Aquarium in Feb.

Background: Somewhere between losing Judah and starting the counseling program, David and I went to the aquarium. We'd planned to go anyway before long, but my counselor had us promise to do it the coming weekend. I was suicidal at this point, and we were grasping for other things to keep my head occupied. While going to an aquarium would usually have me STOKED, under the circumstances it was just kinda amusing. But shoot, that's improvement. I was still so upset at this point I was dry heaving every day.

Ok, so, aquarium! Not many pictures, but here's what we've got.

The top pic is the only thing David wanted to take a picture of. This was one of the touch screens in front of a fish tank. It says, "9002: Unable to communicate with touch controller. Check COM port settings and cabling."

The bottom 2 are some super-fancy sea horses. I couldn't get a good shot. They live in the dark, so I couldn't use the flash. Besides, they're in water, moving, and behind glass. These and a seal were the only things I stood up to see. Mom, this is what I was doing when you called and I ignored you. I wanted to sit asap.

Belle

I held Belle yesterday while he fell asleep. David sat by me wiping my eyes since I had both hands on Belle. We totally didn't see this coming.

Belle (my white parakeet, who I had in Searcy) had a foot problem since early December. Early December is also when I got "a foot problem." We had no way of getting him care while we struggled so hard to get me care. We even had a vet appt for him the Saturday between finding out Judah had died and me actually going into labor. Obviously, we had to cancel it.

So we finally were able yesterday to take Belle to a vet - a special 24-hour hospital for exotic critters. He'd had a growing foot problem for nearly 4 months. I'd even tried to give him some of my own antibiotics when we couldn't get him vet help.

Before doing anything else, I asked the vet to give him pain relievers. They gave him a shot of some form of morphine. We continued from there with blood work.

I don't precisely understand. But something that Belle's kidneys were supposed to filter out and send out through his urine was thick in his blood - over 3 times what it should've been. He had what was kidney failure or very near it. The masses growing on his toes and legs was built-up waste.

He had a chance of living if we put him in the hospital for atleast several days for fluids, meds, and morphine. (Didn't know if it'd work and we've been hoping to adopt for a long time - it was a huge amount of money we could put toward adopting.) Or we could take him home to die with pain meds that wouldn't even have taken the edge off for him. (I nearly tried to kill myself because of a desperation for pain relief. I have uncommon understanding of that.)

So I chose to put him down. I couldn't choose my bird over having a baby. And I couldn't make him live in pain. I know pain.

So he was given a sedative, and I held him while he lazily bit at me then fell asleep. I had a while to talk to him and cry my eyes out. Why does all my little stuff keep dying? I kissed his teeny soft head and brushed my cheek on his back. I also discovered that he's been hiding some pale blue feathers he never told me about.

Once he was asleep, I handed him to the vet for more pain-killers before he was actually put down. I looked at the clock and knew he'd be gone by 3:15.

My adult Holly made a good decision. I chose getting a baby over keeping a bird. And I chose to put a stop to someone's pain.

My child Holly though is horrified. I feel like I killed my birdie 'cause I didn't run back there to rescue him. And I keep bursting into tears 'cause I want my birdie back. Belle was my friend for a long time and I miss him.
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And no, we have not committed to adopting. We are doing a ton of research right now. So nobody go asking us questions about what we're going to do.

Day Number 2

Today was Day Number 2 of being home alone. I've been sticking with my schedule from counseling. That tells me what topic to work on when, so I don't really get a chance to think - which would likely lead to an anxiety attack or worse. David calls every hour to make sure I'm still ok - no one roll your eyes, there've been days when he couldn't go to work at all. He doesn't "allow" me to stand much while he's gone either for fear I'll over-do it, make my feet hurt, and proceed to panic.

Anyway, the counseling schedule keeps me busy until 5:30 and then there's only 2 hours left to stay busy until David gets home.

At the moment, those 2 hours are spent catching up on my email and forums. I'm also nearly done getting something like birth announcements ready to send out. The ones going to family members have already been sent.

I don't know what I'll do with those 2 hours once all my sit-down work is done. We've already gotten pretty creative with how to make standing work sitting work. Won't be a prob for another week though.
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I'm at a complete loss as to how to feel about pregnant women, and women with little ones (Eden would be about 2 weeks old now). I'm jealous, happy for them, scared for them, and feeling passed-over/left-out. The doc Monday mentioned that babies die for a reason - that they're sick and their deaths are "good." Yes. He used the word "good." Bet you can guess how I feel about that.

One thing about it, I don't have any of the negative feelings toward women that have lost a child too. I figure they EARNED the kids they have. Rejoicing comes easy there.

A Month Later

I did that all-day counseling program I mentioned a month ago. Turned out to be for 3 weeks - 15 full days of therapy. Whew! Awesome. Went in suicidal and left hopeful and calm(er).

The last Lyme relapse was more "normal" as oppossed to terrifyingly painful. Cremation is over with and the urn is in our bedroom. I have the second strand on that bracelet now, as well as little charms that have footprints on them and the word "mom." My daily pain level ranges from moderate to simply uncomfortable, where it had been severe last time I wrote.

Anyway, this is just a quick note to say "I'm back." It's undoubtedly clear to you that the last months have been chaotic and a nightmare. In my real life, the one where I can think of things that are pleasant, I'm a regular poster - really. I sincerely hope that I can now start that again - and all signs point to promising.