This week in grief

• Dh & I spent a few hours at the local mall one afternoon during our recent staycation.  We had split up for awhile, and as I was making the rounds, I found him sitting on a bench, nursing a coffee, right outside a women's wear store... called (wait for it...) Katie. I knew EXACTLY why he chose to sit there. I wanted to laugh & cry & hug him all at once. It was the cutest thing. It also completely broke my heart. :(
• This past week on "Dallas" (you knew it was coming, right?? lol) -- Pamela Rebecca Barnes (niece of the original Pamela Barnes Ewing, as played by Victoria Principal) was horrified to realize that her own father, Cliff, was responsible for the oil rig explosion that ultimately killed her unborn twin babies. What horrified ME (and grieving mothers everywhere, I am sure) was hearing her father tell her that her loss "was probably for the best," since the babies would have tied her to the hated Ewing family forever. You and I probably don't have parents capable of ordering a bomb to be detonated when they knew their only, PREGNANT daughter was onsite and at risk (and thank goodness for that...!)(that's the soaps for you...!) -- but how many of us have had to deal with similar painful comments??  (Season finale coming up, this Monday night...!)
• Did anyone see the parents of the children who were killed in Newtown, Connecticut, on 60 Minutes last Sunday night?  Absolutely heartwrenching. :(  (And horrifying, especially watching them being totally ignored by certain members of Congress. :p  )  And although I have never experienced such a tragedy (& hope I never will), there was so much there in their grief and love for their children that I could relate to as a bereaved parent (albeit bereaved in a different way). I was in tears by the end. The segment is available in two parts online, here and here. 
• On a related note, Timothy Egan's Friday column in the New York Times -- titled The Power of Loss -- bookended some pointed observations about the gun control debate in the U.S. with some powerful references to the Newtown parents that resonated with me (emphasis mine):

• Opening paragraph:  "Their grief is so immense, their sadness so deep, that when the parents of children slaughtered in Newtown, Conn., tried this week to make a political point, most people could not see beyond the swollen red eyes. It was all hugs and pats and God forbid, we can only imagine if that had happened to us."

  And closing: "Bill Sherlach lost his wife, Mary, a psychologist, to Adam Lanza’s Bushmaster AR-15. He was in Washington this week, his broken heart on reluctant display. “We’re just private citizens,” he said, “who are now part of a club we never wanted to be in.” "

Making the right decision, or making the decision right?

Maybe Baby, Maybe Not (who is blogging through her decision on whether to have children) had a really interesting post this week, musing on a quote from (of all people) TV's Dr. Phil (McGraw):  

"Sometimes you make the right decision, and sometimes you have to make the decision right." 

(Sounds like Dr. Phil, doesn't it?)

I know that, within the childless/childfree/barren/notmom/nomo/non-parenting/choose-your-favourite-label segment of the ALI community, many of us struggle mightily over the question of whether our situation was an actual, active decision or choice. (As I often say sarcastically when discussing this subject, "Some choice...") Even if we can agree (however reluctantly) that it was a "choice" (of sorts), if only by default -- it certainly wasn't the first one, the one we really wanted.  It's not a choice that most of us embrace, at least at first. It was just the best one we could make in a bad situation with the resources (financial, mental, physical, spiritual) we could muster at that point in time.

It may not FEEL like we made a decision, let alone the right one (at first, anyway).  But, as MBMN points out, "the onus is on you to make it the right one."  ("Make it right" -- hmmmm, how did we get from Dr. Phil to Mike Holmes??)(But -- I digress...!)

Whether we actively chose this path, or felt like we had much of a choice in taking it -- or even if it was clearly the WRONG decision, in hindsight -- the point is, here we are. This is your life -- "your one wild and precious life," as a famous Mary Oliver quote puts it. What do you plan to do with it?

The 700 Club

No, not THAT 700 Club. ; )

This is my 700th published post. : )  700 posts over 5.5 years. Not too bad!

Just had to make note of that. : )

Fur kids

Me (left) & my sister, with our one & only puppy, Honey.
One of just two photos we have of her.

I've been pondering a post about pets for awhile now, and Mel's posts (here & here)  about the passing of her family's pet hamster, Cozy Jackson, prompted me to pull up a pet-related post I started awhile back.

Among the many myths about those of us living without children:  if we don't have kids, we must have pets. 

Some of us do, of course. I have many childless friends & relatives who may or may not have wanted children, but dote on their "furkids."

I am not one of them.

It's not that I don't like animals (reptiles of almost any sort being the one big exception -- although my sister & I did briefly have a pair of turtles when we were pre-teens). If I come to your house, I will happily sit and stroke your dog or cat. I have fond memories of visiting the chirping little yellow chicks at my grandparents' farm.  I used to love going with my (other) grandfather to the 4-H Club barns at the county fair to see the animals, or to go for long drives in the country with him after supper, hoping to spot some deer (followed by a trip to the dairy bar for ice cream). He and my grandmother loved birds, and had a bird feeder outside the dining room window.  I am thrilled everytime I see a rabbit hopping through my backyard. (Perhaps less so when it's a pesky squirrel or raccoon. Or skunk.)

But aside from the turtles, the only pet I have ever had was a dog -- and reading Mel's post about Cozy Jackson made me realize that my very first experience with loss was the loss of a pet. (I'm sure I'm not alone in this.)

I was a pre-schooler, probably about 4 years old, living in a small town in Saskatchewan, when we got our puppy. I think it was my mother's idea -- although I find that kind of hard to believe because, for the rest of my growing up years, she was never keen on having pets around the house. (She did have a couple of dogs when she was growing up -- although I find THAT hard to believe, because my grandmother wasn't very keen on pets either -- she absolutely loathed cats.) (The turtles were a gift from a dog-loving neighbour who insisted that my sister & I needed a pet. I think my mother could have killed her, and was secretly relieved when both turtles finally died.) 

I have memories of being taken down into a dark basement to see a new litter of puppies (no particular breed), and delighting in holding them (and, of course, wanting to take them all home). The puppy we picked -- which we named Honey -- was, my mother says, probably too little to be taken from her mother . She whined all through the night, for the first while we had her. I remember my bleary eyed father getting up in the middle of the night to check on her. We put an alarm clock (the old-fashioned kind that ticked) into her basket with her, and gave her an old sock to chew on. Cleaning out mom's basement a few years ago, I found pieces of an old child's jigsaw puzzle with some of the edges chewed away -- by Honey. 

 I don't know how long we had Honey. It wasn't very long -- months? Maybe a year, tops. I remember her cooped up in a rudimentary crate that my father built, which sat on the floor of the car at my sister's & my feet during the long drive to my grandparents' farm. We left her there as we continued our trip across the border to visit our other grandparents. And then we left her there for good when we went home again. I'm not sure why -- I remember my mother once saying "she was getting so big."  At any rate, my grandparents loved her.

And then one day we got a call or letter telling us that Honey had died. She was run over by a car on the road near the farm.

I remember crying in my mother's arms, inconsolable. I remember my mother telling me that Honey was in Heaven now, and what a wonderful place Heaven was, and that, if I was good, I might see her again someday. I remember asking if she would have lots of bones to chew on in Heaven, and being comforted by that thought.

We've enjoyed (even doted) on various neighbours' dogs over the years -- but neither my sister nor I have ever had another dog.  We -- and my sister in particular (always more keen on dogs & horses than I was) -- used to sometimes bug my parents about getting another one, but my mother said she was done with pets (& I can't blame her, since most of the work fell on her, as it usually does). And since being married, I've just never felt a strong urge to have a pet.

For one thing, our first apartment strictly prohibited pets at first (as well as children -- although both restrictions were eventually lifted while we lived there).  Dh did not grow up with pets at all. Many of his aunts & cousins consider pets unclean and are almost phobic about them. He doesn't mind smaller dogs, but if we are out walking & we see someone walking a big dog, heading our way, he will drag me across the street to get away from them.

I have to admit I'm not particularly fond of the big ones either. There is a vicious Rottweiler that lives across the back fence. Dh sometimes leaves that part of the back yard unmowed, because the dog will put his paws up on the fence and bark at him like crazy as he mows the lawn. We are actually quite surrounded by dogs here, and once one gets barking, it seems like the entire neighbourhood joins in the chorus -- usually about 10 p.m., just as we're trying to go to sleep. :p 

From a practical perspective, pets are a big responsibility -- and unlike children, they don't eventually grow up and learn how to do things for themselves. More importantly, working and commuting means we are away from home for almost half the day -- 11 hours, minimum, when you factor in commuting time. It would not be fair (or probably wise for the furniture...) to leave a pet by itself for that length of time (and doggy daycare is expensive). Most of my coworkers who have pets live much closer to work than I do, and/or have spouses who work from home or are retired and can look out for the animals. We're generally exhausted when we get home at night, and pets need to be walked and exercised regularly.  Having pets also means you can't just easily pick up & go somewhere. We travel to see my parents at least twice a year for a week or two at a time, and would have to bring the pet along with us (and some flights are pet-restricted), or board them at a kennel or with friends or relatives.

And, as it turns out, I am mildly allergic to pet hair.  I've never noticed a problem, being at other people's houses, but living with one might be another story. BIL is allergic to cats and can't be around one very long without his eyes getting red, puffy and itchy. 

Or maybe that early childhood loss has subconsciously made me shy away from further heartbreak? 

Whatever. I just wanted to make the point that "childless" doesn't automatically equal "pet owner."  People will sometimes ask me if I have kids, & when the answer is no, the next question is often, "Do you have any pets?"  Ummm, no to that, too. Sorry to disappoint you -- twice. :p  I AM a nice person... really...!

There are plenty of ways we can give and receive love in this world -- pets and offspring are just two of them. To each their own!

Giving up vs letting go

I am not sure who Danielle Koepke is, but this quote was part of a longer post that someone shared in my Facebook newfeed today, and I thought it was a perfect explanation of my situation (& possibly yours as well): 

There is a big difference between giving up and letting go. Giving up means selling yourself short. It means allowing fear and struggle to limit your opportunities and keep you stuck. Letting go means freeing yourself from something that is no longer serving you. It means removing toxic people and belief systems from your life so that you can make room for relationships and ideas that are conducive to your wellbeing and happiness. Giving up reduces your life. Letting go expands it. Giving up is imprisoning. Letting go is liberation. Giving up is self-defeat. Letting go is self-care. So the next time you make the decision to release something or someone that is stifling your happiness and growth, and a person has the audacity to accuse you of giving up or being weak, remind yourself of the difference. Remind yourself that you don’t need anyone’s permission or approval to live your life in the way that feels right. No one has the authority to tell you who to be or how to live. No one gets to decide what your life should look like or who should be a part of it. No one, but you. ~ Danielle Koepke

Staycation, all I ever needed... ; )

• Dh & I are on staycation this week. During our schools' recent spring break, he was doing the work of three people, covering for co-workers who were off sunning themselves on some southern beach with their families -- and doing his own work generally is enough to leave him exhausted. "I NEED A VACATION," he told me. We both have seven weeks this year, including a couple of carryover weeks that we must use or lose by year end, so it's not like we don't have the time to take.
• When to take it, of course, is another matter, especially when you start factoring in other people's schedules & coverage at work. We started comparing vacation calendars, & figured out it was either this week... or June (!) -- he has co-workers taking time off later this month & into May, and one of my teammates is taking three weeks in late May/early June to return to her country of origin to see her family. So here we are...!
• We haven't been doing anything too exciting... but sometimes that's good too. : ) We've been out every day, going for brunch, shopping, checking out one of the new Target stores that just opened here in Canada. : ) I've been doing lots of reading -- a new book (review to come when I'm done), magazines and blogs (catching up!).  And, of course, NOT getting up at 5 a.m. every day. ; )  (Aside from Monday -- we had dentist appointments in the city for 8 a.m. & decided to keep them. We then rewarded ourselves by spending two hours at the city's flagship mega-bookstore, and then went for lunch before heading back home.) 
• I could get used to this. ; ) (Three more years... three more years...)
• Tuesday, we had lunch at at Tim Horton's at the local mall. We got there around 11:30, hoping to beat the noon hour crowd, but the place was still busy -- teeming with grey-haired senior citizens. "Take a good look around -- this is our future and these are our people," I teased dh. "Well, we won't be THAT old right away," dh said.
• April 1st was chilly, hovering around the zero (Celsius = 32F) mark, and there were flurries in the air. (The next day, we drove home from the mall through a mini-blizzard while the sun shone brightly through the clouds. Totally bizarre.)  I knew better than to call my sister to complain, though -- where she was, it was -18C -- the coldest April 1st they'd had in 16 years. No April Fool-ing. :p
• Monday night's episode of "Dallas" opened with separated couple Pamela & Christopher dealing with the loss of their twins in their own individual ways -- he by taking apart the cribs he had so carefully put together in an earlier episode (& eventually, smashing one in grief and frustration);  she by putting hers together (at first I thought she was taking it apart as well). She did pack up some stuff (blankets, stuffed animals) -- but later spent time sitting in the finished nursery with a shell-shocked expression on her face. John Ross came to visit and said he wasn't going to leave until she was feeling better. Pamela responded with words to the effect that "That won't be for a long time." "I'll give them credit for this," dh remarked.

(Mis)conceptions in the news

There was an article in my FB newsfeed this week: "Study reveals Canadians' most common fertility misconceptions." I knew that most people are woefully uninformed about fertility issues (and that I'm probably more informed than the general public), but the figures in a new poll from the University of British Columbia still surprised me:

More than 90 per cent of respondents in the National Fertility Awareness survey incorrectly believed or were uncertain whether in vitro fertilization could help a woman have a baby with her own eggs right until she hits menopause. In reality, less than two per cent of IVF procedures are successful for women in their mid-late 40s using their own eggs.

Another eye-opening statistic from the survey: how few people realized just how costly IVF can be. Many women believed it was under $5,000; in Canada, the costs generally range from $8,000 to $12,000 per cycle.

No wonder we get so little sympathy from the general public -- they honestly haven't got a clue about what we're up against. :p

The author of the study, Judith Daniluk, a counselling psychology professor at UBC, has launched a new website, My Fertility Choices, aimed at debunking myths and helping adults make educated choices.

“The concerning part is more people are ending up childless by default, because when they delay and they get to the point where they start to pursue treatment, treatment can’t compensate for age-related declines,” Daniluk said.  “We don’t want you to get blindsided.”

Did anything in the survey results surprise you? (I'm assuming the results would be relatively the same if it were done in the United States or elsewhere.)