The child has been up (save a two hour nap) all day.  He’s not feeling right, so he has to be held all the time.  He’s fed every 1.5 hours.  My boobs are sore from it.  And what do you think did this?

Sarah had chilli for dinner last night.

After a particularly long feeding, he’s now down and I think he might sleep for an hour or two.  I might write more later, but I’m actually going to take advantage of this respite from mommy-dom and get a few winks myself.

In my last post, I mentioned that Shelby, our oldest cat, was feeling mighty poorly.  The decline of her health had been steady over the past few years, but in the last week, took a very sudden turn for the worse.  Last night in particular, I knew the end was near.

I’ve also been urging Bryan to take her to the vet, but we have been busy.  And I realized last night, as I watched him tear up as she struggled to breathe, it was just too much for him. 

As much as I tease about Bryan having an ovary of his own and being just this side of gay, in truth he is the most sensitive man I’ve ever known, especially when it comes to animals.  He will come to the rescue of any stray without question, and won’t rest until they have a happy home.  And the concept of him having to choose to end the life of an animal, even for the right reasons, was too much for him.

I curled up beside him this morning and woke him by stroking his hair.  “Honey,” I whispered when his eye lids opened, “Shelby’s in a lot of pain.  She can’t keep water down.  It’s time to take her in.”  He lay there, staring.  We were silent for a long time.  I nuzzled his neck, kissed him softly, and got up to tend to the baby.

He came out and saw Shelby in the middle of the kitchen, curled up and wheezing.  And he sat down beside me and called the vet.  He made the appointment and I dozed beside him.  We heard Shelby give one of her signature Siamese shouts and slip out of the dog door.  We assumed she was going to go curl up in the sun, where the warmth helps her joints.

Shelby disappeared.  We still have not seen or heard her.  Bryan is heartbroken.

Of course, we both know what happened.  Bryan still jumps when an animal or a breeze stirs the dog door, and he is still listening for her to yowl.  I am not so optimistic.  But I firmly believe she’s in a better place, wherever that place is.  And she was such an amazing and loving cat that she didn’t want Bryan to bear the burden of making the decision to end her life. 

It’s been a long week.

I will be the first to admit that I may be a tad hormonal right now.

After all, there is no logical reason for me to bawl when I read that Dan Fogelberg had passed.  Although his “Same Auld Lang Syne” is a crucial song to Bryan and I, and then our son presented himself solely on time with the same song (and during the sax solo at the end.. he’s our dramatic kid), but other than that?  I didn’t know him.  I don’t listen to him daily.  Why did I feel the need to grieve?

Our oldest animal, Shelby, has been showing signs over the last week that her health is rapidly declining, to the point that her quality of life is now in question.  She’s an older cat, has led a full life, and I have been urging Bryan to just take her to the vet and have her put down. (Her health is really that bad.) Why?  Because (again.. ILLOGICAL) I don’t want my baby around walking death and misery.  She is clearly suffering, and I fear Tony can pick that up.  This is not logical thinking.

But on the whole, all hormones aside, it was a very rough weekend at our house.  And I’m sure it’s just the first of many.

As difficult as this weekend was, I have been blessed to be part of a village that won’t let me suffer.  Women from my family to my friends to my internet friends to friends who share my birthday have come to my rescue with phone calls, emails, visits, and just overall support.  For instance, I got some great advice about using diapers as a warm compress from Elaine; Steph brought me a bottle of wine (which I totally dove into last night) and some vampire erotica; Ronda called me with advice about positioning the baby to get clogs out and how to tolerate men; and my mother and Jenni came over on Friday night to sit with me when I was so ill.  I feel very blessed at times like this.

We’ve almost got the nursery set up to the point that Tony can begin sleeping in there.  I’m excited to not live on the couch anymore; I think this will help me feel more “recovered”.  Oh, and then I can begin that thing we like to call Christmas shopping.