evolution

No, I'm not going to engage in the whole "did we crawl out of the ooze or did god snap his fingers and create us" debate (although I side with science on that one). I'm talking about a different kind of evolution here - the evolution from single woman to married woman to mother.

There are many aspects of my job that I love - the days when I get to play with puppies and kittens, and love on patients needing some tlc. The days when everything goes right and pet owners agree with recommended treatment plans and everyone goes home happy.

Then there are the awful awful days - euthanasias of beloved pets suck, as do people who neglect and/or abuse their pets, or refuse treatment because of cost (and then get into their shiny luxury cars to drive home). People who expect me to diagnose their animal over the phone, and then bitch me out when I tell them they need to come in for an exam, suck.

And then there are the days, like today, when I'm slapped in the face with the reality of my own non-evolution.

You see, somewhere in the woman-wife-mother evolution lies the jump into pet ownership. Perhaps it's just couples wanting to test the water and try out a pet before they try for baby. Maybe people have been waiting to get "settled" before they tackle pet ownership. But time after time, I see it. The single girl with a boyfriend and a dog announces the name change, the evolution into married woman. Months later, she comes in with her gloriously swollen belly, looking for advice on the seamless integration of baby into the family. More months later, and she comes in with kid and pet, looking exhausted but marvelling over how well the pet and baby get along.

I had one of those days today - a woman with a hugely pregnant belly and a sick cat. We've been seeing a lot of her lately, as they've been trying to get all of their furry charges updated and checked out before the new arrival wreaks havoc on their lives. Every time I see her, I see how she's grown. I picture her baby, safe and snuggled inside her, and wonder why I can't have that.

I realized, as I looked at her today, how stuck I really am. I want to evolve into a mother, I do. I'm ready for it. I was ready three years ago, when I took this job on a part time, temporary basis - you know, until I popped out a kid and quit to be a stay-at-home mom. It's turned into a full time, permanent for now job. And while I woke up today loving it and looking forward to the day, I left hating it. But really, I hate the road my life has turned down. I hate being stuck. I feel like a little kid, always looking toward the future, just wanting to get where I'm going.

Oh, and Wednesday would be my due date for cletus, the babe who lived in my tube. The only one of my brood to have actually developed, only in the wrong place. I cannot believe I just realized this now. And I get to have root canal part 3 that morning, instead of getting things ready for cletus.

I'm thinking there will be some wine consumed Wednesday, even if I have to suck it out of my shirt because I can't get my numb lips to work appropriately on a glass. To hell with Operation No Regrets.

Show and Tell: Big John's Story

Thanks to Mel at Stirrup Queensfor hosting the Show and Tell. I am a Show and Tell first timer, so I hope I've done everything correctly :)

This is my big dog, Big John McCarthy. We just celebrated a year of having him in our home, so it's a wonderful time to tell his story.

One Saturday, just over a year ago, a client of the vet clinic I work at called, frantic, and said she had just picked up a stray and wanted to have him checked out. At the time, the Des Moines area was literally under water. The rivers were out of control. She had been on one of the bridges, watching the water rise, when she noticed a dog running from person to person, unleashed and uncollared. A group of men took an interest in the dog, so she (being the dog lover she is) went over to ask if he belonged to one of them, and why he was unleashed. She noticed that they were quite inebriated, and belligerent. They told her that no, he didn't belong to any of them, and that they could take care of him by tossing him into the raging river.

The client, who is a tiny little unassuming lady, told them where to go and then led the dog to her car and promptly to our clinic. I was working that day, and he immediately stole my heart with his beautiful eyes and serious face. His initial health check was fine, and the client took him home until she could get him neutered and find him a permanent place, since she had too many dogs to consider keeping him. I immediately went to work on Hubby, who wasn't sure that it was the right time to add another pooch to our family.

Fast forward to the scheduled day of his neuter: we ran all of his pre-anesthetic testing, and discovered that he was infected with heartworms. The neuter was cancelled, we were all devastated, but I knew then that I had to keep him. A fan of the underdog, I am. Hubby came to see him that day, and melted. We took him home and began his treatment shortly thereafter.

Treatment for heartworm disease is excruciatingly painful for the dog. Our hearts broke as we watched him writhe and moan in pain. It was clear that he had belonged to someone, as he knew basic commands, which made us so angry - heartworm preventative is cheap! There is no reason not to have your dog on heartworm meds - after all, if you can't afford the vet, you can't afford the pet.

He is a wonderful dog - naughty and mischievous, but sweet as can be. He is a mama's boy, and wakes me up with a cold nose to the ear every morning. He keeps us on our toes, and keeps our other dog entertained. Big John has taught us so much about unconditional love, and we are so grateful to have him in our lives. I love him so very much, it's scary.

Not surprisingly, he hates the rain. As you can see from the picture, though, he loves snow. Which is great, considering where we live.

ETA: While I was writing this post, he got into a trash bag Hubby left on the deck and had a feast. It's a good thing he's cute (that goes for both Hubby and Big John!)

Oh, and I obviously can't read, as I posted my name and not my blog name on the Show and Tell page. Sorry.

sadness smackdown

The emotional rollercoaster I'm on reminds me a little of a very special phenomenom in the veterinary world, the cuterebra. Basically, cuterebra are fly larvae that become embedded in an animal's skin. They can be difficult to treat, because they like to pop their heads in and out (Hello, world!)and hide, and they're difficult to prevent. Today, my grief cuterebra (let's call him Cutie) poked his little head out and ruined my day.

I was doing fine, even as of this morning, when I wrote about feeling glad to be empty-wombed (at least this month). But then I found out that an old friend's baby has been born, and that pesky Cutie poked his head out to say hello and remind me that, no, I am not normal/healthy/fertile at all. I want to be happy for them - she has had cancer and gone through treatment, and so this baby is a miracle baby. But all I can think about right now is how I want my own miracle, dammit. I'm so fucking sick of being happy for everyone else, or feeling guilty about not feeling happy for everyone else. I'm so fucking sick of these unexpected sadness smackdowns, just when I'm doing well. I'm so fucking sick of having the kind of life that builds character.

(Wow I just realized that I dropped a lot of f-bombs right there. Sorry.)

I wish that I could dig down deep into my brain with a nice long pair of tweezers and pull that Cutie out. And stomp on him. And crush his pasty little face.

Sigh.

anticipating the dread

Can you grieve for someone who only existed for an instant? Whose existence was proven only by pink lines that faded far too quickly? Am I grieving for them, my nameless, faceless brood, or for the loss of the life I had imagined?

After our first loss, in December of 2005 (holy shit - a lifetime ago!) I stopped allowing myself the luxury of anticipation of baby. What I did feel, in abundance, with each subsequent pregnancy, was dread: how will this one end? how painful will it be? how long will the depression last afterwards?

Part of my learning how to be happy - and for me, happiness is a skill set that needs to be built and added onto and regularly maintained - has been learning to tune out the destructive voices in my head. You know, the ones that keep a running tally of all of the babies who have been born to friends and family since we started our journey, or remind me of how old each particular kid would be had they lasted, or imagine how I would look pregnant if I were capable of staying pregnant.

It's a coping mechanism, surely, to build up this wall around my tender parts. I can't help but feel guilty though - maybe if I had named those babies, loved them more, just been better in general, they would have stuck around. The guilt pisses me off immensely, too, because it's proof that part of my psyche is stuck way back in an early stage of grief. I want to be done with it, please. (So that we can try again, and I can get pregnant again, and start the whole stupid cycle over again.)

I've been really distracted lately thinking all of this through, and it shows. While I do consider myself to be a pretty smart cookie, I've been doing/saying some dumbass things lately. Consider the following:

Several weeks ago, I drove down to Kansas City, MO for a work meeting. Since I am fairly new to the midwest, I find Iowans' attitudes towards Missouri quite funny. The old joke is that if the southernmost county in Iowa were to become part of MO instead, the IQ of both states would jump. Basically, many Iowans think that people from Missouri, or anywhere near Missouri, are intellectually challenged. (I'm sorry if I offend anyone from MO with that.) On the drive home, I observed what I thought was an interesting confirmation of this. The conversation I had with Hubby when I got home is below:

Me: So, dude, guess what I noticed on the drive home?

Hubby: What? (trying to play his xbox, or shall we say, crackbox, and obviously distracted)

Me: Well, I noticed that there's a ton of roadkill in Missouri. I mean, everywhere and every species of animal. Literally, like every 5 feet.

Hubby: So? (still distracted)

Me: Well, as soon as I crossed the state line into Iowa, the roadkill disappeared. Virtually none.

Hubby: And?

Me: And, I'm wondering if that just proves that even the wildlife in Missouri is dumb. (I thought this was fucking brilliant!)

Hubby: (setting down the game controller, even! and looking at me with real concern on his face) Sweetie, all that means is that we spend the money to clean it up. Are you okay?


Duh. The simplest explanation.


Or another fabulous display of my intellect:

I had a friend's Olde English Bulldogge at work with me (I work in a vet's office, if you don't know already) and was walking him around lunch time. He happens to be a very sweet dog who loves people - adults, kids, babies - and he's very handsome, so he attracts a lot of attention. Of course, a lady stopped and wanted to pet him. I was focusing on the dog, not really looking at the lady, while the following conversation occurred:

Lady: Oh what a sweet boy! He just loves people, doesn't he?

Me: (still looking at the dog, and trying to convey that he likes kids too, because some dogs don't.) Oh yeah. Any shape, any size.

At which point I looked up and noticed that this lady just happened to be large. Quite large. And embarrassed. And I had no idea what to say to explain myself.

Open mouth, insert foot.

The kicker is that I come from a family of large people, and I truly would never ever be so mean to someone about anything, including their size. (Well, intentionally, at least.)

stupid tumor

It's been a truly rotten week. Last Thursday, my little dog was diagnosed with a tumor, and had surgery to remove it on Friday. I've been on pins and needles waiting for the pathology report to come back so we know if it's an aggressive tumor or a non aggressive tumor. She's had lots of restrictions on her activity while the incision heals, and for an active dog, and an active dog's owner, that sucks.

On top of dealing with the dogs and keeping them from playing, keeping the little dog medicated, etc, Hubby left for Europe on Sunday. Mother's Day. Blah. He didn't even acknowledge it, nor did anyone else (except one facebook friend who sent me a flower. As trivial as that was, it made me cry). I keep telling myself it's just a silly holiday invented by those evil Hallmark executives to sell more cards in their scheme for world domination, but it's futile. I wish I were a mother with an actual, live baby. I wish this didn't suck so much.

I've been really teary this week, which is odd because it's the wrong point in my cycle for emotional breakdowns. If I've learned anything during these long years of trying to create spawn (in my own evil quest for world domination!) it would be that when the tears start flowing, I need to focus on taking care of myself, because I will push my own needs to the back burner and that just makes everything worse. So I've been making sure to run every day. Eat healthy foods. Get lots of sleep. Still, I can't wait till Hubby comes home and I can have a nice long hug, and a shoulder to cry on.

Blah.

it's only life, after all

Closer To Fine by the Indigo Girls

I'm trying to tell you something about my life
Maybe give me insight between black and white
The best thing you've ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously, it's only life after all
Well darkness has a hunger that's insatiable
And lightness has a call that's hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it, I'm crawling on your shore.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There's more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

I went to see the doctor of philosophy
With a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knee
He never did marry or see a B-grade movie
He graded my performance, he said he could see through me
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper
And I was free.

(chorus)

I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m.
To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend
I woke up with a headache like my head against a board
Twice as cloudy as I'd been the night before
I went in seeking clarity.

(chorus)


We go to the bible, we go through the workout
We read up on revival and we stand up for the lookout
There's more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

I'm starting to think that I really might be fine. At some point. Probably in the future. But the light is there, and I'm really digging life right now. I know this can't last long, this lightness of spirit, but for now, I'll do my happy dance, and ignore the insatiable hunger of darkness.

I know I'm starting to claw my way out from the darkness (without the aid of therapist lady, with whom I've broken up, or the pharmaceuticals she recommended, I might add). Last evening, Mom and I were chatting when she said, timidly, "Can I tell you something?" The alarm sounded in my head: Preggo Alert!! Preggo Alert!! Beware of crashing mood!

And I'm not going to lie - I did shed a tear or two when we hung up the phone, mostly because the last four people we know who have gotten knocked up have lost to me, hands down, when I played the "Who Would Make a Better Mommy?" game. This friend is no exception (and I still feel like an asshole just for playing). And it is so, so frustrating. Hubby and I could afford for me to stay home with a baby. We're ok financially. Our relationship is good. And yet, all of the preggos we've known lately have been in rough financial spots, or rough relationships, or both. It's hard not to compare myself to everyone else and wonder why it's so easy for them, and so tough for us.

There weren't too many tears shed, though. After all, I really wouldn't want to be this friend: preggo with number 3, Hubby unemployed, living in an expensive city, relying on resentful family for help. No sir! I feel kind of like myself again - for now, I'm going to enjoy my life. Someday, we'll have a family, and I just have to accept that I don't yet know how crooked the line will get before it takes us there.

Side note: reason 4,376 why you shouldn't envy my job: I had to work today. We had a surgery patient, a lab puppy who was spayed yesterday, waiting for her owners to come pick her up. My coworker had already walked and fed her, so I went up to her cage to say good morning and give her a little love. She then peed (we call it puppy bladder). And laid in it to show me her tummy. And wagged her tail, just to show me how far pee can spray when a happy puppy's tail is whipping through a puddle of it. Spray it did. I had my very own golden shower this morning, and it wasn't nearly as much fun as folks claim (the ones who are into that sort of thing, anyway).

Off to take a soap and water shower now. Wifey out.