My poor Clara Dog is in the hospital. Again, the look of betrayal as I left her. Poor pup. You were exactly right, It Is What It Is. She tore her anterior cruciate ligament and will be having the TPLO (Tibial Plateau Leveling Osteotomy) surgery in the morning and it is costing me about $3000.00. The surgery involves breaking the bone and resetting the joint so that it’s at a different angle and putting it all back together with plates and screws. I told her she would be my bionic dog now. The vet said it is very likely to happen to the other joint eventually. The specialist veterinarian seemed knowledgeable, the assistants were kind and the clinic seemed top notch. I know she’s in good hands. I hope she forgives me for leaving her there. And I hope she’s not in too much pain afterwards.
My dad actually suggested having her put down. After which I began to cry. So insensitive.
The house sure is empty without her.
SC and I go to the same counselor. I haven’t been to counseling for 3 years and I couldn’t get an appointment until January 10. SC had an appointment for tonight and she generously gave it to me. She pretty much insisted I take it. This is one of the nicest things anyone has done for me through all of this.
Not sure what to say about counseling. In the past, I always walked out of there feeling stronger. Not this time. I feel only broken and exhausted. We seemed to cover a lot but it just didn’t seem to help at all.
I told her one of my big worries. I made it clear that I’m not going to harm myself but I think a lot about being with my baby and it seems such a long life to live without him. I told her all about wanting to put the casket in my purse and having the crazy thought of myself running down the street with it under my coat. And wishing everyday that he was with me or I was with him. She didn’t bat an eyelash…..but she didn’t really say it wasn’t crazy either.
She asked about what happened in the hospital, what it took to get pregnant, if I held him and what he looked like and if I named him. She asked about the funeral. She asked what I have to remember him by. She asked how the crying was going. I almost told her to just read this blog.
She asked how much in love I was with my baby.
She asked about trying again.
She told me one in three pregnancies end in miscarriage.
She said many of the things everyone else has said. It takes time, the hurt will never go completely away, etc. She seemed pleased that I write so much and that I’m planning on going to a support group.
I wish I could say I felt stronger or felt some sort of comfort, but I don’t.