On Saturday morning, the only woman I ever knew as "Grandma", went into the hospital for shortness of breathe and dizziness. Doctor's ran a series of tests and couldn't find anything seriously wrong other then her electrolytes seemed off. She was kept overnight and plans were made for most tests on Monday.
She never made it to those tests. Instead, she collapsed in the hospital on Sunday night and was air lifted to a more comprehensive hospital near by. I was standing in my yard as the helicopter carrying her flew overhead. I remember watching the blue helicopter disappear over the tree line as I said a quick prayer for everyone on board.
Later we learned that she suffered a stroke and lost all brain function on one side. She was removed from life support and now we are waiting for her to be called home.
While, I've known her as Grandma for 31 years, the truth is, my Grandma died 47 years ago. I never knew her.
My Grandpa's second wife is a nice woman. She remembers birthdays, anniversaries and special occasions. She treated me no differently then she'd treat anyone she met. We didn't have a special relationship. We didn't do your typical Grandma/Granddaughter stuff. My most vivid memory of her as a child is when I invited her to Grandparents Days in third grade. All the students made kites to fly with their special guests. She told me I made my kite wrong and corrected several of my other classmates for various infractions. The next day my dad brought home a thank you note she wrote me. It confused me. Why thank someone for an event you didn't really seem to enjoy?
We never shared a private joke or a public one for that matter. She didn't come visit Ryan when he was born. When she met him, at 3 months old, she didn't want to touch him for fear he had germ. As the months went on, she would ask about him from time to time, but she never made over him or asked when I would bring him by again. She spent most of my pregnancy telling me my belly wasn't big enough and thus something must be wrong.
She thought it was strange when Mr. Berg changed jobs, even though the change meant more money and more quality time at home.
So needless to say, I'm feeling rather conflicted. While I am sad she's dying, my sadness is more for the people closest to her. I'm sorry for her biological children. I'm sorry for my dad and his siblings that she adopted when she married my Grandpa. They are now losing a third parent.
I'm sad her death hasn't been quick. I'm sad for aftermath of death is about to bring us.
But my sadness seems to end there. Thus, my issue with this strange feeling of guilt. I didn't really have much of a relationship with her. I didn't really ever know how to interact with her in life. I'm having trouble understanding my emotions around her death.
Thus, strange guilt. I wish I knew what to do with it.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Friday, July 11, 2014
Moving On....
Over the past three days I've been slowly transitioning Sophie's things out of the house. It's been a sad process.
On the day she died I stuck her bowl in the dishwasher and took her bed out to the garage. Not because I didn't want to look at it anymore.Rather- for my practical reasons: I didn't need a toddler throwing kibble that wasn't ever going to be eaten and her bed was well.... part of great accident of 2014.
So, yeah... necessary.
Ryan has asked for her at least 20 times. It's hard to explain to a toddler what Heaven is. Right now he keeps telling me that she's ow'side (outside- in toddler speak) which is philosophically and some what technically true. So we're sticking with that story. (Even though we all know Sophie was strictly an inside cat)
Oh Monday I have promised myself that I will get back on the stick with workouts. The scale is up like 3 pounds from a week and a half ago. Which is completely INSANE! That...... and my pants.... they don't fit.
It's going to be weird, Sophie was my work out buddy. I often joked she was my spotter or my coach. A lazy coach who often feel asleep while I was working out. She only would wake up during floor exercises or ab work. Then she'd come over to lick the sweat off my brow and try to sit on my belly. It annoyed me so much back then....
I'm...... I'm at a loss about all of this.
I cried more when Bob died. I think because he died so suddenly, even though he had been sick for so long.
Sophie wasn't sick for very long and her death was more scheduled and sudden.
My husband pointed out that I had more time to mourn for Sophie while she was still with us. I had time to process her illness and knew what to do when the time came.
That didn't make it any less hard, but less emotional? Maybe
She was a constant in my life for 17 years, half my life. She saw me grow up, go off to college, start graduate school, she stayed up with me during late night study sessions and celebrated with me on my graduation day. She live with me in my first apartments and moved home with me when I started my career at Family Owned, Inc. She was waiting for me when I came home from my honeymoon and fussed over me when I was pregnant. She then promptly ignored my offspring for 6 weeks (sharing was never her strong suit). Through all of that, she was there.
Now, I'm trying to replace old habits and not cry at strange moments. Like at the check in line in the grocery store when I realized I could start using reusable bags since I didn't need the plastic ones for the cat litter anymore.
Someday I'm sure I'll stop trying to keep the basement door open for her or stop looking up from the deck to see if she's watching me from the sliding door. Someday I'll stop looking for her when I get home from work or after I put Ryan to bed and the house is quiet.
Someday, I hope soon, I won't feel her loss with every heart beat in our house.
On the day she died I stuck her bowl in the dishwasher and took her bed out to the garage. Not because I didn't want to look at it anymore.Rather- for my practical reasons: I didn't need a toddler throwing kibble that wasn't ever going to be eaten and her bed was well.... part of great accident of 2014.
So, yeah... necessary.
Ryan has asked for her at least 20 times. It's hard to explain to a toddler what Heaven is. Right now he keeps telling me that she's ow'side (outside- in toddler speak) which is philosophically and some what technically true. So we're sticking with that story. (Even though we all know Sophie was strictly an inside cat)
Oh Monday I have promised myself that I will get back on the stick with workouts. The scale is up like 3 pounds from a week and a half ago. Which is completely INSANE! That...... and my pants.... they don't fit.
It's going to be weird, Sophie was my work out buddy. I often joked she was my spotter or my coach. A lazy coach who often feel asleep while I was working out. She only would wake up during floor exercises or ab work. Then she'd come over to lick the sweat off my brow and try to sit on my belly. It annoyed me so much back then....
I'm...... I'm at a loss about all of this.
I cried more when Bob died. I think because he died so suddenly, even though he had been sick for so long.
Sophie wasn't sick for very long and her death was more scheduled and sudden.
My husband pointed out that I had more time to mourn for Sophie while she was still with us. I had time to process her illness and knew what to do when the time came.
That didn't make it any less hard, but less emotional? Maybe
She was a constant in my life for 17 years, half my life. She saw me grow up, go off to college, start graduate school, she stayed up with me during late night study sessions and celebrated with me on my graduation day. She live with me in my first apartments and moved home with me when I started my career at Family Owned, Inc. She was waiting for me when I came home from my honeymoon and fussed over me when I was pregnant. She then promptly ignored my offspring for 6 weeks (sharing was never her strong suit). Through all of that, she was there.
Now, I'm trying to replace old habits and not cry at strange moments. Like at the check in line in the grocery store when I realized I could start using reusable bags since I didn't need the plastic ones for the cat litter anymore.
Someday I'm sure I'll stop trying to keep the basement door open for her or stop looking up from the deck to see if she's watching me from the sliding door. Someday I'll stop looking for her when I get home from work or after I put Ryan to bed and the house is quiet.
Someday, I hope soon, I won't feel her loss with every heart beat in our house.
Someday, I won't be so sad anymore.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
The Good Kitty
Sophie went to heaven this morning.
To say I am heartbroken would probably be the understatement of the century. I am just that. Heartbroken.
To say I am heartbroken would probably be the understatement of the century. I am just that. Heartbroken.
I miss her like crazy already. Yet, at the same time, I am filled with a very comforting sense of peace. It was her time to go. She needed to be free from pain and discomfort and diabetes.
She went peacefully and gracefully.
Last night I was filled with mixed emotions knowing that her time was coming. She was having such a good day. No accidents or pain. It almost seemed unfair to take her in. Even this morning, she greeted me as I came down the stairs and was moving around so well. I asked God for a sign and within a minute or two it was given. Sophie had a accident so big, even my curtains needed a trip to the dry cleaner.
It was time.
She was extra patient with Ryan this morning as he gave her kisses goodbye. She sniffed his little blond head and then looked at me as if to say "This will all be okay."
She knew, I knew, it was time.
Mr. Berg nicknamed Sophie "The Good Kitty" shortly after we started dating. She hardly shed, she didn't throw up on the regular and while she enjoyed a good chin scratch and a quiet moment on your lap, she mostly wanted her own space.
For my she was equal parts mischievous, adventurous, tender hearted and kind. My former roommate described her as a pistol. She was exactly that.
She left a huge paw print on my heart for never having weighted more then 11 pounds.
It's my opinion that she'll really enjoy heaven, once Bob stops licking her ears.
(I'm willing to bet he really missed her)
She went peacefully and gracefully.
Last night I was filled with mixed emotions knowing that her time was coming. She was having such a good day. No accidents or pain. It almost seemed unfair to take her in. Even this morning, she greeted me as I came down the stairs and was moving around so well. I asked God for a sign and within a minute or two it was given. Sophie had a accident so big, even my curtains needed a trip to the dry cleaner.
It was time.
She was extra patient with Ryan this morning as he gave her kisses goodbye. She sniffed his little blond head and then looked at me as if to say "This will all be okay."
She knew, I knew, it was time.
Mr. Berg nicknamed Sophie "The Good Kitty" shortly after we started dating. She hardly shed, she didn't throw up on the regular and while she enjoyed a good chin scratch and a quiet moment on your lap, she mostly wanted her own space.
For my she was equal parts mischievous, adventurous, tender hearted and kind. My former roommate described her as a pistol. She was exactly that.
She left a huge paw print on my heart for never having weighted more then 11 pounds.
It's my opinion that she'll really enjoy heaven, once Bob stops licking her ears.
(I'm willing to bet he really missed her)
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
The Phone Call
Alternate Title: The Shittiest Thing I've Ever Had to Google
Our poor Sophie Cat is reaching the end of her days. Between her advanced age, her arthritis and her diabetes, the odds are continuously stacking against her. She has her good days and her bad days. Lately, most of her good days are shadowed by the bad. She's gone from having accidents just outside her box on pee pads to all over the house. It's not exactly fun to come home every day and play the "find the puddle" game. It's especially not fun to play with a two year old.
I know she finds it embarrassing. I know she hates it just as much as I do.
On her good days she runs around the house and snuggles with Ryan. She watches us play in the living room, perched up on the ottoman on or the sofa. She relaxes in her bed while I make dinner or argue with Ryan over how many fruit snack packs are appropriate at snack time. (The answer is two, in case you were wondering)
Those are the times I find myself thinking- she's not ready.
But when I find her searching for the quietest, darkest place in the house or when she lays on the kitchen floor because she just can't go anywhere else or when she can't jump up on the sofa to sit with me. I know her can't go on like that.
Honestly, I know it's time.
She's on the downward slope. She will never get better. She will only get worse.
But 17 years of history and companionship keep me from picking up the phone and making the call.
Our poor Sophie Cat is reaching the end of her days. Between her advanced age, her arthritis and her diabetes, the odds are continuously stacking against her. She has her good days and her bad days. Lately, most of her good days are shadowed by the bad. She's gone from having accidents just outside her box on pee pads to all over the house. It's not exactly fun to come home every day and play the "find the puddle" game. It's especially not fun to play with a two year old.
I know she finds it embarrassing. I know she hates it just as much as I do.
On her good days she runs around the house and snuggles with Ryan. She watches us play in the living room, perched up on the ottoman on or the sofa. She relaxes in her bed while I make dinner or argue with Ryan over how many fruit snack packs are appropriate at snack time. (The answer is two, in case you were wondering)
Those are the times I find myself thinking- she's not ready.
But when I find her searching for the quietest, darkest place in the house or when she lays on the kitchen floor because she just can't go anywhere else or when she can't jump up on the sofa to sit with me. I know her can't go on like that.
Honestly, I know it's time.
She's on the downward slope. She will never get better. She will only get worse.
But 17 years of history and companionship keep me from picking up the phone and making the call.
I'm the one that's not ready.
I don't know if I can form the words to make the statement. I don't know how to talk to her vet about it without sounding like an ass. This is how I ended up goggling "Cat Euthanasia" this morning. Aside from some really sick people who "do it themselves" (shutter), I found a whole host of people that were in my same boat. There is no easy way to say, it's time.
I keep telling myself it is far better to do it now, while she still knows that life is good. I'd rather watch her go happily and peacefully then uncomfortable and miserable.
I keep telling myself it is far better to do it now, while she still knows that life is good. I'd rather watch her go happily and peacefully then uncomfortable and miserable.
I keep thinking about Bob and how easy of a decision it was to make. I had done everything I could. He was so sick, so suddenly.
Sophie's decline has been gradual and graceful. It would be wrong of me to string her along, waiting for the enviable to happen on it's own.
She has always done right by me. It's up to me to do right by her.
I just don't want to make that phone call.
Sophie's decline has been gradual and graceful. It would be wrong of me to string her along, waiting for the enviable to happen on it's own.
She has always done right by me. It's up to me to do right by her.
I just don't want to make that phone call.
Monday, July 7, 2014
What If?
I'm just going to come right out and say it:
I'm in a funk.
I don't think I'm depressed, I don't think I'm just off my game, I'm not just having a bad day.... I'm just... in a funk....
Right now I feel like I'm constantly waiting for something, but what that something is, I haven't a clue.
I'm satisfied in my life. I love my family, my job sustains me and keeps me going, I miss having local friends but I'm working on that.
I've fallen off of some of my usual routines, healthy eating, menu planning, early morning workouts, that usual.
Any time I think about starting up again, I get caught up in the details.....
How should I schedule my workout rotations?
What menu should I use to ensure I satisfy my macros?
How will this change should I get pregnant this month?
What if Ryan wakes up too early?
What if I don't get to bed on time?
How will I clean the house, do the mom stuff, make like perfect and still have down time at the end of the night?
WHAT IF I JUST STOPPED WORRYING ABOUT ALL OF THAT CRAP?
What if instead of focusing on all the road blocks, I start focusing on all the results?
What if I just set a time to workout every day and did whatever workout I felt like doing that morning?
What if I stuck to menu planning and prepped on Sundays like I used to?
What if I total macros and low carb and protein only diet ideas to shut it and just focused on eating clean and proper portion sizes?
What if I just let go of all the noise and didn't buy into all the hype?
I think that just might cure the funk.....
Call me crazy, but that might just be something I can get behind...
I'm in a funk.
I don't think I'm depressed, I don't think I'm just off my game, I'm not just having a bad day.... I'm just... in a funk....
Right now I feel like I'm constantly waiting for something, but what that something is, I haven't a clue.
I'm satisfied in my life. I love my family, my job sustains me and keeps me going, I miss having local friends but I'm working on that.
I've fallen off of some of my usual routines, healthy eating, menu planning, early morning workouts, that usual.
Any time I think about starting up again, I get caught up in the details.....
How should I schedule my workout rotations?
What menu should I use to ensure I satisfy my macros?
How will this change should I get pregnant this month?
What if Ryan wakes up too early?
What if I don't get to bed on time?
How will I clean the house, do the mom stuff, make like perfect and still have down time at the end of the night?
WHAT IF I JUST STOPPED WORRYING ABOUT ALL OF THAT CRAP?
What if instead of focusing on all the road blocks, I start focusing on all the results?
What if I just set a time to workout every day and did whatever workout I felt like doing that morning?
What if I stuck to menu planning and prepped on Sundays like I used to?
What if I total macros and low carb and protein only diet ideas to shut it and just focused on eating clean and proper portion sizes?
What if I just let go of all the noise and didn't buy into all the hype?
I think that just might cure the funk.....
Call me crazy, but that might just be something I can get behind...
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Morning Converstations
Today while trying to get Ryan out the door.....
Me: Ryan, come on over and get your hat we need to leave.
Ryan: No Mama
M: Ryan, come on, it's time to go!
R: No Mama (runs into living room)
M: Ryan, where are you going?
R: I sing! (breaks into stirring rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat complete with hand motions)
M: Buddy, we gotta go
R: Mama.... (long pause)....... Dance!
(starts spinning in circles, wagging his fingers back in forth)
Doo, Doot, Dooooo...... Doooo, Doot, Do!
M: Ryan, are you sure it's dance time?
(hears running)
R: Mama! Go! School!!
(holds up hat while standing next to the door)
And I wonder why I'm exhausted all the time......
Me: Ryan, come on over and get your hat we need to leave.
Ryan: No Mama
M: Ryan, come on, it's time to go!
R: No Mama (runs into living room)
M: Ryan, where are you going?
R: I sing! (breaks into stirring rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat complete with hand motions)
M: Buddy, we gotta go
R: Mama.... (long pause)....... Dance!
(starts spinning in circles, wagging his fingers back in forth)
Doo, Doot, Dooooo...... Doooo, Doot, Do!
M: Ryan, are you sure it's dance time?
(hears running)
R: Mama! Go! School!!
(holds up hat while standing next to the door)
And I wonder why I'm exhausted all the time......
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