Jan
31
Adoption Journey – Day 10
One more day, one more bit of paperwork out of the way. Every little bit of bureaucracy we get finished is one step closer to a flight back from Ethiopia, child in arms. So I choose to see it, anyway. I will mark the journey with little bits of paper passed from hand to hand.
Today we formally signed our retainer agreement and paid our first of many fees to the adoption agency. We are now, officially, in the process of adoption. We had to get the retainer witnessed and drop off a cheque, so rather than mail it in, we decided to drop it off and get the agency to witness our document instead.
I called them first thing this morning to check on the particulars of the witness. I spoke with Sue, the Manager of the agency. Sue is a lovely woman, who always has something nice to say in the few times I have spoken with her. Today, she mentioned that she wanted to meet us, but she was going to be out today, and then she will be leaving on Friday to go to Ethiopia. She will be checking in at the orphanage, and visiting with some of the children. And, she added, there are 9 families on their way to Ethiopia to meet and bring home their new children. NINE! I was thrilled for them. I appreciate now how exciting and wonderful a time this must be for them all, as well as one full of anticipation and longing and emotion. I must admit, I was a tiny bit envious of these families, now at the end of a journey we are just beginning, but I guess part of the experience is the journey, after all. We have to remind ourselves of that when the going gets a little tougher.
One of the neat things that came with signing our retainer was that the agency gave us a Rough Guide travel book for Ethiopia and Eritrea. I had looked at them online, but was planning on buying a stack of books and hadn’t done so yet. Now I have one of the books in hand! I am anxious to get reading. I love travel books anyway — I have sometimes read them for fun, just to learn about other places — but now I can read all about the country and customs and people that our son or daughter (or both!) will come from. I am excited to begin learning. I am excited to get going.
I also had to order some documents online today. We need certified copies of a lot of documentation. Today, I ordered birth certificates and our marriage license. So many questions, particularly for a birth certificate: Where were you born? Doctor’s name? Where were your parents born? Birthdate? Hospital? Hells bells, I could have written my OWN birth certificate with all that information. Come to think of it, I probably just did. Ah well, at least it’s all online, instead of standing in lines in offices. That’ll come when I visit police stations and passport offices and consulates and the like.
BDH got some of the medical stuff started today. We have 6 months of hepatitis vaccines to look forward to, not to mention yellow fever vaccines, and anything else we haven’t got up to date. Looks like I have to call my insane doctor and make an appointment to get that stuff started. (BAH. I hate that woman for what she did to me during my miscarriage. But she’s the only doctor I have and cannot switch thanks to the Ontario government, much to my dismay.) We have the option of going to a travel clinic that specializes in this sort of thing, so I will pursue that option, but I still have to get a physical done with Dr. Insane-o. All for a good cause.
As long as I keep checking things off on our Adoption Checklist, I am happy. It means we are moving closer to our child, who is probably in utero this very minute. Can you imagine? Somewhere in Ethiopia right now, a baby is developing that we will one day call our own. That’s a nice thought. On the flip side, a mother right now is dealing with the issues of pregnancy, thinking about impending birth, harbouring hopes for her child, worriying about their future, maybe even just struggling to survive herself. That thought, too, drives me a bit — to get this paperwork done, to learn everything I can, to give my child everything any mother could hope for for her child in terms of love and health and happiness and opportunity. We have entered into a bond to do the best we can by these two people that we don’t even know in a foreign country that we haven’t any connection to. Yet.
We are just at the very beginning of this journey. It will last us a lifetime.
Jan
30
(God, how I love Julian from Madagascar.)
Yesterday was cold. It was only -14 C or thereabouts, but the windchill made it feel really cold. It was buttfreezing cold. It was “minus holy crap” cold. But I had places to go and people to see and things to do, so I had to go out. This involved two things: Ensuring my car was no longer covered by six inches of snow, and freeing it from the snowbound prison that our driveway regularly becomes over the course of a winter, because we are to lazy and cold-averse to shovel it.
Now, usually, we just drive over the snow and don’t bother shovelling. It’s not like we often get enough snow to warrant shovelling, and besides, we always drive our 4WD vehicle so my little car is not used much. Normally it’s parked in the garage most of the winter. This year, snow tires and boxes and other miscellaneous crap is parked in our garage, so my little car is in the driveway. So, consequently, whenever I want to take it out, I have to clear it. And this year, the added bonus in the equation is that enough snow has piled up in various places due to plowing and other vehicular movement that whenever I try to drive my car in and out, it has to negotiate a giant hump of snow at the end of the driveway. And one of these days, my little car will either fail to make the jump, or get hung up on top of the frozen pile of snow. So I decided yesterday was as good a day as any to beat back the snow gods.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. One of the benefits to the ever-changing southern Ontario winter, when it comes to this sort of work, is the variety of precipitation and temperature. If you’re lucky, you get some powdery snow falling before anything else. That way, whatever you have to clear, if you can just get under to that powdery stuff, the rest just lifts off. Voila! Instant snow removal. This winter, we had some powdery stuff, follwed by freezing wet stuff, followed by more powdery dry stuff. So I was, with a bit of work, able to get a lot of it to lift off.
But it was heavy work, and that powdery level was thin, underneath some pretty hard-packed frozen stuff. It required a lot of jamming and pushing the shovel underneath to lift it. It was a good workout, and I was enjoying the hard work — I was actually getting hot out there in that 2-thousand-mile-an-hour northwest wind — but my wrist was starting to hurt from the repeated jamming of the shovel against solid hard-pack.
I was out for about an hour yesterday, wailing away on this stuff, hacking and beating and shovelling. And who, do you think, comes out onto his porch at minute 57 of all my work? That’s right, THE MAYOR. Now, you just KNOW that he’s been watching me for awhile. It’s what he does. But does he come out, shovel in hand, and offer to help me? Oh no. He comes out in his sock feet onto his porch and holler, “Hey, do you want to use my ICEBREAKER??” (Say “icebreaker” to yourself from here on in the story in the same deep, feedback-filled announcer voice as you’d say “MONSTER TRUCK RALLY” and ‘SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY!” and you’ll get the effect this had in my mind.) I politely declined, saying I was getting through it just fine, and then The Mayor proceeded to tell me, using ICEBREAKER repeatedly in his exhortations, how THE ICEBREAKER would just “rip through all that stuff” etc. Again, I politely declined. My wrist was really starting to hurt at this point, and I could not lift much more anyway, so I said I was just about done. He left with a “Well, alright…” in that lingering voice that indicates that a) I was a FOOL for not using the ICEBREAKER, and 2) I hadn’t NEARLY finished shovelling the driveway and therefore was a bad homeowner and he’d have to tell the Good Homeowners’ Association (read: his wife) about how, once again, we were half-assed in our homeowner duties. And I packed away my shovels and went inside, wrist hurting badly enough that I briefly considered heading to emergency.
So I came in and iced my wrist, and with that, my day of heavy housework was mostly done. But at least the wrist kept my meeting with The Mayor to a minimum. AND, I consoled myself with a large glass of Shiraz with dinner. (And two extra-strength Tylenol before bed, after which I slept like the dead.)
So, sometimes it’s not all bad being a bunch of pansies.
Jan
29
Adoption Journey – Day 8
This morning, after I finish blogging (and get my car cleaned off — there’s a car under all that snow SOMEWHERE, I just KNOW it) I have to go out to the post office and send my application off to attend an adoption preparation seminar. I think I mentioned it last week.
This whole adoption thing — as a matter of fact, this whole parenting thing — is brand new to BDH and I, obviously. So the idea of going to a seminar is somewhat comforting, to tell you the truth. We have so many questions and concerns and fears. At this stage of the game, your imagination runs away with you a bit, and the places it goes? Scary. So periodically I look at the content of the seminar (taken from www.whatisadoption.com), and it’s very reassuring.
- The process involved in adopting internationally, pre- and post-placement — DUH.
- Preparing for adoption and travel (emotional considerations, dealing with friends and family, positive adoption language…) — Yeah, this is a good one. Not something I would have thought about, but there’s a lot of up and down in this process, no doubt just as much as when we were trying to have a biological child. And I know how hard that was, and dealing with friends and family during that time.
- Infertility (does the pain ever totally go away?) — Whoa. This one is a big one. Talk about the elephant in the room, man…
- Meeting your child, the flight back, and suggestions about what not to do when you return — This one I have thought about a LOT. The moment when our child sees our white faces and shrieks in horror at the new, scary, weird-looking people. Thinking about our first time alone, in a hotel room in a foreign country, with our child. Hoping that a bond develops between us. Thinking in abject terror of 24 hours of travelling by plane with an inconsolable child. BAH. It’s terrifying.
- Adjustment considerations (food, bath, language, sleeping…) — Our child will be on a completely opposite schedule to us. We’re never going to sleep again. And also, food and bathing will be so completely different for all of us. At least language is something I can wrap my head around.
- Medical issues and child development — I mean, it’s not enough as a new parent to have to deal with medical stuff for the very first time, but add to that the twists and turns of a child who may be starting out at a bit of a disadvantage, and maybe with some hurdles to overcome.
- Attaching and bonding (adjustment of older children) — We’re hoping for an infant, but that does not mean that this is how we will end up. We could have a toddler, or a sibling set, or twins…
- Preparing for being different (issues related to mixed racial adoption) — This is another one I think I am more prepared for. I have been considering this since I first decided I wanted to adopt during my life, when I was still in my teens. But I have a lot of questions, and I know I will need a lot of advice.
- Growing up adopted (talking about adoption with your child) — This is another one I am looking forward to discussing. I know my child will grow up surrounded by a loving and supportive family. I want my child to be cool with adoption, be proud of where he or she came from. I want to do this one right.
So all in all, this looks like a good course for us. I am really looking forward to it. I can’t imagine going into this process without someone there to answer my questions, without having prepared as best I can. I know I will have a million questions, and I will wish that I had all the knowledge and experience of the people around me and the people running the course. I know that’s not possible, but I just want to be as good a parent as I possibly can.
Jan
26
I’ve been doing so much research this week, my eyeballs are rolling around their sockets. So today, I took a little time out to appreciate things.
- This morning, at 4 am, a beautiful little 7 1/2 pound girl was born to a co-worker and friend of BDH. She was eagerly anticipated, although early, and already much loved.
- I sat and watched the snow fall today. It has been bitterly cold here recently, but looking out over the conservation area, as deer walked by, it was lovely.
- I had a good laugh at my and Kelly’s expense today, rereading a post she made on her blog that captured one of our many IM conversations one evening. I laughed so hard I cried and wheezed. It was brilliant.
- We’re doing our best here to get healthy before the time comes for us to welcome a child into our home. I’ve been walking on the treadmill each day, and although I get all sweaty and nasty, I do enjoy the exercise.
- Sometimes, a cup of sweet milky tea and two cookies really IS all you need.
- Silly can be good for the spirit. Thanks to 5 minutes on homestarrunner, now I will be randomly yelling “Emergency Marketing Meeting!” a lot. And hoping for an opportunity to say to someone “I don’t know whether to puke or have a seizure.” And I’ve decided that my new favourite phrase is “It is time to resort to extreme measures. With Gene Hackman.” I can see that being VERY useful.
Jan
25
Adoption Journey — Day 4
I’ve been on a fact-finding mission these past few days. My job has been to find out as much as I can about all the paperwork we have to get done before we will be able to send a file to Ethiopia that will get matched with a baby that we can then adopt. And there is a LOT of paperwork to be done. Some, we can do now, and some must wait.
So, we prioritized. What can we do now? Well, first, we had to apply to the adoption agency and hope for them to accept us. They did. So now, we must sign the agreement, which is full of legalese and made for good suppertime reading and discussion, that authorizes them to act on our behalf, and send them a retainer fee. That seems easy enough. I can do that right away.
The next and probably most important thing we had to do immediately was find a licensed adoption practitioner to do our homestudy. This is the “hurry up and wait” bit. Adoption practitioners have a waiting list, somewhere between 3 and 6 months, but you MUST have a homestudy done in order to adopt. So we had to call and find one we liked, and get on the wait list. Finding one you like is important, because the homestudy can be fairly intrusive, so it makes it easier if you get along with your practitioner. They ask lots of personal questions, they look around your home — they decide if you are suitable to be parents, essentially. But it’s an important and necessary process, so you try to get through it with as much good humour and patience as possible. So I spoke with Ms. Adoption Practitioner, the first one I called, and she had a very gentle and friendly demeanour, so we decided to go for it. And so, likely in May, we will have the first of 5 or so meetings with her.
Another thing we can do right away, if it’s available, is take an adoption preparation course. It’s not required, but highly recommended. And it looks really good. And starting January 1, 2008, it will be MANDATORY, and also 5 TIMES more expensive. So, DUH, we’re signing up for it tomorrow. It happens in March, so more hurry up and wait.
Next on the list: Passports. You have to hold a passport for 6 months before you can adopt from Ethiopia. So we have to get on that immediately. And besides the passports, we need to get security clearance: a clean police report, fingerprints sent to the RCMP, and police reports from all the countries you have lived in since the age of 18. (Yikes. I’ve got a couple of embassies to visit.)
There’s more. Lots more. But my brain is beginning to bend.
I am going to need to come up with a mantra to keep me focused and patient. Something to help me see the child in the middle of all the paper.
Jan
24
This week BDH and I took our first small step in a very long journey. This week we formally applied to begin the process to adopt a child.
It’s been a period of some decisions for us. We had to decide whether to try to adopt, figure out where we would come up with the money, sort through the paperwork, come to terms with not having a biological child… none of these things can be taken lightly. But we talked it over, and decided that our life together would not be complete without children in it. And so, adoption seemed like a logical choice: uniting a couple who want a family with children who want parents. It’s a simple call to make when you put it that way.
So we have been making phone calls and talking to government organizations and planning to take a course and filling in paperwork. It’s a little overwhelming. It’s a little scary too. And it’s going to be a lot of time, energy and money. It makes you sit down and catch your breath.
But… it’s totally going to be worth it. At least, we think so, from the idealized viewpoint of someone on the outside looking in. We stand outside and look in at what it is like to have kids, and it looks lovely from here. We think we will be good parents; or, at the very least, we’ll do our very best. We certainly have a lot of love to give to a child. We imagine all the wonderful things about parenthood, but we also know how hard it will be, how challenging, and ultimately, how rewarding.
So, yeah, it’s going to be a rough road and cost us a ton of money. But we think of it as an investment. An investment in our life together. An investment in our happiness. An investment in our future.
The returns on our investment, we hope, will be limitless.
Jan
22
We’re home, safe and sound.
Although I loved being away, and visiting with family and relaxing at BDH’s parents’ house, there’s just something nice about being home. We’re always sad to come to the end of our holidays, but then we’re always happy to get home, too. It’s kind of strange. We love to go to Nova Scotia and we enjoy it so much when we’re there, we’re always looking for opportunities to go visit and talk about one day eventually moving back. And then we come home and come through the door and realize how much we missed home while we were away.
It may not be the cleanest or the best decorated or the most elegant house on the planet, but it’s ours. It’s comforting and homey and “lived-in”, that’s for sure. Our girls are here, and we miss them whenever we’re away, despite having great cat sitters checking up on them. And it’s nice to be missed, too. It’s nice to know the girls miss us, and they follow us around like little shadows for hours after we return, just happy to see us. And our stuff is here. We miss our routines and the things we do just as habit. We miss our home.
Last night, we got in, and gave the girls love and pets and snuggles, and we watched a nice movie and unwound from our journey. We let Lucy and Cinnamon sleep with us, a rare treat. And today, I got up and went to the vet to bring Opus home. She trotted around the place, meowing and purring, as happy to be here as I was to finally have her home for good. And with a clean, cancer-free bill of health (for the time being, anyway). I’ve cuddled and enjoyed the cats more than I have in a long time. And I’ve also enjoyed getting back into my routine today. I’ve put on laundry, and picked up a couple of things at the store, and put supper in the crock pot. I’ve enjoyed being home.
I’m sure, in a few weeks, when things get stressful and we’re tired and cranky, we’ll lament not being on vacation, and we’ll dream of getting away again. But for the time being, today at least, we’re home. And it’s nice.
Jan
20
I’m still on vacation. It’s nice. But tomorrow, we head home.
Today, I’m sitting in front of a crackling fire, looking out the window as the snow falls. It’s pretty, and it’s nice to be indoors instead of out in the cold. We’ve got nowhere we really have to be, so we can enjoy the snow flurries from behind glass. Last night, the wind howled and a storm blew through, sounding at times like a freight train roaring by. I was tucked in bed, marvelling at the fact that the house was not shaking and quivering, as our little house back home does whenever the wind blows.
I miss our girls. I look forward to seeing them tomorrow night. I look forward to picking Opus up from the vet — Dr. Maggs called us this week, after an Xray on her abdomen, to tell us definitively that she does NOT have cancer, and she’s doing well. So this week has been as worry-free as can be expected when you’re far from home. My mind is always a little bit back home, just thinking about the girls and the state of the house and the shovelling out I’ll have to do on Monday and little things like that.
But for now, there’s a lovely fire snapping and flickering in the fireplace. And that’s all I want to think about today.
And maybe whether or not to have a glass of wine.
Jan
15
It’s snowing. A lot. We’re bracing for a wee bit of a storm here. And kind of happy about it, actually.
We’re on vacation, and so the fact that we cannot go anywhere or do anything is just fine with us. We’re sitting inside where it’s warm and toasty, watching snow fall faster and faster outside our window. The world is growing increasingly whiter and prettier outside, and we sit indoors with some lovely adult beverages and watch it snow. I have no boots here with me. And this is not a problem.
We’re going to make a fire in the fireplace this afternoon. I might have a drink and curl up with a book. Perhaps I’ll do a little bit of blogging, or maybe I’ll play some Sims2. We might watch a video, or we might not. BDH is playing his computer game and is quite happy to have been forbidden to drive anywhere, thankyouverymuch.
We’re on vacation, so this kind of weather is perfect. Big, pretty flakes are falling outside. The visibility is dwindling. We’ve heard an ambulance go by, sirens blaring, on the way, no doubt, to an accident on increasingly bad roads. If BDH had to drive in to work or there were groceries to be bought or errands to run, we’d be stressing. If we had left a day later, we’d be stuck in an airport with cancelled flights. But we left Ontario before the storm hit there, and we arrived in Nova Scotia before the storm hit here, so now we are toasty warm and content.
Let it snow. We’ve got nowhere to go and no one to see. And from the inside looking out, it’s pretty.
Jan
13
It’s official. BDH and I are, in the immortal words of Corky St. Clair, BASTARD PEOPLE.
Today, we took Opus in to the vet for a last checkup. And then we LEFT HER THERE. No, not FOREVER; just for the week. We’re going on a little vacation to visit BDH’s parents again, and we decided it would be best to board her at the vet where, given her recent health issues, they can check up on her daily and give her any medical assitance she needs.
And really, where she is staying is actually quite nice. It’s called the Kitty Condos. She has a big spacious 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom cage (seriously, it’s two cages joined by a little trapdoor, and a litter box), she gets several square meals a day, and she’ll get lots of love and attention. She’s quite a celebrity there, given her recent health battles, so no doubt she’ll get lots of pets and love. And she gets let out for exercise periodically, to run around the room and climb on stuff (not that she either runs OR climbs very much at 17 1/2, but you get the idea) and she can visit with other cats. (Yeah, THAT won’t happen. She’s not what you’d call a party animal.)
I’m sure there will be retribution when we return. There’s a computer in the condos room. And a phone. AND the cat in the condo below her? It’s a Siamese. And not a very NICE Siamese, by all accounts, either. Even now, no doubt Bubby is plotting with Kiko the Siamese to bust out of there and exact revenge on us.
And yet? If you had seen her sitting and looking longingly at us, as we walked out the door, like a tiny prisoner… you’d say it too. We’re bastard people.
Jan
11
I did something today that made someone’s day. A total stranger. They had been having a bad time of it recently, and I blogged about them and as it turns out, what I said made their day a bit better. It was unintentional. Sometimes, the best things in life are.
I was blogging about the work that an organization has been doing, which in my opinion is really good. Surprisingly good, actually, because they are doing their job better than most other organizations of their kind in Canada, and they’re a very small organization. So I wrote my blog, and then I emailed a link to them to say, “I know it’s not much, but I think you’re doing great work, and I wanted the world to know too. Well done you.” I didn’t expect a response; I just thought maybe it might pique a little interest.
Boy, did I get THAT wrong. On a number of levels. And all, it seems, in a good way.
Turns out, this organization is one man, working his butt off, doing what he loves. He fights the good fight to do the best work that he can in the face of naysayers and low budgets. He marshals a team of dedicated volunteers and donated time and sometimes unreliable equipment, and he makes it work really, really well. I don’t think he knew anyone noticed, or cared, about the work he was doing. And this one fellow was having a really crappy time of it recently. He didn’t say why, and I didn’t ask. But when my email came in, it made a difference in his day.
I had written to say that I was impressed and to keep up the good work. And this one fellow, having a really bad day, was very grateful. He was touched to know that someone noticed. He was happy to know that he’s not been working in vain for all this time. He’s got an email and a blog post that he can use to support what he’s doing and hopefully get the backing to do more. And he was happy to have the validation for all the time and energy he’s put in.
BDH and I have always said we like to live by the philosophy, “Everyone should feel they are doing well.” So in a world where people often complain about service or quality or price or whatever, we endeavour to tell people when we are really pleased with something. We want people to know that what they do makes a difference and makes us happy. It takes very little effort on our part. It’s really not a lot to do on our part. Or so we thought.
As it turns out, it is. Sometimes people need to feel they are doing well. Sometimes appreciation of one’s work is all they need to turn a day around. Sometimes a few kind words really can make all the difference.
It cost me nothing but a little time. But I feel like even though I wrote to tell someone they were doing well, I am the one reaping the rewards.
Jan
10
Ever have one of those days where you just can’t seem to gather the energy to do anything? I am having one of those days.
I got up this morning with the intent of making it a full day. I planned to get a bunch of things done. It’s not that I had a ton of energy, mind you — I woke up tired — but I was up early and getting things done, and just thought I’d carry on.
Wrong.
I got the garbage out early, the girls were fed and pilled, BDH’s lunch was packed. But as he got ready to head out for work, I felt tired. I made a pot of coffee, came upstairs to do my blogging for the day, and prepared to head out in the snow and pick up a couple of things at the store. Then BDH called, and asked me to reschedule an appointment for him. He and I were chatting, and he asked what’s wrong. “Just really tired,” I said. So he volunteered to pick up the stuff at the store for me, and suggested I go and lie down for awhile.
I did. I slept like the dead for two hours. And I could have slept for a lot longer. But the alarm went off, and I struggled to get up. I woke up with a ringing headache. And I have been unmotivated and sluggish ever since.
I had such good intentions for the day, and I feel peevish that none of them got done. But it’s just one of those days, I guess. I am so glad we have a vacation coming up.
Jan
9
I have been told.
This evening, BDH called home to say hello. His mom answered, and the small talk got around to the topic of their new computer. Both BDH’s mom and dad are learning to use their new computer, purchased as a Christmas present, and they’re doing really well with it. They’re sending email, using the internet, practicing typing, and just generally getting comfortable with the tools and toys. While BDH got things set up and running, part of my job is to help teach them about how to use the internet, since it is My Best Thing Evah. I mentioned that next week, when we are visiting, we will have to try some new things.
My mother-in-law (let’s call her “Mom”, for that is not her real name but what we call her) first became interested in the internet because she started reading my blog while she was on vacation late last year. She likes to read my blog to keep up to date on what is happening with us, because it is immediate and irreverent and sometimes even interesting. It’s also something she can get to on the internet without help from anyone, so she has been checking it faithfully since the got the computer.
So tonight Mom was on the phone and said that she noticed that I had not blogged since — WAIT FOR IT! — January 7th. Sunday. That’s TWO DAYS AGO!! And so, she told me to get up off my fanny and get to it! (At which point, I mentioned that I would actually have to get ON my fanny in order to blog, but this was not the time for impertinence. You don’t mess with Mom. She’s small, but she’s wily. And she is the keeper of the wine, so I shan’t anger her.) She said she relies on me for news! I’m how she keeps up to date on stuff! I was exhorted to get writing. (I think there was an implied “MISSY!” on the end of that — I cannot be sure.)
And so, I find myself duly chastened. I do not want to let my readers down. Especially since there’s wine to be drunk come Sunday.
So, this blog’s for you, Mom! (*waves*)
Jan
7
I know it’s January 7th, but we’re really loathe to take down our Christmas tree. Some years, we leave it up for weeks after Christmas. One year, it was up until mid-February.
It’s not like we feel Christmas-y or anything. Far from it. It’s hard to feel festive when you’re checking for cat poop and worrying about what Cat 1 is eating and whether Cat 2 is eating and pilling cats who are screeching fit to raise the roof. Holiday spirit is the last thing on your mind when your budget is stretched to snapping and you’re afraid to use your credit card for fear the swipe machine at the store will start flashing and going “TILT!!” No, it’s not the Christmas aspect. It’s the ambience.
We love the light that our tree gives off. it’s a rosy, multicoloured glow that just makes the room so much more inviting and makes us feel so relaxed. It’s gentle and pretty, unlike the harsh reading light we have or the eyestrain-inducing 40-watt boobie lights affixed to the ceiling by the builder. Our house feels more homey by the gentle light of the Christmas tree.
Even the cats like the tree. When they are not sick, they lie under the tree, enjoying the sheltering branches and the soft light. They marvel at the twinkling ornaments and are enchanted by the dangling jingle bells and friendly, toy-like ornaments on the lower branches. They snooze on the quilted tree skirt, or under it in Lucy’s case, and seem perfectly content with their world.
I know we’ll have to take it down eventually, but for awhile yet, we will put it off. It’s nice, having a comfortable place to sit and relax. It’s comforting. It’s home.
Jan
6
Everyone seems to be in neutral corners around here.
Opus is still convalescing in the front bedroom. She’s been in there since she got home from the hospital, so we can monitor what she eats. However, today she’s in there partly to escape the evil People who tried to pill her at lunchime. It went horribly, terribly wrong, and there was much howling and recrimination and soggy pills being spit out everywhere. She was wet and mad and wanted nothing to do with us. But she’s alright. She’s got a heating pad to sleep on, a big cage for night time, food, water, and a litter box. She’s living like a queen in there.
Cinnamon came home from her short stay in hospital and is sequestered in the back bedroom. We also have to monitor what she eats. She scrabbles and mews at the door constantly, trying to convince us that she should be let out to run around the place. She’s so happy when someone goes in to visit her, and I went in and we played under the blankets and had some nice pets and she purred like a little machine. I think she’s lonely in there, but I prefer lonely to scared and sick and hiding behind the water heater. She’s MUCH more herself, and is eating like crazy. She has a veritable buffet of kibbles in there to tempt her palate.
Lucy is in the attic, napping on my chair. She’s been so lonely since her sisters took sick, so I sat with her on my lap today and watched a DVD. I’ve also been treating her to a little tuna to give her something special that the others don’t have. She’s such a good little soul, and she’s so confused as to why she’s been all alone for the past few days. Between me tending to Opus and BDH tending to Cinnamon, she’s often left to her own devices.
BDH has spent the day in front of his computer playing WOW. And he’ll likely be there until well after midnight.
And me, I napped with Opus today for a good long time. I am exhausted. And I will probably spend my evening moving from room to room, spending time with each of the patients and keeping them company, doing email and reading sites and posting with input from the girls. That’s the benefit of a laptop, I guess.
Jan
5
I’m on poop patrol these days. It’s big fun, I can tell you.
Every day, several times a day, I have to check the various litter boxes around the house to see if our cats have used them, and if any of them have diarrhea. I have to follow cats when they go to the litter boxes and be prepared to retrieve any stinky contents that are not of the normal shape, size or consistency and put them into zip locs for the vet lab to examine. I have to peer at cat bums to see if they’re covered in any poop, and then clean them up if they do.
It’s very much like being a mom to very small children. Very small, furry children who can’t speak or understand a word I say. And who tend to hide in places you can’t get to them if they are sick or mad or upset.
Fortunately, the poop patrol has been quiet. Opus is doing very well and eating pretty well, and there’s been only one episode where the poop patrol had to rush in. I am pleased that she is eating and drinking and playing and, for the time being, holding her own. Today we take her in briefly for a temperature check, to make sure she has no fever. Cinnamon is not doing so well. She hasn’t had any diarrhea that I can find, but then again, she won’t eat. We take her in today to get some fluids under the skin and get pills and an appetite stimulant to get her to eat. And if it’s bad enough… into hospital. Thank goodness for payment plans at the vet, is all I can say at this point.
The wonderful Dr. Germain continues to be wonderful. She’s so conscientious about the girls’ care, and even though she’s probably snowed under with work while Dr. Maggs is off, she still takes the time to call and get updates and chat with us. She has been so very good with the girls, particularly Opus, and although we take up so much of her time and I am sure she’d rather see the last of us for a while, she soldiers on. It must be so frustrating and stressful sometimes to have to deal with not only these tiny, complex, sick creatures without seeing an end in sight, but with stressed out owners like us who are getting exhausted emotionally and financially.
Plus she’s on 2nd tier poop patrol, getting emails about poop and talking about poop and analysing poop, so that’s no fun either.
Jan
3
Sometimes in life you reach your limit. And sometimes, you have to figure out what that limit is, exactly. And it is not always easy.
Today we have to go pick up Opus from the vet. She’s making baby steps at getting better. More honestly, she’s struggling back from the brink. She’s put on some weight, and her fever is gone, and her abdomen is no longer sore. But more disturbingly, she’s still got diarrhea, which anti-diarrheal meds are not helping much with. She still has trouble eating without anti-nausea meds. Our wonderful vet Dr. Germain (who works alongside the equally wonderful Dr. Maggs, who is on vacation this week) still feels an unusual mass in her abdomen, that may or may not just be swelling from the pancreatitis. And most disturbingly of all, the last Xray showed what may or may not be cancer in her abdomen. And the frustrating thing is, without cutting her open to do exploratory surgery, we can’t know for sure. But the brilliant Dr. Germain, who has been bang-on in her gut feeling all the way along about Opus’ gut, is worried that it might be cancer. It’s been agonizing for her, trying to fix Opus, whom she loves and cares for like she was her own. It’s been agonizing for us.
So our plan of action is this: first we show up, then we see what happens. First we bring Opus home, and we medicate her and feed her and love her and hope that she pulls through and that it is just a long, slow recovery from pancreatitis. But if we bring her home, and she begins to deteriorate, we have decided that we will have to make the call, and say goodbye to Opus. We will have Dr. Germain come over to the house with one of the techs, and they will give her her last shot here, at home, happy and in the arms of the people who love her best. It’s a peaceful end. It’s all I ever wanted out of all this medical stuff — if I cannot make her healthy and whole, then I want her to not suffer, and I want her end to be peaceful, with love.
The hard part is, we make this decision partly out of necessity. We have just reached our limit financially. We are out of money. It has been so expensive and we just cannot do any more. And that hurts. If we could, we’d move heaven and earth to ensure that she has the best medical care possible (which she does right now) for as long as is required (which is where we fall short). We simply have no more money. But another thing we’ve considered is that we just have to set that limit for Opus. How much more indignity and discomfort do we put her through? She’s so old, even putting an IV in her little old lady veins is a struggle. She has a heart murmur. She’s too old for surgery. She’s sick and she’s got the runs and she can’t groom herself. She’s shaved all over in patches, like she lost a fight with a razor. It’s heartbreaking to see her. And despite all this, when she sees us, she purrs and chirps and loves us up. That bright, funny, scrappy little girl is still in there. But we cannot keep her in the hospital indefinitely; it isn’t fair. We want her home.
So we reached our limit. And in the next few days, it may be that she decides that she has reached her limit too. And if that time comes, I know my heart will shatter like cheap glass, and losing Opus will test this human heart’s capacity for grief and loss. But that too will have a limit, and with time, will heal.
But who knows what the next few days will bring. We will bring her home, and love her as much as we can. We’ll take pictures and video and press her little pawprints in plaster to save. We will hope, and we will pray, and we will wait. It is all we can do.
And then, downstairs in a cage, is Cinnamon. BDH’s baby girl. Our little orange ‘fraidy cat, our sweet girl who never causes us a lick of trouble. She’s got diarrhea. She’s lethargic and won’t eat. And so she, too, must go in to see Dr. Germain. Somewhere we must find a little more cash to take care of another sick girl. Somehow we must redefine our limits. But hopefully, this will be a clue to what is causing Opus to be sick, and we can get both of them fixed up. In the meantime, we worry.
I remember the days when time seemed limitless, when our energy was limitless, when our resources, while not exactly limitless, were certainly better. And I wonder if we’ll ever get to that point again.
Jan
2
The holiday season is officially over. It’s back to work day for a lot of people, BDH included. And for me, it’s back to routine day.
There’s a lot to be said for getting back into a routine. I spend most days following kind of a loose schedule of things to do, because my job is to not only write each day, but to keep the house clean, the fridge full, the laundry done, and all that house stuff. So when the routine is interrupted by holidays, travel, cat crises, whatever, then the house gets dirty, the cupboards get a bit bare, and things don’t get done. I take holidays, too.
So yeah, the house gets a little messy. But beyond that, our routines as people get all screwy. We stay up later than we would normally, watching videos or playing games or reading or whatever. Our sleep patterns get all funky. We eat a lot more junk food and take out food because we’re feeling lazy or there’s grocery shopping that needs doing. We emerge from holidays looking more tired and paler and flabbier than when we went in.
Last night was rough. BDH had a lousy sleep — probably a combination of the bad routine, and the inevitable mental scheduling and review about whatever is coming up in his work week. My sleep was slightly less lousy, but still fitful, thinking about what has to be done this week, bills, the vet call about Opus today. We both woke up feeling tired.
But I also woke up feeling relieved. I have a list of things to do today. I know that today is the first working day of the week, so it is laundry day. I made my coffee and got the dishwasher loaded and was ready to roll. Laundry is underway. Blogs are being written. Tasks are being accomplished around the house. I enjoy the feeling that I am getting things done again, that a schedule is being followed, that I have a purpose to my day. I like having a routine again.
Holidays are great. I love time off. But there’s something to be said for getting back into a routine again. Maybe it’s because I am at home full time. I am sure I’d feel different if I were going off to an office each day. But I enjoy that I have a schedule and a plan. Things are getting done. It’s nice.
Jan
1
Really. It IS quiet. I would assume it’s because so many people are nursing hangovers this morning (and it brings up an incredible urge in me to run around the street banging pots and pans together and yelling at the top of my lungs). But it is very quiet today.
We spent New Year’s Eve doing what we enjoy: sitting on our butts in front of our computers. BDH was saving the universe from evil playing WOW with Ed, and I was reading the spoilers for season 3 of Battlestar Galactica. So all in all, a nice night.
I am glad to see the end of 2006. It wasn’t an annus horribilus like 2004 (where we stayed up until midnight on New Years Eve just to be sure the goddamn year was really well and truly over), but it sucked pretty hard in a lot of respects. It was emotionally, physically and financially difficult. It was full of marginally painful procedures and very painful disappointments. But, 2005 was better than 2004, and 2006 was better than 2005. So maybe 2007 will be a good year for us.
It’s hard to know. Right now it stretches out before us, and the prospects look iffy at best. Opus may not come home from the hospital, if the problem turns out to be a fast-spreading cancer throughout her abdomen as the last Xrays may indicate, and so we may have to say goodbye to her this week. I have no job. We have lots of debt. The money for any more infertility treatment or any adoption process is long, long gone. We have no kids.
But on the other hand, we have each other, and our relationship has been strengthened by all the trials and tribulations of the last 3 years. I am not making much (if any) money, but I am happy doing what I love for the first time in my life, which is writing. We may still get our Bubby back, and we also have 2 wonderful cats who are healthy and happy. BDH has a job that he loves. We have good friends and family. We have food on the table and a roof over our heads, and really, we want for so little. We have lots of blessings, if we take the time to look.
So as we head into 2007, we will try to keep our thoughts optimistic, and take each day as it comes. We will do the best we can with what we can. We will try to be hopeful and positive and grateful. We will remind each other of our blessings. We will try to make this a good year.
Happy New Year to all, and may the new year bring you health, happiness and prosperity.
