It's time :(

I knew we couldn’t leave Moorka at the shelter the moment James picked her up in his arms.  She turned into this ball of fluff when he held her and I just knew she belonged with us.  When James put her down, she ran up a ramp into a little loft area, and just sat there staring at us, her beautiful green eyes burning into mine.  We were told she was borderline feral, and hadn’t lasted a week in her last foster home.  We knew it was a risk taking her in, given she was high needs, so we weren’t sure if we should be taking that on or not.  James found Fiona (at the time her name was ‘Benzie, because of her bent tail) and we both agreed she seemed very affectionate, which was what we were hoping for in a cat.  So we decided to adopt her instead…but I kept going back to Moorka, and I said I didn’t want to leave without her.  We couldn’t afford to buy two cats (they were $100 each) so it was suggested we foster her, and decide later on if she was a right fit.  I knew in my heart the moment we took her home that she was never going back to that shelter.

Over the past 7 years since we brought them home, Fifi’s personality has stayed the same, as I believe she was always an outgoing, happy-go-lucky sort of girl.  Moorka, on the other hand, changed in so many ways.  For a while she was apprehensive, and sometimes swiped at us.  She’d had a tough life before she came to be ours.  She was found in an empty storage unit with a litter of kittens.  She went to several houses before she found her way to us.  But we were patient with her, and we did our best to provide her with love, care, and we made sure she never felt abandoned by us.  In the past several years, she became so at ease with us that she began coming up to us for love and attention on a regular basis.  After a trip to the groomer to get the Lion’s Cut, she discovered her love of water, and from there on in always sat in the bathroom with whoever was in the bathtub, hoping to get some water poured over her head and back. 

Moorka was – and is – such a special cat.  She just has this charm about her.  And the softest, most beautiful coat I’ve ever seen.  She was always a good girl, never did anything to get into mischief.  She was quiet, but with a large presence.  I’ve enjoyed just knowing she’s there, and with being a stay-at-home mom I’ve gotten so used to her little routines each day.

It’s hard to believe that Moorka will no longer be with us as of this afternoon.  I still feel like this isn’t really happening.  I want to stay in denial as long as I can.  She started on a rapid decline last night, and is having trouble breathing, can’t eat or drink or use the litter box.  She has finally ventured off Andrew’s bed after peeing all over it, and has moved from one blanket to another in the living room, struggling to get comfortable.  She let’s out a little noise every now and then that makes my heart hurt.  I know it’s time, and I know we’re making the right decision, but I just don’t know how it’s going to be around here without our Big Russian Girl (one of her nicknames, since ‘Moorka’ is Russian for ‘mother’).

This is so hard, but it’s time for us to say our goodbyes.

I don't want to face reality...

I’ve been telling myself over and over that Moorka is strong and will fight her illness and get better.  I’ve needed to try to make myself feel better…I guess because I can’t stand the idea of losing her.  When my family cat Rosy died, we were ‘lucky’ that she died at home, at the ripe old age of 19, in my mother’s arms.  Lucky because no one had to make the decision to end her life for her.  She was scheduled to go to the vet’s for her final visit the next morning, but she had other plans, and I’m glad of that because at least we all knew with 100% certainty that it was her time.

With James’ family cat, that we had with us for 5 years, we had to make that terrible decision to put her to sleep (at age 16).  From the time we figured out something was definitely wrong to the time she was gone was a mere 3 days.  It felt like the longest 3 days ever at the time, but it all happened so fast.  At the time I hated that it all happened so fast because I didn’t get a chance to wrap my head around what was happening.  There was no time.  She was suddenly so gravely ill, and seemingly out of nowhere.  (In reality, she’d had a few strange behaviours for some time – but cats are so good at hiding it so much that you don’t even notice till it’s too late).

Now I wonder if maybe it was a blessing in disguise that it all happened so quickly.  It wasn’t drawn out, with our knowledge that the inevitable was looming.  I’m finding it hard with Moorka, because I KNOW she’s not well, and I KNOW her age (14) is not on her side.  I know she doesn’t have long, but I don’t know how long she would be here if we left it up to fate to choose her time.

I didn’t want to believe she was so far gone because she was still eating and drinking, even sometimes laying on the rug in the living room to be close to us.  To me, if she’s still doing those things, she’s got to be OK enough.  But in the past few days, she hasn’t really been venturing far at all.  I can’t even get her to take the pills – her last one was yesterday morning, and it was like pulling teeth convincing her to eat the food with it in it (there’s no way I can force her mouth open and pop it in – she struggles to get away, and in doing so I know it’s hurting her tummy, so I can’t do that to her).  She wouldn’t take the pill last night, turned up her nose at the food this morning (I even tried different mixtures, different treat, nothing worked) and I tried again just a little while ago with no success.  She even turned to lay a different way, which I know is not a good sign at all.  I got closer to her, and she seems really smelly.  I don’t know how to describe it, maybe it’s because she’s not bathing herself anymore.  She just smells like a dirty cat, and that’s so not like her.  When I was giving her some pets and attention a little while ago, I noticed she’s not breathing quite right.  She makes a little noise with each breathe, and it seems strained.  I feel terrible.  I keep taking deep breaths, trying to figure out how I’m going to do this.

I hate to make the decision to hasten her death.  Even with Tinker, who was vomiting up some terrible stuff, and exhibiting some other very obvious signs of illness, I felt like a murderer for pulling the plug on her.  Who am I to make that decision for someone who can’t speak for themselves?  On the other hand, I KNOW it’s the right thing to do…If I was that sick and there was going to be no end to it, I don’t think I’d be too pleased if people just sat there doing nothing but trying to force pills down my throat.  I know Moorka isn’t well, and it’s not fair to keep her like this.  Right?  I guess I’ve been wanting to hold onto the hope that she might bounce back, that her condition maybe isn’t as bad as the vet suggested.  But she’s declining, and it’s so hard to see her like this.

It’s going to break my heart, but I think we’re going to have sit down with Andrew and tell him it’s time to say goodbye.  I’ve talked to him a bit about the fact that she’s sick and we don’t know how long she has with us, so we have to enjoy the time we do have.  Ever since he brings it up randomly, and will whimper and cry about it because he doesn’t want Moorka to go away.  He keeps asking if she’ll come back.  Then he mentions other people and asked me the other day if he’s going to die, too.  I hate the death part of life, I really, really do.  I told him that everyone dies one day, but that he wouldn’t die for such a long, long, LONG time that it wasn’t something he needed to worry about or even think about.  He is such a sensitive soul, and seems to understand grief in a way that I didn’t think a 3 year old should.  I don’t know if I’m approaching talking to him about loss the right way…I don’t know if there IS a right way.  I’m doing my best to make sure he’s not scared (even though it obviously is something that scares me!)  It’s hard because I know he’s going to miss Moorka, and I have to let him grieve for her.  There’s no way around all of us feeling the sadness of losing her.

I just can’t believe this is happening.  But I know I have to stay strong, and do the right thing for Moorka’s sake.

Here are some pictures of her that I came across today that I adore:

 I love this girl.

Who doesn't love a good rug?

Here’s a light, random post to mix things up on here a bit.  I don’t even know what inspired me to write about the topic of carpet, but here we are…!

I’ve always loved rugs – and I’m not talking bad toupees here, I mean floor rugs!  In particular, I’ve always had a thing for funkier rugs.  They can add a fun element to an otherwise drab looking floor, and they have the added bonus of cozy comfort.

When I was a kid living at home with my parents, one outlet of self-expression I had was painting my bedroom all sorts of crazy colours.  It went from peach, to blue, to green/purple/dark blue (all 3 at once, in different places) with wall murals (self-drawn), to black.  The last paint job I did in there was completely black – even the ceiling!  It was a great outlet for me, I loved being able to do whatever I wanted with my room.

When I moved out, reality set in that if I painted the walls crazy colours, there was a good chance I’d regret it when it came time to move out.  (My parents got the unlucky job of painting out my old bedroom, and I’m pretty sure my dad cursed me numerous times while doing three coats of paint to lighten the ceiling…I can’t say as I blame him).  I did paint a few small ‘feature’ walls in James and my first apartment, (my favourite was a bright greenish yellow, I think it was called Gator Green if I recall correctly) but otherwise the colours remained light and ‘unobtrusive’.  In other words, slightly boring.  What can I say, I’ve always had a flair for colour!

The gator green wall acts as a backdrop for Pinks.  See the small picture of the full Pink Panther within the larger one?  That was the colour of one of my bedroom walls, when I first painted PP in my bedroom.  The one in the frame my dad actually cut out of the wall so I could keep part of Pinks forever!  This was on display in James and my first apartment.

  

My first rug purchase after moving away from home.  (Maybe not the very first, but the first memorable one!)

 

On a trip to Ikea in around the year 2000, I discovered my love of rugs.  I snagged a really cool, funky patterned rug for just $19.99 during a sale.  It was a cheap rug, not the most cozy of the rugs I’ve bought over the years, but it served us well.  It gave that extra punch of vibrant colour to the room (though in those days, it wasn’t just a punch I was going for – there was plenty of vibrant colour to enjoy throughout our place!)  I kept that rug for a long time, and while I went ahead with the sale, I was very hesitant to let it go for $2 in a garage sale many years later.  It was her time, and I was OK with it, but it wasn’t easy!  I remember the woman who bought it tried to barter down, as if $2 wasn’t enough of a deal already, but I wouldn’t budge on that amount.

 

Don't believe me about my love of vibrant colours?  There I am with bright blue hair, in about 2001-2002.  Bright purple was my favourite, but unfortunately I couldn't find a picture of it.  Those were some fun hair days (thanks Amsterdam for inspiring me!)

  

 

Our first kitty, Tinker, enjoyed many hours of lounging on this bright funky rug, that took us into our second apartment together.

 

The next rug I bought felt like a major purchase at nearly $150.  A multi-coloured, brightly striped rug that fit our living room perfectly.  I loved that rug!  Even though it was ridiculously bright, it felt like such a grown-up purchase at the time.  I loved co-ordinating some of our furniture to match it, and having that vibrancy take over from the dull, cheap carpeting we had there.

  

Here's another random rug that I'd totally forgot about till I came across this picture!

 

Eventually that rug started to get quite worn, since it was in the area of the apartment most used.  One day I just got sick and tired of looking at it and we took it to a thrift shop and left it there for free.  I couldn’t even be bothered trying to sell it.  I was on the lookout for something fresh and new, but discovered that all the rugs I liked the most at Ikea (it was my go-to store for rugs for years) were too expensive for me to justify.  There was one that I was madly in love with (as madly in love as one can be, with a rug) that to this day I wish that I had purchased, but know I couldn’t afford during university at a whopping $350.  (I still wouldn’t pay that much for a rug, in all honesty).  It was a circular rug, completely dark blue, with just ONE little ‘smudge’ looking area in the middle in a much lighter blue.  So it basically looked as if something had been spilled on it, but it was done like that on purpose.  It was the simplest, but cutest funky rug I’ve ever seen.  To me, it was a piece of art.  But…moving on, as obviously that one was not meant to be (and even though I still love the idea of that rug in my mind, I don’t know that it would suit the look of our place today anyway).

 

I know we had one more of these, because one of them also had a purple dot on it.  I so loved these when they were fresh and new.

I couldn’t be rugless for any length of time, so I ended up purchasing 3 smaller funky patterned rugs to make them into a larger rug.  I enjoyed being able to switch the pieces around and give the room different looks, or angle them differently to break things up a bit.  Those rugs also served us well, BUT I have to say I did NOT enjoy how easily they moved around.  I was forever fixing them to stay together, which got old pretty quickly.  We had those rugs for a few years though, and I loved them.

  

Sadly I couldn't get this cute picture of Andrew in 2010 to rotate properly, but you can see the little square rug in by the couch.

We got a small square rug a few years ago for our last apartment.  Nothing overly funky, but somewhat fun.  It was such a small space that nothing else would have fit without completely taking over the room.  When we moved to our current place, we really NEEDED a proper area rug because it’s laminate flooring and needs the added warmth that a rug can offer.  We ended up getting a light coloured shag-type rug, which I love despite it’s somewhat lack on the side of funky.  I still enjoy a vibrant funky rug, but I like the versatility of the more grown-up rug we have now.  It’s modern, and simple, but lends itself nicely to being complemented by smaller bright pieces displayed throughout the room.

  

Taken a few weeks ago, our current set up.

 

Yes, you could say I have a bit of a rug fetish.  Come to think of it, aside from the dining room (which is technically attached to our living room), you will find a rug in every room of our house!  And that’s just the way I like it.

What do you feel your house isn’t a home without?

If only things could have been different...

I’d like to say I’ve been feeling pretty good emotionally lately.  I really, really wish I could say that.  I hesitate though, because would it be honest for me to say I’ve been doing well?  I don’t know…sometimes, in particular moments or chunks of time in a day, I feel pretty good.  I forget that I’m not 100%.  I smile and laugh often enough.  Andrew and I get up to our usual daily antics and adventures, and sometimes new ones, too.  But there’s still a heaviness that plagues me, and the past few days it has been creeping up on me again, especially later in the day.  I don’t know why, but dinner time-ish (and/or a bit before/bit after) often seems to be the worst for me.

Obviously the stress and pressure I feel to be pregnant sooner than later and worrying about the possibility that it might not happen the way I’m hoping is something that is getting to me.  I’m not ‘obsessing’ about getting pregnant the way I did last month – even though it’s way too early to be testing, I’d have already at the very least bought some tests for the earliest possible moment I could use it!  This time I’m hesitant to even allow myself to purchase any HPT’s till after I’m SURE I’m late, should I be late (although I don’t even know what that means anymore, given my screwed up cycle).  I want to be hopeful, yet I’m terrified of hoping.  I can’t even think about what I’ll be like if I’m NOT pregnant this time around, because I don’t want to go there AT ALL of I can help it.  I hate the idea that this could be prolonged several more months, so I am trying to take the approach that I’ll deal with that should it happen, but hopefully that doesn’t happen.  Despite making an effort to obsess less, I’m still obsessed – or maybe ‘worried’ is more the correct term.

The main thing that causes me to feel glum is still the loss of the baby.  Should I have to say ‘still’?  It has only been 4 months (and 4 days, to be precise).  That’s not a very long time when you think about it.  I’ve been told you can’t put a timeline on grief.  My doctor told me that my loss was very real, and I should expect it to affect me in a similar way as losing a parent.  That freaks me out, because I can’t imagine how I’d cope if either of my parents died.  They both seem so fragile to me sometimes (ok, a lot of the time) and I worry about what kind of mess I’ll be when one or both of them is gone.  I definitely can’t let my mind go there or I’ll go insane!  But suffice it to say, the doctor seems to be correct, because I’ve been hit pretty darn hard with grief for my dead baby.

I just can’t stop thinking about it.  How can I??  I still reach out for him or her in my mind, and it hits me all over again – the tragedy of it all.  The shock of it.  Sometimes…often…it’s as if it’s happening all over again, it’s so vivid in my mind.  I want to let go, insofar as I don’t want to feel the intensity of the pain anymore, but I can’t seem to do that.  I accept what happened to me…I guess.  I mean, I have to, right?  It happened, so I have to accept that.  But…I don’t understand it.  So maybe sometimes I find it difficult to accept it, given I don’t even understand why it happened.  I am constantly nagged by the questions surrounding it.  Why did it happen?  What caused it?  It wasn’t ‘just’ an early miscarriage (and I put that in quotes because a miscarriage at ANY time is tragic, so I don’t mean to be minimizing earlier miscarriages).  The baby HAD to be 11 weeks developed – I am telling you with as much certainty as I can have, there is no way that the baby was less along than 11 weeks.  That means it died very shortly before it came out of me.  That means something happened at the 11 week mark.  What was it??  The gynecologist I saw told me that miscarriages after 10 weeks that show a fetus are considered ‘suspicious.’  But without anyone else having seen the baby, it’s ultimately just my word that it was 11 weeks along…It’s impossible to ever have even an inkling of a clue as to why it happened.  But it’s kind of eating me up not knowing.  How can I carry this for the rest of my life?  I realize that there are much worse weights to bear for one’s whole life than what I’m going through, but for me this is very serious, and I can’t minimize the pain because ‘it could be worse.’  I cringe at the thought that this could be worse!  I know it could be, and yet I feel I’m suffering enough that I couldn’t handle anything worse.

I still sort of blame myself.  Even if it wasn’t something I did consciously, because obviously it couldn’t have been anything I did on purpose.  But how could I not have had anything to do with it?  What did I do wrong?  What was wrong with the baby?  How did it get to the 11 week mark and then not make it?  Why was this meant to happen to me?  WAS this mean to happen to me?  Or was it a mistake, this SHOULDN’T have happened to me, so it’s no wonder I’ve reacted so badly to it?!

I miss that baby more than words can say.  I should be…let’s see…31 weeks right now.  Wow.  About 2 months away from meeting our second baby, hearing their little cry, seeing their little personality beginning to develop.  Finding out if it was a boy or a girl.  Feeling their warm soft skin against mine.  I just feel sad for the image I’m left with instead, knowing it’s all I’ve got and all I ever will have of that baby.  It seems unreal to me, totally unreal.  How could that have happened to me?  What changed?  Why, why, WHY?  Forever with the why’s.

I don’t obsess over it the way I did earlier on, although it probably sounds like I do when I write posts like this.  I just find this to be the only source of release sometimes, and that’s why I go on about it here.  I still talk to James about it sometimes, but ultimately what’s left to say?  I go in circles, and I know it isn’t healthy.  I know there’s nothing that can change what happened.  So I try to just go on and get on with things and just ‘be’ and have some hope for the future.  It’s just so hard sometimes.  I miss the me I was before it happened, I wonder about the me I’d be if it hadn’t happened, and I’m a bit uneasy about the me I am currently.  It just kind of sucks, what can I say.

I do have a strong support network, and I know there are people I can turn to.  But sometimes I don’t want to talk about it, even though I’m thinking about it.  I just need to mourn, I guess, and this is the way I’m doing it.  I tend to pretend most of the time that it’s not plaguing me and that I’m fine and getting on with things.  But I’d be lying big time if I said it wasn’t there…in kind of a big way.  Always with me.  A little bit of emptiness in my heart.  My soul even.  I feel crushed.

I’m signed up for a course to help cope with depression.  I’m hoping it will offer some insight, and I might be able to focus better and see more clearly.  I don’t know.  I’m not THAT far gone, I cope fairly well.  I just…really wish things could have been different.

Here’s hoping for some positive news in a few weeks time!!  It would be such a relief to have some happy news to hold onto right now.

I'll never get over his cuteness

Andrew is SO delightful.  I know most mom’s say that about their own child (and ALL mom’s SHOULD!)  But SERIOUSLY, Andrew is SO CUTE in every way.  I have been with him almost every single day of his entire 3 years, 6 weeks and a few days since birth, and I can honestly say I could never tire of staring at his adorableness all day long.  He could be drawing or painting, sitting watching a show, playing a game, or spending time with someone else entirely, and I can delight in just watching his expressions and mannerisms – him being the himself that I love so much.

 

Right now his hair is a little on the wild side.  He’s refusing getting it cut.  I like that he enjoys his ‘spikes’ on top.  A little length means it’s fun to put gel in and see what happens.  He has taken lately to touching his hair periodically throughout the day, worrying that the gel has worn off and his spikes have ‘fallen out’!  ‘Don’t tamp them down, Mommy!’ he’ll say.  The other day he went so far as to pack the gel when we were going out ‘just in case’ because I told him he had to wear his hood since it was raining, and he thought right away about how his hood being up could flatten his hair.  He’s SO funny!

His little voice is so adorable that my heart melts a little when he’s talking.  It’s especially cute to receive a phone call from him.  When he was in Victoria on the weekend, I talked to him on the phone and he his voice was the cutest in the universe! 

I love the things he says, the words he chooses, and the fact that he’s using big words correctly.  He also knows to emphasize certain words or syllables of words to create a particular effect.  He has what I refer to as a ‘little kid accent’ – sometimes words come out sounding different than they will as he gets older.  He’ll leave our an ‘r’ or turn it into a ‘w’.  Yet at the same time, he says words so carefully and sounds like such a little old man most of the time.  It’s the cutest!

Andrew can have a bit of a temper at times (I have no idea where he gets that from…..hee hee) but the vast majority of the time he is SO good natured.  Just totally up for anything, easy-going, and fun-loving.  He’s not afraid to get in there and try things and learn and BE.  He can teach me and everyone else a thing or two, that’s for sure.  He’s so carefree and such a source of light.

Calling all Burnaby moms and tots!

I’ve been doing some research on things to do with Andrew during the week.  I really want us to get out of our usual routine a bit, and get out there exploring Burnaby more.  When he was more in the baby stages, we were pretty involved with a mom and baby group that we’d join for meet-ups each week.  It was a great way to meet people and get out doing something different.  Unfortunately everyone we met lives in the west end/Coal Harbour area of Vancouver, and we’ve since lost touch.  I really want to meet other moms-with-young-kids in our general area so we have some people to get together with regularly again.

It’s hard feeling so isolated at times.  I do have friends that I talk to, but we’re living in different areas and don’t have cars, so it can be tough figuring out a time to get together that works for everyone and isn’t complicated by ten thousand bus transfers (not to mention people's different schedules).  I’m finding it increasingly difficult to find new friends – it seems like people already have their group of friends and I don’t feel like I fit in.  Or I meet people and we get along fine but we don’t necessarily have all that much in common.  I really want Andrew to have a group of friends that he can play with on a regular basis.  He’s pretty good now with sharing and playing nicely with other kids, so I want to help him experience more of those opportunities.  I know it will be easier in the spring/summer when we’re getting out to the parks and there will be kids at the playgrounds again.  But even that poses difficulties.  In all honesty, and this is not at all meant in a racist way by any means, but generally when we’ve taken Andrew to the park, it’s rare that the other kids/parents speak English.  It’s how we find it around here, but it’s how we found it in Coal Harbour as well.  People are either speaking Asian languages, or European.  I can recall MANY a trip to the park that felt socially awkward because we were the only ones speaking English, and no one seemed to want to communicate with us – that or they couldn’t.  I don’t have a problem with people speaking their native languages, but at times it does bother me a bit because I feel like it prevents us from the possibility of getting to know each other.  Especially when we live in the same neighbourhood and go to the same parks, it would be so nice if we could have conversations together, rather than feeling as isolated at the park as we do at home.

I hope that made sense, it wasn’t meant to be offensive, as if people shouldn’t be able to speak whatever language they want to.  I just…really want to meet some new friends that have a similar lifestyle and show interest in getting to know us, as we would with them.  It seems like such a simple thing, but even with the millions of people living around us, it can be so hard to find.

It’s also hard given my personality type.  I’m not very outgoing, I’m quiet, I don’t have the gift of the gab.  Obviously once I get to know someone and I’m comfortable with them, I relax more, but the process of it all can seem like too much sometimes.  It’s so hard to meet people!  I’ve always been somewhat anti-social, and I don’t feel the need for a hundred friends or anything, just a couple of people would be awesome!  We do have some friends we get together with sometimes, and one couple did just have a baby recently, so we’ll have more in common with them as time goes by for sure.  But my goal is to meet people who have children in Andrew’s age group, so he’ll have some playmates.  That’s my current new mission – even if it takes me completely out of my comfort zone – I’m going to do it!

I wish it was ‘easier’ to find places to take a 3 year old for fun activities.  The indoor play areas in our area…aren’t in our area at all.  It would take about an hour at least to bus to any of the cool play areas I’ve researched.  Or community centers – I don’t see anything in a ‘drop-in’ type of category for young kids.  Downtown there seemed to be a lot more options that way.  Here I feel like it’s daycare/preschool or nothing.  Maybe I should try to form my own group and see what happens…