Lent

For Lent I'm not giving up anything. Friends and family agree I've given up enough already. So I'm doing something for myself. I haven't been able to write in Charlie's journal or write up his birth story so that's what I'm going to do. For an hour a day or every other day, but no less often, I'm going to have time alone for reflection. I'll write in the journal, knit, think, reflect, meditate. It'll be time for me to just be.

Kelsey - That'll Do

My sweet Kelsey, more wolf than herder, left us to be with her mama Brandy and her friends Tigger and Murphy. I'm sure Brida is there, too, shaking her head at all the fuss they're surely making. Hopefully they're all playing with Charlie and watching over us. Kelsey was always a wild one, spirited and fun loving. She was a fierce protectress of her pack. We miss her very much.

She started to decline in health before Murphy left, then got better for a while to pick up the slack in protection duties that he left behind. Then after Tigger, she started to fade again, until we brought home Sophie. She then taught Miss Sophie Sunshine all she knew about being the alpha dog, and they snuggled a lot. Then at the end of November, we nearly lost her and found out she had laryngeal paralysis. We treated her with sedatives and changed our patterns to keep her calmer. We even put a sign up on the door that said, "Quiet please, baby sleeping" so anyone coming to the house wouldn't knock on the door. Then Saturday February 5th, she had a bad attack. We all sat with her and waited for the sedative to kick in. We stroked her haid and tried to keep her calm, and she was happy with us being there. The next day, we decided to not go knitting as we usually do. About an hour before we were going to get ready for mass, she had another attack. But this one was worse. We gave her the full dose and waited, trying to calm her, stroking her fur, but she couldn't seem to get really calm. I felt her heart was becoming erratic, and even thud really hard once, and I knew she needed more help. So we bundled her up to go to the vet's office but before we could even get her in the car, she was gone. There hadn't been enough time for the sedative to get into her bloodstream and work. Less than half an hour after it started, she was gone. Her attack was sudden and out of the blue with no excitement to trigger it. I guess it was just time for her to go home.

She was our fierce defender. I feel like she gave to us more than I gave to her. I didn't always appreciate her the way I should have. She worked hard to be our guardian. But she doesn't have to anymore.



You were a good girl, Kelsey. You were the best protector and worked hard to keep us safe. That'll do, girl. Go play with your Brandy now.

Bad Poetry

Before I heard your heart, you owned mine.
I dreamed about your face, and imagined your first smile.
I dreamed of the hours we’d spend nursing, your hand wrapped around my thumb.
I dreamed how you’d play with your brother and sister,
And the mischief you’d get into.
While I dreamed of our life together, you were already slipping away.
Before I knew you existed, you were already dying.
Some will forget you, but we never will.
You held on to our bond and grew happily, unaware of time running out.
It seems to some that you were just a dream.
But you were real to me.
You were real, and you were perfect,
And always will be.

Changes

So. New developments. It's riskier for me to continue than to let nature take it's course. So we're inducing on Wednesday. I've worked out the arrangements with the grad school and my fellowship, so now I just need to make memorial service arrangements. There's an interesting article that Michael found to reassure us (and rebut anyone who might question our decision) on the moral, spiritual, and philosophical implications of our decision. It was very hard for us to make this decision, but we must do what is best and has the least risk to my life. Charlie won't live more than an hour whether he's born now or at 30 weeks. Even the full life support of my body will be insufficient for him all too soon, and it's not helpful to him or us to put my life at risk. We'll have a memorial service and he'll be cremated. After that, I'll have time to heal physically and to begin to accept his death.

No More New Year's

We aren't going to be celebrating New Year's anymore. As an astrophysicist, I can't get over the arbitrariness of it. It's changed so many times since the beginning of written record and is different in different cultures even now. Nothing changes. The celestial bodies don't line up or hit any special spots in their orbits or in relation to each other, and their movements don't change. I don't understand the appeal of celebrating the "unknown to come". I know some of what's to come, and some is good and some is going to be horrible. So why should I celebrate 2011? My son is going to die. Michael will *hopefully* get a job and we will move. I will graduate and rejoin the family and start looking for jobs. So good things and one horrible thing that will make the arbitrary calendar year of 2011 so horrible that nothing good can salvage it. So we're going to celebrate our blessings and take comfort in the fact that life goes on and things change no matter what. No matter how bad things are, things will change and get better. No matter how good things are things could change and get worse or better. But we have each other and we'll be okay, no matter what numbers are on the calendar.

This Year Ends With Many Promises for the Coming Year

Let me sum up the year in chronological order of events:

• Murphy died.
• Tigger died.
• Kristin visited.
  
• I got pregnant.
• We started applying for jobs.
  
• Kelsey nearly died and was diagnosed with laryngeal paralysis, but which is treatable with sedatives when she gets overexcited.
• We found out the baby is a boy, Charlie.
• We found out Charlie will die just before or after birth sometime before term.
• We decided to delay my graduation because there's no way I can get everything done given the new circumstances.

So basically this year has seen 2 deaths, a near death, and the promise of death in the New Year.

We're doing all we can to handle everything, but it's very hard. The latest blow, that Charlie will not live, has been absolutely devastating. He has a condition which is "incompatible", isn't inherited or caused by anything I did or didn't do, and is very rare. The doctor said that after Jamie's CDH, it's like we survived a plane crash to be hit by a drive by shooting. That does bring me some solace. We've done what we can to "make lemonade" and make decisions that we think are in everyone's best interests. I've decided to let the pregnancy end naturally (which is likely around 30 weeks but perhaps as late as 36 weeks) rather than inducing early. The doctors felt they could do so without much risk of a uterine rupture, but I'm unwilling to take any chances that might, at worst, put my life at risk, and, at best, put my ability to home birth future children at risk. Honestly, I'm happy to give him all I can while I can since I won't be able to do anything else for him. I just want him to know, somehow, that he is loved and very much wanted and will be desperately missed. The other decisions have been to not have him at home, to have a priest there to baptize him (if he lives to birth), to have a memorial service, and to have him cremated. I've also decided to either take some form of leave, or at least to ease off of work until after I've had a chance to recover from the birth. I'm hoping to still be able to defend in the Summer or as soon as possible in the Fall. There are logistics of what to do when Michael has to start his job, where ever that will be, but we need to know where and when before we can really plan that. I dived into knitting to help me cope as soon as we realized there might be a problem. And it's been very helpful since then. My Summer Mothers have been very helpful and supportive as have others on Ravelry, like the Three Irish Girls group. But as I sit here, saying good bye to what was a really painful year, I have no hope for this coming year. There will be good things, and some of them very good, but there will be one very awful thing that will forever make 2011 one of the worst years ever. We will do what we can to make life better for each other and for Jamie and Renna, and we will all be okay.

Hello Sophie

April 10th we brought a ball of love into our home. Sophie is a light-medium colored golden retriever. We decided after losing our beloved Murphy and beloved Tigger that we needed the love of another dog to help us heal. Kelsey has really perked up since we got Sophie. She's continued to have problems with vestibular syndrome having 2 episodes since Tigger died. But she's going off of a longer course of steroids now and is doing okay. Alex was a bit miffed at first and is still jealous sometimes, but he seems to be coming around to her, too. At her recent visit to the vet for second shots, Dr. Vogl proclaimed that she had the perfect temperment. She's loving and calm and snuggly. She is wonderful. She loves to sleep in Mama's closet, but also loves sleeping with Jamie. She's teething and likes to nibble on Jamie and Renna, but they are learning to push her away and let her know that's not acceptable. She's a good girl.