Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Why is it so hard to lose a pet? I had the worst experience of my life this weekend, watching T-Bone run out in front of a car. I keep picturing it in my mind over and over. I was supposed to keep in safe and take care of him. He was my responsibility. He relied on me for everything- and I couldn't train him properly. He was in pain. Now he's gone. I failed him.
Pets are your children. Not for everyone, but for many Americans. Definately for myself & Art. We have connected with them on a personal and emotional level. We see human traits in them and imagine even more thoughts and feelings for them. We love them, and feel loved by them. We even refer to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy." This is a strong statement I'm making as a pregnant woman who has yet to hold my child in my arms, and I realize that many people may disagree with me, but losing a pet is like losing a child.
You know your pet isn't going to live forever. You expect them to go before you do. But knowing it doesn't make it easier. You have a being that is totally dependent on you. You teach them, train them, feed them, love them, discipline them and shape them into what they are. You make excuses for them and stand up for them. In our case, we baby them. We let the 80 lbs Pit Bull sit on our laps. We let him snuggle up to us on the bed. We kissed his cheeks when pushed his nose in our faces. I think that dependency creates a different kind of bond than you have with parents, grandparents, friends and siblings. Not only do you feel the sorrow of loss, the hole in your life, but you feel like you fucked it all up. It's not the dog's fault. He's just a dog for Christ's sake! So where does that leave the blame?
I love all 3 of my dogs. But T-Bone was special to me. I wanted Chloe. I wanted a dog. I hinted and begged and whined and demanded that we get a puppy. I adore Chloe. She's been with us for years, and she is our very best dog. She's the smartest, the best behaved, and the prettiest. T-Bone fell upon us by accident. I wasn't looking for a dog. But I did want a baby. I was starting to hint to Art and was getting knocked down. My biological clock was starting to tick... and I got a cute little puppy instead. He became my baby. And as he grew into the giant lug that he was, he stayed so sweet and lovable. He was the one who had to be by my side at all times. He was the one who wanted to lay beside me with his head on my chest and front leg on my stomach in hug-like fashion.
Sad dosen't even begin to describe how I feel. They call it heartache with good reason. When I think about him there is a pain and tightness in my chest. My heart is broken. I miss his companionship. I miss giving him kisses. I miss his head on mine when I wake up in the morning. I miss him bumping into my legs as he rushes past me. I miss him following me from room to room so that no matter where I turn he's in my way. I miss having him next to me on the sofa when I watch tv. I miss telling stories about silly things he's done. I miss walking into the bedroom and seeing him sprawled out on the pillows.
T-Bone is in my baby book. The "My Family" page seemed empty with just myself and Art listed. So under "My Sisters" I have Chole and "My Brothers" are T-Bone and Little Man. We think T-Bone would have loved our kid.
Pets are your children. Not for everyone, but for many Americans. Definately for myself & Art. We have connected with them on a personal and emotional level. We see human traits in them and imagine even more thoughts and feelings for them. We love them, and feel loved by them. We even refer to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy." This is a strong statement I'm making as a pregnant woman who has yet to hold my child in my arms, and I realize that many people may disagree with me, but losing a pet is like losing a child.
You know your pet isn't going to live forever. You expect them to go before you do. But knowing it doesn't make it easier. You have a being that is totally dependent on you. You teach them, train them, feed them, love them, discipline them and shape them into what they are. You make excuses for them and stand up for them. In our case, we baby them. We let the 80 lbs Pit Bull sit on our laps. We let him snuggle up to us on the bed. We kissed his cheeks when pushed his nose in our faces. I think that dependency creates a different kind of bond than you have with parents, grandparents, friends and siblings. Not only do you feel the sorrow of loss, the hole in your life, but you feel like you fucked it all up. It's not the dog's fault. He's just a dog for Christ's sake! So where does that leave the blame?
I love all 3 of my dogs. But T-Bone was special to me. I wanted Chloe. I wanted a dog. I hinted and begged and whined and demanded that we get a puppy. I adore Chloe. She's been with us for years, and she is our very best dog. She's the smartest, the best behaved, and the prettiest. T-Bone fell upon us by accident. I wasn't looking for a dog. But I did want a baby. I was starting to hint to Art and was getting knocked down. My biological clock was starting to tick... and I got a cute little puppy instead. He became my baby. And as he grew into the giant lug that he was, he stayed so sweet and lovable. He was the one who had to be by my side at all times. He was the one who wanted to lay beside me with his head on my chest and front leg on my stomach in hug-like fashion.
Sad dosen't even begin to describe how I feel. They call it heartache with good reason. When I think about him there is a pain and tightness in my chest. My heart is broken. I miss his companionship. I miss giving him kisses. I miss his head on mine when I wake up in the morning. I miss him bumping into my legs as he rushes past me. I miss him following me from room to room so that no matter where I turn he's in my way. I miss having him next to me on the sofa when I watch tv. I miss telling stories about silly things he's done. I miss walking into the bedroom and seeing him sprawled out on the pillows.
T-Bone is in my baby book. The "My Family" page seemed empty with just myself and Art listed. So under "My Sisters" I have Chole and "My Brothers" are T-Bone and Little Man. We think T-Bone would have loved our kid.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
NOBODY ASKED YOU!
WTF? Today THREE different people told me, at THREE separate times, that I wasn't "big" enough to be as pregnant as I am. Read the title: NOBODY ASKED YOU!
Here's how it went down- The first person (who has had kids of her own), asked when I was due.
"March 5th." I reply.
"Oh? How far along are you?"
"32 Weeks."
"You don't look big enough to be that far along."
Awkward pause.
I finally say, "Well, I am."
So this gets me a bit miffed. I've been thinking that I look pretty big. My doctor even said I measured a week big! But then it gets me thinking. What if some thing's wrong? I haven't felt him move as much lately. And I am feeling very weird. Well, I go to the doctor Friday, so I'll ask.
Fast forward a few hours. This time I hear: "I didn't even know you were pregnant!"
I am all astonishment. "Did you just think I was getting fat?"
"No, you didn't seem any different."
Gee, thanks. Either 1) You are an unobservant twat. 2) I've been totally exaggerating my size in my mind. 3) Something is wrong! So I'm back to worry mode. Scratch that: I'm in SUPER worry mode. He's not moving, he's totally not moving. Why am I feeling all this pressure? Shouldn't he be moving like crazy this far along? I had weird cramps the other day....
Then even later- "You don't look all that pregnant."
Now I'm just in a pissy mood. "Well I am." Bitch.
Hey World- feel free to keep your fucking thoughts to yourself. You are NOT an ob-gyn. You don't know what the hell you are talking about. How dare you spread your vile thoughts, getting me all worked up by insensitively throwing out these judgements? Screw you!
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Better Late Than Never (no, really)
I'm going to turn 32 before I pop this bad boy out. And even thought I KNOW that more people are having kids later in life (read: celebrities plastered all over the magazines), I still feel kinda old to be having my first. This is especially true when I think about how old I will be vs. how old Jackson will be. Eck. Like when he's 18, I'll be 50! WHAT? And I thought my parents were old.
But here is the upside: the big, big, big upside: everyone else has had kids already, and they have TONS of shit to give us! Whoo hoo! I've got an entire dresser bursting with clothes size birth-12 months. I've got 2 swings, toys, a diaper genie, wipes warmer, high chair and a freakin' pack n' play! Even though we still have to fork out the dough for diapers, the crib, changing table, and other sundries, we are making out like bandits!
But here is the upside: the big, big, big upside: everyone else has had kids already, and they have TONS of shit to give us! Whoo hoo! I've got an entire dresser bursting with clothes size birth-12 months. I've got 2 swings, toys, a diaper genie, wipes warmer, high chair and a freakin' pack n' play! Even though we still have to fork out the dough for diapers, the crib, changing table, and other sundries, we are making out like bandits!
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