That's the Thing About Blogging

We all know if you don't write it, then it never really happened. Right?

A month ago my sister came over with the kids...greeting card in hand and a heart full of self reproach. She was 6 weeks pregnant. My husband washed the dishes. He couldn't do or say anything but wash the dishes. I told her I would love this child as much as I love the other two, but I needed her to relax and enjoy this pregnancy. Her last pregnancy should be savored. Every moment.

She asked me to go to the ultrasound and try as I might I just couldn't put my big girl panties on and make it happen.  Thankfully, she was more than understanding. She told me I should blog about it because she knows it helps me. She told me if I wanted she wouldn't read just this post, or this month, or this blog. It was entirely up to me.

Now that I've had my breakdown I'm okay. I sat on the kitchen floor and sobbed. I let my stinky little puppy lick every tear from my face and my sweet husband pick me up, hold me and tell me our turn would happen.

I struggled. Again. I cried, got drunk, got belligerent and said some hateful things to God.

It took me a month to write this because I just had to get to a point where I could write it and not be completely hysterical. I don't want my little niece or nephew to look back and see that I didn't love them. I want them to look back and see that I understand they are the greatest gift God could ever give and I love them so much that I want to know how it feels to be a mommy and not just an aunt.

A Quiet House is a Sad House

Well, Gracie went in for her spay today. I love that dog in a way that is probably neurotic to most people. Jamie feels the same. There is a really sweet vet tech that has bonded with Gracie at all of her puppy visits and seeing her today and knowing she would be in the surgery made me feel better. I was okay dropping her off.

Coming home to a big, empty, quiet house is a different story. No wiggle butt here to lick my face and gaze at me with those big brown eyes. No sound of panting, or sniffing around. None of that funny little exhale sigh that I suspect only Boxers do. The depression hits me hard when I'm in an empty house. It makes me realize that much more how much she's done to calm my anxiety and focus my attention on something other than myself and my pain. This little puppy made me happy again when my heart felt so broken and I am so thankful for her and her little turned up snout.