mymackey : Saying Goodbye

So, yet again, it has been a while since I blogged last. Which, I know, in the blogging-world, is a huge no-no if you want to maintain your subscriber base and social media following. 

But, truth be told, I've been in a bit of a funk- I'll save that story for another day. 

But I felt the need to write today because Thursday, I euthanized my faithful companion of almost nine years. My dog Mackey, named after Vic Mackey from the FX show The Shield, had been my steadfast, loyal friend through the most challenging and simultaneously delightful years of my life. 

They say God places Angels among us. 

Call me nostalgic just because of the timing, but I have no doubt Mackey was that angel for me. Through a divorce, a separation, 3 children, then 4, a new marriage, and moving 8 times.... Mackey has been there (that is, when she wasn't running away- she was a winter breed you know ;)) 

We often called here "Eeyore" because of her pure apathy towards life. Unless life involved a squirrel. That was different... 

She was happy to sit around all day as I figured out this parenting thing, or just didn't want to get out of my jammies. And she was equally as happy to jump in the car and visit friends or family or go for a hike. She never woke us up at 3am to go out, she could go allll day if she had to, never had an accident in the house, and was far too apathetic to be destructive. Her only vice was food. She was a begger. And a food stealer if you weren't looking. And our under-the-table-vacuum, and dishwasher-pre-rinser. 

I went to get her with my first husband, when she was just 12 weeks. I printed out her picture online, filled out the applications, and went to pick up... her brother. Yep, that's right. I did NOT want a female dog. Sadly, her brother had already been chosen. So my then-husband and I looked around at the other puppies running amok and jumping on us and chasing other puppies or pieces of paper around this woman's garage... when I spotted the sister. The sister I said I didn't want. 

There she was: sitting in the corner, far too bored to be bothered by all this commotion. And what was that? She was missing a toe?? It looked like it probably needed surgery, and I was working at a vet. So that was it. We took home the lemon. 

After repairing her foot, spaying her, training her, and getting her used to her new routine of going to work with mommy every day- her many days at the vet as a greeter also suckered her in to being subject to an extra cautious mom- extra bloodwork, teeth brushing, daycare, and several ultrasounds. A combination of which soon proved that she had renal dysplasia, a congenital defect of the kidneys. It was unlikely she would live past the age of three. 

Seven years later... yep, seven.... we had what I suspected was nothing more then a little skin tag removed from her gums above her canine tooth. We sent it out for pathology (again, extra stuff because I worked at a vet) and it came back as fibrosarcoma, a form of cancer. 

A little over a year later, I noticed a lump on the opposite side of her gums, about the size of a nickel. Within weeks, it had swelled into her nasal cavity. We essentially hospice-d her here at home, with the help and guidance of her veterinarian, for the last several months. It became more and more difficult for her to breathe- and despite her normal days and attitude, normal appetite, and normal activity level- the nights were getting so hard on her- trying to breathe laying down. We knew it was time to say goodbye. 

She wouldn't lay down- which I knew she wouldn't.... I held her head and neck, and had one arm under her chest. As her body became heavier and heavier, I was able to easily scoop her onto my lap and continue to stroke her face and kiss her head. I reminded her what an amazing friend she had been. And that I hoped she would remember us too. 

We were blessed to have so many weeks to say good bye. 

I am afraid someday I will forget those last few minutes... and I hope I don't. I hope I don't forget that feeling of her resting her head on my shoulder.... the warmth and "Mackey" smell of that huge tuft of fur on the back of her neck..... her seemingly peaceful gaze into nothingness.... 

Fly away home, babygirl.... fly away home.... 

Mackey

March 22, 2005- Sept 19, 2013

<3 

I hope she has found her friends who have gone before her, and her brother or sister who would now be turning 2 in a few months. 

Have YOU ever lost a pet? What resources did you find helpful? Comment below, or find us on Facebook, twitter, or Pinterest. 

Too Beautiful for Earth: Heaven's Newest Angel Baby

Some say they are too beautiful for this Earth, others say they are so special God hand picks them as his Angels... however you phrase it, Heaven has it's newest Angel Baby... mine. 

The Doctor said I had been "struck by lightening twice"- I have now conceived twice while on the pill. And I get it, with so many women who struggle with infertility out there, how is it that someone like me conceives TWICE on the pill? I have no idea. First time I can chalk it up to perhaps imperfect compliance, this time-  I have no explanation. Nonetheless, it happened.

So just as anyone who thought they were being "safe" that finds out they're pregnant would do, I freaked. I had a complete and utter panic attack. I have a nine month old, I'm still on medication for PPD (the label for which says it can cause birth defects), I've been taking the pill, and drinking alcohol! EEK! So I go to the Doctor, who draws some blood... assures me I'm probably early enough where it won't matter... and talks me down of my stress-cliff. I go home more self assured and semi- ready to try and explain this to my husband.

Needless to say, by the next day the thoughts have sunk in and we're ready to dig in our heels and make our growing family fit into our tiny apartment, and even spent well into the night before chatting about names and the other idle chit chat that goes along with the beginning stages of pregnancy.

That's when we got the call.

I would need my bloodwork rechecked the following day at my OBGYN's office. When my OB called, the conversation started with "I am so sorry..."

What?! You're sorry about what???....

My HCG levels had dropped, and I was told if I hadn't already, I was having a miscarriage.

"This is not a viable pregnancy."  What does that even mean? Simple translation: Your baby is dead. Now I get it, to some this seems dramatic- especially for someone who was probably only 6- 8 weeks pregnant. But my baby's heart was beating. My baby was alive, and is now dead. 

The few family members we had told have attempted to console us with the ever popular "something just wasn't right", or "your body just wasn't ready", or "everything happens for a reason"- and while I can appreciate all of that, it still means my baby is gone.  And what makes me feel the worst, is that s/he was so tiny at such an early gestation.... I get a lump in my throat even just THINKING about typing this... that s/he probably got.... gulp..... flushed down the toilet.

I, for all intents and purposes, could have flushed my baby down the toilet.

This devastates me most of all.

But the biggest lesson I have learned from all of this, is that miscarriage is such a silent and lonely struggle. You don't tell anyone because you don't want people to think you're just seeking pity, but then everyone around you is going on with their daily lives, talking about the night out with friend A, or their trip to the bar with friend B, and you were just told your baby is dead. And no one ever knew your baby even existed.

How do you get support? Who do you talk to? You're certainly not going to go around asking 'hey, have you had a miscarriage? I just did and I'm not sure what to do next'.

I have at least found the following links which have either brought some peace/support to me, or I feel could help others:

My Forever Child: Memorial Jewelry

We Were Gonna Have a Baby, but we Had an Angel Instead

Bethany's Baby from Bethany's blog

And I have found much needed solace in my husband, and in our Church. And tonight, as I rocked my baby A to sleep, I held her a little tighter, kissed her forehead a bit longer, drew in a deeper breath of her warm baby smell, waited for her own breathing to even, and then laid her down and watched.... and then did what I haven't done in ... well, I think my whole life... I prayed. I prayed to whoever this God is, that my other babies stay safe. And that I wanted to thank Him SO much for the blessings I DO have in my life. My two existing, healthy, happy babies... my wonderful husband.. my beautiful step daughter... my family.... my friends...

and then I asked Him, pretty please, if He could just take tonight, to rock my baby to sleep...