. I think he's been in a bit of a mourning period, just as I have been. I think we are getting through this together. Since her passing, he has been my shadow in the house. He watches me do dishes from a corner of the living room couch and sleeps tight up against my side each night.

My little Millie girl

Millie
July 9, 1997 – March 3, 2011

My mom, my brother Mike, and I adopted Millie from the humane society on July 9, 1998. She was a favorite of the workers and volunteers because of her sweet disposition and adorable face.  She had been found wandering along the side of the road and had already been transferred from another shelter because no one had wanted to adopt her. We thought she was perfect! She was small, pretty, attentive, and quiet.

It only took a few days for our family to realize that Millie had several issues and severe separation anxiety. She had not been housebroken, had been abused by her previous owners—she still has a b. b. bullet in her ear and in her rib cage—and destroyed the house whenever we left. She was quiet because someone had obviously beaten the bark out of her and hit the floor whenever anyone talked above a whisper or raised their arm. This was more than my mom was willing to handle, and she called the humane society about bringing her back. They said they would have to euthanize her. I pleaded for Millie’s life, and my mom let her stay.

She quickly became my dog—I often walked her or took her to the dog park in Appleton, she slept with me, and I was the person she looked for whenever the door opened. Millie’s condition improved with medication, training, and age.

Millie was not a good dog in that she was a slave to her nose. She couldn’t be unleashed without taking off for hours. She had terrible table manners. No one ever fully trusted her on carpeting. Dog training classes were completely lost on her. We had to build a wooden cabinet to keep her out of the garbage.

Millie was a good dog in that she was always friendly, rarely barked, and always came back home. She never so much as snipped at my toddler son in his entire life. Someone was able, with an enormous number of treats, to teach her to roll over and to shake. She never chewed furniture or shoes or anything else a dog isn’t supposed to chew on. She acted as surrogate mother for our cats Bryce and Maddy and even helped Maddy raise her kittens. Our beagle Eddie adored her and she graciously tolerated him. She fought cancer and won.  She was gentle and loving. When I was 18, she repaid her debt to my mom and saved my life. I literally would not be here today were it not for Millie.

Though it breaks my heart, Millie’s time has come. She no longer got up to greet me. She lost control of her bladder and there was blood in her urine, and her fur was beginning to fall out. In my selfishness, I neglected the fact that my little girl was in pain for far too long. At approximately 3:30 yesterday afternoon, I let my little girl go.

A special thank you to my mom for the financial funding to give Millie the best possible end. Thank you, Mom. Without it, I’m not sure I would have had closure. She went gracefully and humanely.

18.5 weeks and making a turn towards the better

Yesterday, Sunday, Aaron and I decided to try a new church. It's a small church in a rural area, which is perfect because we live in a rural area. Every other Sunday the service begins at 10:30 and that's also perfect, given my weekend occupation. We'll need to go back a few more times to make a decision. It seems like the kind of church I could get involved in, but I thought that about my last church, too. I'm hopeful, though. It was good to sing hymns again and to share in my faith.

Saturday, Aaron and I took Evan to the Tripoli Shrine Circus in Milwaukee. My grandpa is a shriner and was able to provide us with tickets for free. The seats were great, and we were even escorted to them. Due to Evan's nap on the way to the show, he missed lunch and was suddenly ravenous as soon as the show started... or as soon as he spotted the treats of the children around him. We got up three times during the first half of the show to go to the bathroom, get a snow cone, and buy popcorn. 

He really enjoyed his snow cone!

I offered to buy Evan a light up sword or glow stick, but he politely declined... Twice! The only souvenior he was interested in was the $3 giant circus balloon on a stick, shown here. He fell asleep holding it that night, played with it for two hours in his room by himself on Sunday morning, and then cried his little eyes out when he accidentally popped it.

Evan's second favorite act in the show was the elephant act. His grandmother had told him that there would be elephants at the circus and when they didn't show up during the first act, he quickly lost interest. There was lots of cheering as the elephants made their way out! 

I wasn't able to get a picture of Evan's favorite act, which were the motorcycle tricks. He actually stood up from his chair, yelling and cheering.

Finally, I found a Bible verse that I've been focusing on for a few days now that have really been helping me to get through. Psalm 43:5 Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God. All of Psalm 43 is inspiring, but I clung to this last verse with every fiber of my soul. It spoke to me on a level that  no other verse has ever spoken to me. 

Between this verse and the start of the search for a new church, something in me awoke. I realized how terribly selfish I've been--how unloving towards my husband, how ungratel for the gift of motherhood, and how untrusting and disobedient I've been towards God. I spent much of my day cleaning but in meditation and prayer. Yesterday, I even told one of our close friends about the pregnancy and agreed to begin to tell others in the next week. I think I can begin healing now.

I've been inspired!

I hate to post more than once a week, but a couple of things happened.

First, I got nosy and started reading through other people's blogs and realized there are a lot of public blogs out there--men and women just like me who are willing to share their thoughts and feelings.

Then I found a blog written by a mother of two who was daring enough to publicly discuss baby blues.

The wheels in my head started turning, and before I knew it, I was reading over my own private blog and realized what a disgusting, depressing mess I've become. It's time to get my stuff together, deal with my baby blues, and move on!

Then I decided to make my mess become public because... well, I guess I want other people out there to know that they're not alone.

So this private diary is now becoming a public blog in which I deal with the crap (my son's autism and my pregnancy blues), share in the joy (and though I haven't shared it yet, it's there!), and just make sure that I keep writing (because I've always dreamed of being an author).

17.5 weeks

Last week, I finally broke down and called my doctor. I couldn't stop crying. I was beginning to hate and resent Aaron and the pregnancy (not the baby). Instead of accepting substitute jobs, I would sit at home crying, watching movies, sleeping. I refused to do any housework. When I was at work, I was snippy, moody, angry... He gave me a prescription. I feel well enough that the crying and mood swings have stopped. I don't want to feel euphoric or empty or blindly happy. I feel better and sound better now.

I had a doctor's appointment on Valentine's day. The heart rate was 165 and sounded good and strong. 2 lb weight gain last month for a total of .5 lbs lost so far in the pregnancy. We scheduled an ultrasound for March 14. I've been feeling movement and last week, I saw movement externally.

16 weeks

I haven't been happy.

I'm just a mess today

So... instead of subbing today, I'm spending the first day of my second trimester on the couch, crying. I'm drowning in an ocean of fear, anxiety, grief, and paranoia.

Yesterday, I was notified by Evan's case worker that his insurance company does cover his therapy. Getting WEAP and my case worker to cooperate is... difficult. I fear that we are going to drown in the debt of this and will have to declare bankruptcy. His waiver funds should be able to cover some of the co-pay, but my fear is: how much? This is a bad time to be expecting a baby.

In addition, I'm still not quite ready to tell the world that I'm expecting. And what I've sort of decided is that I just don't want to tell everyone. I want it to be a quiet affair. We'll tell those that we want to tell, but I don't see any need for a public announcement. I mean, people are going to figure it out after a while.

I'm getting upset because I'm getting bigger. I'm not gaining weight, but my belly is getting bigger. My brother--I told him yesterday because Aaron and I figured after he spent the weekend, he has  to know by now anyway!--said he could tell I'm losing weight but that I'm pregnant based on certain protuding parts. I hate being pregnant. I mean I HATE being pregnant!!!!  I don't hate the baby, but I hate being uncomfortable, getting bigger, getting stretch marks, morning sickness, vaginal discharge, constant badgering by those who know or suspect, having to buy new clothes and not having the money to, worrying about where to put a baby, and these gosh darn mood swings!

These constant headaches are an awesome treat! Let me tell you! I think it's time to call my doctor.