The Payne Pack

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Charles was due October 20^th, but he had other plans. For weeks I had been having horrible contractions in the morning. Derek would have to rub my lower back and help me through them. They were getting stronger and lasting longer and pretty much every day I’d swear he was coming that morning, mostly because I hoped he was, although I never really thought it was just that time yet.

The night of October 28^th I had cramps at night which I had never experienced before, but they weren’t as strong as the morning ones. I experienced them for about an hour and I sat on the ottoman stretching them out as we watched tv. They eventually went away and we went to bed.

I woke up in the night to go to the bathroom and leaned onto the dresser that was close to the bed because I had what I thought was a cramp. Instead I leaned over, felt a contraction and heard a very distinctive “pop.” First of all- I had no idea that this was actually possible. They had said in the birthing class that you might here a pop., but that sounded absurd. It popped, it gushed. I sat down on the bed with this ridiculous smile on my face and said to sleeping Derek “pookie, my water broke” Out of a dead sleep he woke up and was ready to go. Do what I don’t know?! Lol. I changed clothes thinking the “water” was done coming out, although I was wrong and did the TACO check. Note to all interacting with pregnant women-give them a food acronym to remember it by. Everything was good and I was having contractions but I was excited!

From birthing class we remembered that after your water breaks, call the midwives. So, we called them gave them the time- 3 am. And then took their advice. Hang out until you are ready to come in, which can be now or later. Our plan had been to labor as much at home as possible. So, we texted the Doula, each wrote our bosses to let them know we wouldn’t be coming in and then followed the directions from birthing class to try to get rest. However, Charles had other plans. He was coming. My contractions were not an hour apart at the beginning. They were all over the place. Some were five minutes apart, some were 10, 3 or 1. But they didn’t last too long in the beginning. So, since sleep wasn’t an option, we went to the next thingn they said to do- have an activity. We had planned to make chocolate chip cookies for the nurses. Derek was smart and thought we should have the pre-packaged stuff on hand in case we couldn’t get it all together to make it from scratch. Well, thank goodness, because just scooping it into a spoon and onto the plate proved a challenge for me. I would get some on a spoon, have a contraction while bending over the kitchen floor, then put it on the baking sheet. I would sit on the floor petting Haplo and Mingo and try to even think about standing up to do this activity. Eventually I just realized it was not happening. I went into the bedroom and crouched on my hands and knees to try to feel better. Derek was amazing, he brought me a cold wash cloth, he finished making the cookies and he was checking in on me. Labor was insane. I remember moving back and forth on my hands and knees groaning as I felt the waves of the contractions.

Derek brought me oatmeal for strength and I think I had two spoonfuls. He got out the binder from our birthing class and would make position suggestions to help the pain. I remember so clearly him getting on the bed and showing me a position I should try. It was so endearing and sweet and hilarious. This memory still makes e smile. We tried a few different positions but the hands and knees proved most effective. Eventually I felt a wave of nausea and Derek grabbed me the bathroom trash can which I promptly threw up in.

Things were heating up, the contractions were getting longer, so Derek sent me (excuse me, I ran the bath, turned on music and helped you undress and supported you as you got in) upstairs to get into the bathtub and he called the Doula because I think we were both a bit surprised at how fast things seemed to be going. The water helped. The music helped. The candle helped. But the contractions were still there! I layed down in it a bit, but eventually ended up on my hands and knees again. I remember Derek not being around a lot while I was laboring at home. The dogs were around! Derek was scurrying around taking care of things-finishing the cookies, calling the Doula. What else I don’t know. Maybe I was just so overwhelmed with the pain that I didn’t notice. Eventually the Doula came over and joined me upstairs while I was in the bathtub. She gave me some tips on how to breathe through them and kinda just stared at me. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Probably why is this girl naked? Lol I don’t know either. Hey- at least I had a sports bra on. Not too long after the Doula arrived, I threw up in the bathtub again, there was just no stopping it. At that point she called it and said it was time to go to the hospital. It was probably 7 or 8 at this time and I remember her telling Derek to pack up the car. I know at 6 he had called his parents to tell them the baby was coming and also had called to check in with the midwives to tell them our progress.

The doula, Carol, helped me out of the bathtub and downstairs to get dressed. I remember dressing and her telling me how big my belly had gotten since she had last seen me. It’s true, it was like ten bowling balls!

I don’t think I’ve talked to much about what I was feeling up to this point. I was feeling anxious, scared, nervous. The pain was so intense. My body would shake with pain. I remember having to talk myself through the contractions. “it’s okay” was my mantra. I’ve had this for years and it comes out in times of serious need. I would say it over and over again when I was alone in the bedroom with a contraction. I dug in, I held on and I got through it. I knew that going through this labor naturally was what was best for me and Charles and I was going to give it my best shot. It was hard at home, my body was behaving in ways I did not know. Another thing we learned in birthing class helped me get through the contractions: PAIN- the contractions are Purposeful, Anticipated, Intermittent, Normal. And this helped. I remembered why I was doing this, who I was doing this for and I pushed on. In the bathtub things got harder because I was restricted by where and how I could move. Derek kept telling me to scream or moan or do whatever I needed, but I really couldn’t find the way that would help the most. When the doula came it was so helpful when she helped me focus my breathing.

We said goodbye to the dogs, Derek and Carol helped me down the front steps and into the backseat of the car. Derek situated pillows around me and we were off.

Damn, that drive. I just checked out. I knew I had to be calm, I knew that I had to sit still with that seat belt on. I knew that we had to get to the hospital. So I tried to keep my shit together. But quite frankly, I remember it taking toooo long! I would check in and out. I remember being on 540, I remember him merging on to 40. I remember the stop and go on 54. And finally I remember seeing the hospital and just being thankful. Especially because I was feeling nauseaus again. Derek was pulling through the valet parking and I was going to get sick again. I told him I needed to get out and he was flustered. I tried to open the back door but the damn child lock was on and I couldn’t get out, so he had to put it in park and come around and open the door for me. About 4 steps away from the car there was a railing and I walked up to it and just leaned over it and started getting sick. There were people walking by and I just couldn’t do anything but lean on that railing and let that contraction happen. Thank god we made it to the hospital. Derek walked up to me and guided me into the hospital. We went in, up the elevator and started to check in but I was way too far gone for what the front desk wanted from me. I was having contraction after contraction and they wanted my birthdate and for me to sign things! Derek handled it on while I leaned over on the counter feeling like I looked like a ghost and wanting to be somewhere I could feel comfortable instead of exposed out in the open like I was. They took me into the intake room and wanted to attach the monitors to my stomach to check on Charles. But, that wasn’t going to happen, I couldn’t just sit still and lay there. I needed to move. So they tried to hold them up to me and stick them to me but that wasn’t working. I remember a girl coming in and checking my dilation. She said I was a t 3 centimeters. After having been in labor as long as I was, with how much pain I was in, this was not music to my ears. I had a long ways to go.

They moved me into the birthing room and started preparing the bath tub so that I could use it. I got sick in the sink . Just a little lets make this room mine kinda deal, right? This was by far the most frustrating and worst part of the labor. I was having these huge painful contractions and there was nowhere for me to feel comfortable and “labor.” For whatever reason, sitting on the toilet made things feel better. So, that’s what I did. I sat on that toilet and rocked and moaned and hurt like hell. I shut that door and sat there alone and in there I felt somewhat ok. But oh my gosh, the staff was annoying. They wanted to check on the baby, they wanted me to come out of the bathroom. Me and that toilet were not getting separated.

I remember this moment when we first got into the room and a contraction starting. I just walked around looking at what to do to get through it and just not knowing where to go, what to do. It was so hard. I looked at Derek and just leaned on him, I put my arms around his neck and just put all my weight on him and he held me through that contraction. This was a moment of just pure bonding with me and Derek. It was love and support and strength. I was truly lost when we got to the hospital. I remember going into that bathroom, sitting down and having a contraction then coming out looking at Derek and the Doula and saying, I can’t do this. But just being so lost that I pushed on. We just kept down the path of our plan. Talking to Derek about this afterwards he said that he was going to support me until I said the code work for it’s time to get an epidural. I was in so much pain and just focused on getting through it- I forgot that I had a code word, let alone what it was!! Probably a good thing because I made it through.

I went in and sat on that toilet for a long while. People would come in and talk to me, I remember seeing the Doula’s face of “oh no” every once in awhile but trying to block it out. When she came in to talk to me I focused on her badge a lot. People would come in and try to monitor the baby, after not too long they wanted to put an IV in. We were pretty staunch about no interventions, but the Doula mentioned it would just keep me from getting dehydrated. So, we did this. And I continued sitting on the toilet in the bathroom. Thank god we went down the path of the midwives! They eventually gave up on me leaving the toilet and would come in to check on me/talk to me. Derek came in and would do coping skills with me. I was in too much pain near the end to be able to respond verbally but I did them in my head. I think he was pretty worried. The midwives came and had a birthing ball and wanted me to try that. I went out and tried it but it didn’t help much at that point. I had the huge sensation of needing to poop when I leaned over the birthing ball. We had only been at the hospital for maybe a little over an hour or two. No one thought it was time to push. Don’t’ push, don’t push leslie. But I needed to poop, they could talk it out amongst themselves, I was going to go back to the bathroom and poop! So, I went back to the toilet- my happy place. The midwife came in and sat across from me on this rolling stool that people had taken turns sitting in. I mostly remember Derek sitting in it trying to get me to do coping skills as I stared at his shirt and listed all the things that were blue in the room.

Now this is where one might think I was on drugs! The midwife was sitting across from me and getting ready to check my service. I looked at her and said “ I like you, you’re nice” and it was just this moment of ok, this is going to be ok. You are going to help me through this and I trust you. She said “I like you too” and then checked my cervix. She said I was at ten centimeters and ready to push! I was thrilled. I remember being pretty out of it and trance like. Let me compare this to the pediatric nurse that was there. She was awful- she was so damn pushy with those monitors, and rude and just not accommodating. Anyways, she said it was time to push and I climbed up on to that bed ready to go.

I got on the bed facing the wall on my hands and knees, because that is what felt right. The pushing experience was a whole different kind of pain. A true sense of relief in some ways and this immeasurable pain in others. I had to learn how to push. In the beginning I moaned in short breaths and pushed and not much progress would be made. I had to learn to push low and hard, to give it everything I had and then at the end hold it and push again- that is where the progress was made, that is when the baby descended more. It hurt, I squeezed Derek’s hand, I begged for cold water to be put on my neck, I moaned through each push and gave it everything I had. The breaks were true breaks and sometimes I didn’t want to start pushing again. Ok, this happened a lot. I feel like the pushing lasted so long. I had heard about people pushing three times and it was over. I pushed for over an hour. I was exhausted. In birthing class, they told us to reach down and feel the baby’s head to provide encouragement. I did this and still maybe 30 minutes of pushing. And that damn pediatric nurse was still reaching down, while I was pushing trying to monitor the baby. Seriously- he was descending through the birth canal, if his heart beat had problems I don’t think there was anything she could do at this point. I wanted to yell at her so much. I think eventually I asked her to stop., but she didn’t.

I remember at one point during the pushing apologizing to the midwife for my butt being in her face. The things that happen during labor! At least I was polite. I remember Derek holding my hand and me telling him to go watch if he wanted to, to go see his son being born. So, Carol took my hand and put water on my neck. I squeezed her hand and pushed for what felt like way too many times. I felt like he was coming half way out and then going back in. They said his shoulders were out and it would only be one more push, but then I remember pushing for 3-4 more times. Finally, he was out. I don’t remember his first cry, I remember the silence. Like in a movie when everything is in slow motion and there is no music, the utter contrast of the current to the past second is what defines the silence and the moment I remember the relief. I remember looking down and them passing him up into my arms. I remember the first time I held him and looked at his body. I remember smelling him and crying and feeling my heart grow an immeasurable amount. I remember my life changing in one fell swoop and knowing that my heart was his. I was a mom. My dream came true. I had a wonderful husband and we had a child together. I remember laying on my back, them resting him on my lower belly as we waited for the cord blood to go into his body and just holding him and looking at him with awe. The wave of love, the utter gratitude of this moment occurring was truly fantastic. I remember the first time I laid him on my chest and he held my finger. For one pure hour I held him and no one else could. He rested there, his sweet lips puckered and he tried to figure out nursing. I tried to figure out nursing. His hands were blue, his toes were blue. I wrapped him up in the blanket, I secured the hat on his head and we were two as one. This life that I had carried for nine months I could look at, I could dream about his future, I could touch. I heard his whimper, I touched his head, I counted his fingers and toes and just breathed in the happiness and contentment of a moment I will never forget. The moment that Charles Pierce was born and those first moments of his life. Our son. born 11: 57 am Tuesday October 30,2012. 7 pounds 10 ounces.

I remember the first time his Daddy held him. When Derek became a Daddy. The look of fear on his face, but also determination to raise a son who would be proud of his dad, a son that he had a good relationship with. I could see the hopes and dreams in Derek’s face and I was so happy for him. To see this dream in him that he never knew existed to come to fruition. That he was willing to take this scary leap with me into being parents.

I remember those first few moments of the three of us being together. The silence of being a family. The silence of the unknown. As we let the wave of the depth of the moment wash over us and sink in, we held hands, we kissed, we smiled.

Welcome to the world little Charles. Your parents love you so much and we are always going to try to do the best we can for you. We will fail, we will make mistakes, but we will always love you. And we will always love eachother. We will continue to create a family for you and be your family. The silence of love that needs not be spoken.

It was a cold evening October 29th- The birth story written by Derek

It was a cold evening October 29th, 2012 and there had been a light drizzle on and off for much of the evening. Leslie was now 9 days overdue and incredibly uncomfortable as her body continued to expand with new life snuggled inside her. She had been having Braxton hicks contractions for the previous three weeks and that night was no different. She informed me that she was not feeling well and now she had lower back pains to accompany the contractions. We looked hopefully at each other, maybe tonight was the night. We only had 3 days until the scheduled induction of labor with the drugs, IVs, and challenges to natural birth that would bring.   Neither of us wished for that conclusion so we each anxiously hoped both internally and externally that each night would bring this tardy child into the world. We both knew that the next two nights were our best chances. A full moon combined with a cold front colliding with a hurricane off the coast. These had to be harbingers to the events ahead, they just had to be. Dinner came and went and we both prepared for work the next day, a phone call from my parents “Is it coming?” for the umpteenth time, “not yet” as the seemingly eternal answer, and then to bed. I sighed as I went to sleep with the pleading thought “maybe tomorrow”.
    “Pookie, my water broke”. My reality came crashing to the surface of my murky dreamless sleep at 3:15am. I don’t understand, wait I do understand, right now, is she serious, where is my bag, no, where is her bag, why won’t my brain work, come on, click into gear. And so it begins with such a simple statement.
    Calm and happy and scared and relieved and and and. . .they all were on Leslie’s face as she said this simple statement. We had a plan and from my perspective we needed to execute it. Call the Doula, call my parents, get the bags in the car, put the scented rice pack in the microwave, lavender everywhere, calm music, get the exercise ball? I was not in a panic as you see in the movies where the bumbling husband runs around and acts the fool, but there was an urgency in my actions that would not be derailed. Leslie laughs because she remembers me running around and she still wonders what I was doing. I started timing her contractions and the first unexpected event of the labor reared its head. We read books, took classes, had a doula and hundred other sources of knowledge and they all said the same thing. Contractions start short in length and far apart from each other and get longer as you go along and closer together. Leslie’s contractions had no rhyme or reason except that some were closer together than I felt comfortable with.
    My first phone call to the doula was a perfunctory, water broke contractions have begun. Her answer was a very calm, you know what to do, call me back when the contractions are closer together. Well here it was less than 30 minutes later and some of Leslie’s contractions were 3 mins apart and she was in serious pain. My second call to the doula was a bit more panicked. Her contractions are crazy, some are 30 seconds long and 5 minutes apart and some are 60 seconds long and 3 mins apart and some are 90 seconds long and 10 minutes apart. . .what do we do. Her answer again was calm, when they are consistently 3-4 mins apart call me and I will come over. The next 2 hours were an extremely stressful time, her contractions were painful and she was extremely uncomfortable and her timing was still erratic. We tried all the positions on the ball and in the bed and we were doing the concentration techniques to deal with the pain. I was massaging her hand and feet and was trying to remain calm and in control. Nothing was helping as she was nearly in tears from the pain and kept asking me to do something to help. I suggested the bath and around 6am helped her into the warm tub.
    The bath helped relax her but her pain seemed to intensify and the contractions were getting longer. I nervously called the Doula for the 3rd time and exasperatedly she agreed to come over to assess the situation and she could always just go home if it wasn’t time yet. She arrived at the house around 7:30-8am. She entered the bathroom where Leslie was in the tub doing her best to keep her modesty with a wet towel. She was moaning and saying ‘is it time yet’? The Doula told me to go take a break to collect myself and eat some breakfast. I was halfway through making some leftovers from the previous night when I heard the Doula call my name. I found her outside the bathroom and she whispered in my ear ‘Get the car ready it’s time to go, right now’. My heart begin to pound and adrenaline begin to pump through my veins.
    The doula helped Leslie get dressed and we slowly helped her into the car. She sat in the back seat because the front seat was so uncomfortable to sit in while pregnant and at this point in time she was in need of as much comfort as possible. I got in the car and drove. I had the urge to drive as fast as possible juxtaposed with the need to drive as carefully as possible to somehow make every turn wide and avoid every bump in the road. I tried to talk to her throughout the drive letting her know she was fine and we were getting closer. Leslie sat with her head in her hand leaning against the window with her only communication coming in gasps of pain intermingled with ‘how close’ and ‘I think I am going to puke’. I wish I could have held her hand, it was a long drive to Chapel Hill. I pulled up to the Valet parking and she couldn’t get out of the car because the child lock was on. I ran around the car and opened the door, she promptly got out and vomited on the flowerbed. I will never forget the look of woman walking past, I was expecting surprise or disgust at the scene before her but instead there was a look of wistful happiness. I knew this was a mother. We arrived at the hospital at around 9:30am, 6 hours after her water broke.
    The next hour was probably the most frustrating hour of the whole ordeal. Once you check in they put you in a tiny closet sized room called triage where they evaluate you for an hour before admitting you. The bed was tiny and uncomfortable, there were annoying beeps from hospital equipment, and people coming in and out all the time to check in on her. This was also the room where they do the initial cervix check. I was hoping it would be around 7cm but was prepared for 5. “Sir, your wife is dialated 3cm”. Defeating. In a word the mood of the room dropped, the doula looked incredulous, Leslie looked shocked and upset, and I am sure my jaw dropped at least a tiny amount. How was this possible, her contractions are long and close together and she is in so much pain.   It was such an exhausting morning, how much longer could she hold out. Leslie and I wanted a natural child birth so much but this news was defeating.
    The hour was up and her and the babies heart rates were looking good, on to the delivery room. The delivery room was state of the art; a bed that twisted and moved into any position you would need, with grip bars, exercise balls, a whirlpool sized bath tub, HDTV, and a million other devices one would need for a successful birth. Turns out all we needed was a toilet. The first place she went once in the room was the bathroom and there she stayed for the next half hour, comfortable and unmoving. I was worried the news about being 3cms had put her into a mental daze. She was unfocused, hazy, and seemed a little lost. The nurses came to me and said they needed to give her an IV since she wasn’t holding down any fluids. I was very hesitant since I was her advocate and she had mentioned she didn’t want to be tethered to the bed. The doula and the nurse finally convinced me once they explained they would use a mobile IV and it was the best way to keep her hydrated during the long ordeal to come.
    The IV was inserted while in the bathroom and we finally convinced her that walking around a bit would help her with the labor and make her more comfortable than sitting on the toilet. At this point I was really beginning to worry, Leslie was still in a daze and was beginning to ask if medication was the way to go, the pain was obviously debilitating. Seeing the person you love more than yourself in such pain and trying to convince her(and myself) to keep going without medicine as previously agreed was an incredible test of will. She still had not used the code word for ‘abandon the plan give me the drugs’ so I continued to support her the best I could. At that point she looked at me and said, I need to poop. In the delivery room decorum is not really important. I looked at the midwife and asked her to help move Leslie to the bathroom so she could poop. The midwife gave me a strange look and asked me to repeat myself. So I did and she explained that she shouldn’t be having the urge to poop which is also the urge to push with such a small cervix dialation. She told Leslie not to poop or push until she could check it again. She checked her cervix again and with a look of great surprise she says to the nurse in the room “she’s at 10cm, get the team ready we are moving her to bed to start active labor”. EGADS!!!! She went from 3cm to 10cm in less than 30 mins. Either there was a mistake to begin with or the long car ride had an adverse effect on the cervix. Around 11 am Leslie begin to push..
    The miracle of life. Leslie moved to the bed and got in the position that she was most comfortable in, on her elbows and knees face down. I don’t remember the contractions stopping like they told us in class, I just remember Leslie pushing almost immediately. At first they were intense short pushes but the midwives were encouraging her to hold her pushes longer. Leslie was exhausted and emotional. She told the midwife in a break between pushes that she really liked her and thought she was nice. My job through all of this was support. I apparently was at loss to say anything other than “I love you, you are doing great” but I made up for this by saying it A LOT. I brought her ice chips to chew on and held her hand when she needed me to. I nestled my head next to hers and encouraged her the best I could. I was in awe of the immense power she had within her to push past the exhaustion and continue to make progress one contraction at a time. Time seemed to rush by and stand still all at the same time. The crown of the head was visable and I could see a head full of hair every time she pushed. I knew we were close but I dared not say it out loud as I had been warned in class of the perils of false hope.
    Leslie was now beyond exhausted and she was beginning to wane. The midwife then promised her she was almost there and to just keep pushing and it would be over soon. I held her hand tight and finally with a mighty primal grunt she pushed and the midwives and nurses started bustling around and I knew he must be out. The midwife quickly pushed our baby between Leslie’s legs into her arms. Leslie quickly flipped over to her back and tried to pull him up to her chest but unfortunately the umbilical cord was short so she could only pull him up to her belly. They covered him in a blanket and we let the umbilical cord continue pumping until it was finished. They clamped the cord and handed me the scissors and I dutifully cut the cord. In a flash our baby was pulled up to her bossom and my new life as a father had begun.

Monday, August 19, 2013

My sweet puppy

This post is written by Derek. If you have any inclination to show your support, please send him an email (derek.d.payne@gmail.com). we are both struggling with this so much. I will do a post on my grief and remembering Haplo in the next few days.

This page is normally reserved for happy whims, reflections of milestones, and moments we want to remember forever. Leslie does a wonderful job of updating the blog and has a way of expressing emotion with words that I struggle with. However today is different, today is not whimsical or happy; nor do I wish to remember the events of the last week, however I feel I need to write about our sadness.

My sweet puppy Haplo passed away.

It is a paltry lamentation for an event that has shaken me to my core and brought waves of despair as well as unrelenting sorrow and grief to our perfect family. I want to pour my emotion into the sentence so everybody can see the ink black with sadness writhing with pen strokes of anger and self doubt. I want to release this pain onto the paper, into the paper ripping it to shreds, breaking reality so I can reach into the void and pull my best friend back into my lap one more time.

My sweet puppy Haplo passed away.

It seems insufficient, it does not radiate the happiness that Haplo brought. . no, forced upon you, with every ounce of his being. It needs to shake like his whole body shook when he wagged, as though his tail was too short to exclaim the joy he ached to share. I want to etch vivid memories into the reader so they experience the life which can not be documented with weightless adjectives. The words should be a fury of teeth, fur, tongue and paw imploring you to accept the full crushing weight of his love and startle emptiness of his absence.

My sweet puppy Haplo passed away.

These are the words I wrote minutes after finding out, still in shock and lost in grief. Just a note to work to let them know I would not be coming in that day. Just six words. Just a lifetime cut short. Just a dog. Unjust. Unfair. Uncomprehending. No, not just a dog. My dog, my best friend, my shadow, my alarm clock, my therapy, my stress relief, my family. I read once that grief was not a dark tunnel that you come out clean on the other side but a tar pit that you thrash around in till you come to the surface scalded, tarred and forever changed. I am still thrashing but I am fortunate to have a wonderful wife and we are helping each other to the surface. We can tend each others burns and help each other change for the better. And maybe one day the tar will fade, I hope not at the sacrifice of our memories of Haplo.

I will share one such memory here to give you an idea of his kindness. Recently I was feeling under the weather and was a bit irascible and had snapped at my wife to leave me alone. As I made my way to the couch Haplo, as always, was under foot. I irritably push him aside and yelled ‘you are always in my way’. I curled up on the couch and pulled the blanket over my head to complete my pity party. I felt the blanket start to move and wondered who was disturbing my grump fest. But then I felt a wet warm tongue licking my ear and realized Haplo had managed to worm his way under my blanket to find my face. Nestling further in, he laid his head on my chest and there we sat together in our fort. As the minutes passed and I rubbed the ridge from his nose to his forehead, I begin to feel better. I apologized to him for pushing him out of the way, relinquished my blanket fort, found Leslie and made amends for being a jerk earlier. This may seem to be a small moment out of all the great memories I have of him but that moment was repeated a thousand times in the three short years I had with him. That is what Haplo gave to me, happiness and allowing me to be the best person I could be at each moment.

I am still sad, a bit lost and I continue to expect him at my foot every time I turn around. I know it is darkest before the dawn and I know that it can get no darker because my shadow is gone. Our pack has lost one of it’s members and we are all sad but together we will forge on and hope the dawn breaks soon. I wish I could say it better. I wish I didn’t have to say it at all.

My sweet puppy Haplo passed away.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Bumblebees eat bo berry biscuits for breakfast at the beach

We made a day trip to the beach. Chip was ready-he woke up that morning saying the b sound for the first time . The weather was overcast and the sun came out later in the day. The water was too cold to get in but the people watching was great and we played in the sand a smidge. So glad we had the sun protector tent it kept him cool when it got really hot and he even took his nap in it without a problem.