We Have Lived July 30, 2014

It actually sounds a bit crazy to think about these days. Yet it doesn’t change the truth. The majority of the first several weeks of dear baby Carter’s life, it was ridiculously cold around here. I know such things are a matter of perspective, but today I reflected back 190 days ago and alas, it was two degrees that day.

The thing is, after that frigid a winter (with abnormally regular temperatures in the negative 5 to 10 degree range) people around here now have something new to complain about. A cold summer. So far, we’ve only had a few uncomfortably hot days and my all intent and purpose summer as we know it is indeed drawing to a close already. It seems too soon. It seems like we deserve more after the absolute north pole-esque winter we had.

Instead we have this, a fairly mild summer. And while it’s easy to be pretty upset about that, I can’t help but think back to 190 days ago when it was freezing cold and baby Carter cried. All. The. Time. It ironically even came to mind today what those days were like, three weeks after Carter was born. When no one slept more than an hour at a time. Stress and all other emotions were running at full steam ahead. And neither of my people would have changed a single thing about it.

Joy. It doesn’t sound like it to most people, but that is what those first few weeks were for my forever people. It’s just taken us all a bit to realize it since we were in such an over-tired, exhausted haze of sleep depravity at the time. Now that Carter has been sleeping through the night for some time, I am reminded of those harder (yet somehow joyful) times all those months ago. He hasn’t been sleeping quite as well, do doubt do to something mom keeps calling teething. So I stand by and hope (for everyone’s sake) that sleep will still resume to its previously happy normalcy.

In the meantime, I know how far things have come since all of those months ago. January 21, 2014 it was literally two degrees outside. Mom would never have thought to let me outside to do anything other than relieve myself and come back in (for fear I may have formed into a doggie icicle of some sort I suppose). And I realized today that my dream that day, that frigidly freezing day, has indeed come to fruition on multiple occasions. I am so blessed to say I had hoped and prayed all of those months ago that dear baby Carter and I would have a chance to play together in the grass.

We have, and in doing so, I would say we have lived.

Advertisement

If You Believe May 12, 2014

I have a confession to make. I wasn’t always a believer in heaven. That’s right. Your dearly beloved resident doggie optimist once did not believe in the great and powerful beauty that awaits me after the Rainbow Bridge. I can’t say why I used to feel that way. Until today.

Sometimes it’s all too easy to question something until you come face to face with it. Then there is no question. For me, it happened for the first time when I finally found my forever home. I knew in my heart somehow that everything was going to be all right. Not just today, but for forever. It happened again today when my prayers were answered.

My mom’s dear friend Mel had her little person today. Her beloved Millie dog will now have a little person to love and snuggle and (more often than anyone would like to admit) run away from when she realizes she can do nothing to stop the crying. It is a miracle in itself, this thing people do bringing little people into the world. But for me it was more than that.

Because, if you recall, I asked for your help a few days ago. I asked for your prayers. And today they were answered. Dear baby Noah entered the world this afternoon weighing 8 pounds, 4 ounces and measuring 20.5 inches long. He is beautiful. He is another reminder of that thing called heaven. Someone up there hears our prayers, whether or not we even know we’re praying. Faith. From the ground up, it was realized today in another beautiful addition to the world.

Say A Little Prayer For You May 9, 2014

I know people say patience is a virtue. But here’s the thing. I’ve said it before, and nothing has changed. Us canines don’t care very much for being patient. A year in our lives is equivalent to seven people years, after all.

So it makes sense that when my forever mom was suffering in those last few weeks and days before my little person arrived, I lost patience. I hated to see her suffer, even though I know now it was worth it. (At least that’s what she tells me). And now it is happening again.

My mom’s dear friend Mel is 39 weeks pregnant tomorrow. And she is suffering even more than mom did. The pregnancy has been very challenging to her athletic frame, though you wouldn’t hear it from her. She has been a rock. This baby is going to be the biggest blessing she has ever wrapped her heart around.

But I’ve seen her and I know things are not easy. I’ve snuggled and found every opportunity to show her my love when she has been here. I know she was here to visit baby Carter (not me), but that’s no matter. Mom loves her, so I love her. And (I think) she loves me.

It’s all kind of ironic because the night mom went into labor, it was Mel who provided me with my blog topic. She had lost several puppy friends recently, and I felt compelled to honor them and their families. Two hours later, my people left for the hospital and returned a couple of days later with my beloved Carter.

So tonight I do what I can. I take it beyond the snuggles, cuddles and other love fest signals I offer her when she’s here in my forever home. Tonight I say a little prayer for my pal. And her little person, who I pray will arrive soon.

Because as American novelist Nora Ephron so poetically put it, “if pregnancy was a book, they would cut the last two chapters.”

You Just Wait March 12, 2014

Apparently it’s one of those things parents say to each other. Like the never ending piece of advice stuck on repeat in the CD player. And while I’m usually all for taking in and putting to practice any piece of advice or wisdom, this has (of late) been one of my least favorite tracks. You just wait.

When my forever mom was up all night because baby Carter was beat boxing on her ribs, people told her. You just wait. After he was born and he was sleeping in teeny tiny increments of time, people told her. You just wait. Even now, when he’s starting to interact with the world in both smiles and experimental cries, people tell her. You just wait.

And I will tell you. Each and every time someone says this, I watch as she visibly tenses up and I know better than anyone else what she’s thinking. YOU just wait. Because here’s the thing about unsolicited advice and wisdom. It’s great when it means something positive. And it’s even all right when it means something negative, as long as it’s delivered in the right way. But even when you’re a boy dog who will never in a million years understand the mystery of birth, I can hear it.

There is something grating about hearing someone imply things will get worse before they will get better. It doesn’t matter if its family life, work life, personal life, or whatever sort of life path you’re on – it just plain sucks to hear even the slightest implication of things being worse on the horizon.

That is, until you live it. I know it grated on my mom’s nerves when people told her to “just wait” for what sleep would be like after the baby was born. I know it the same as I know things will only be getting more complicated from here as Carter figures out his emotions. Happy and sad. Love and hate. Chaos and peace. You just wait.

It’s a track that has been stuck on repeat far too long around here. And yet I know its one we need to hear. Not necessarily as its intended from its various unsolicited advisors. Because tone has no place in true wisdom. Instead I would rather cherish the good things that come to those who “just wait.” I cherish the first full night’s sleep my people have had in a while. And these first smiles that are happening on purpose. And that look of recognition when mom and dad talk and he seems calmed by their voices.

As one who has just waited, I can definitely confirm a certain and undeniable truth. It’s always worth the wait.

My Newborn Baby Survival Kit March 1, 2014

I told you so. I don’t often say such things, but in this case I need to take credit where credit is due. I said it six months ago and I will say it again. Too much is too much when it comes to the ridiculously copious amounts of baby things people can buy these days.

In my opinion it’s an awful tirade on the hormonal instability of first-time expectant mothers who are by nature on a quest to nest. Sure, the purchase of baby things had a direct inverse relationship to the amount of doggie things coming through the door of my forever home. But that didn’t bother me like this does.

Ultimately, it’s just stuff. That’s what dad said tonight as we got Carter ready for bedtime. If we’d only known what we really needed, he said. That is exactly true. But as life would have it, you often don’t know these things until you’re living through them. And while experience has demonstrated the importance of baby accoutrement like the Boppy pillow, sleep sacks, and sleepers that zip (rather than snap), I have developed my own list of necessities for surviving those crucial first weeks as a new parent.

1. Sleep. Get it when you can. It doesn’t matter if its five minutes or five hours. Every little bit counts. (Almost) everything else stems from this.

2. Patience. It’s happened to mom. It’s happened to dad. Sometimes there just isn’t enough patience to go around. But any time you can catch yourself and remember to be patient is better than a time you didn’t.

3. Love. I’m not talking puppy love. I’m talking the unconditional love us canines have so graciously mastered. It’s not always easy to speak and act in love when you’re overtired and hungry and can’t remember the last time you showered, but it is a worthwhile investment that pays priceless dividends.

4. Family. Whether they are blood relatives or family friends, it really does take a village. Also, it helps if this village brings food whenever possible. That’s the last thing on the mind of an overtired set of parents even though it’s entirely vital.

5. Joy. It’s the only defense against the stress.

Things you won’t find on this list? An extra dozen pacifiers. Or three different kinds of receiving blankets. Or even that silly Bumbo chair. And that’s just during pregnancy. Needs can blur with wants in any scenario life hands us. But regardless of where you are in your walk of life, the lesson remains the same. Needs and wants can get a little fuzzy sometimes, but the best things are those money can’t buy.

Remembering The Before February 28, 2014

It seems like a given. Like one of those things that is simply understood. No words required. But sometimes I don’t think that’s enough. For the last year or so, our threesome (dad, mom and I) has been evolving to include baby Carter. First while mom was pregnant, and especially now that he’s here, he comes first.

I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. Nor do I feel jealous of the attention. But I have noticed something – a change in how mom and dad interact with and treat each other. They’ve gone from simply being husband and wife to being parents. And let’s face it – that involves a whole other job description.

Not to mention how easy it is to get lost in the eat, wake, sleep cycle of a newborn. It’s easy to forget the before. The before when it was just mom and dad and their love for each other (and me, of course). The before when all they had was each other, in sickness and in health, ’til death does them part. All that has changed (for the better now), but that doesn’t negate what they had before.

So I was overjoyed tonight when they went on a date – their first since Carter was born almost two months ago. They left Carter and I in the kind and loving hands of a friend to go to their favorite restaurant for dinner. It was hardly an extravagance, but it didn’t need to be. It reminded them of the before and how much that still means in the now.

It all got me to thinking of how important it is to not get too caught up in routines and life’s diaper changes. How much it means to remember the loved ones who make it all possible. Moreover, the special chosen circles of trust that make life a better place to live. Because it seems like a given. And when there is so much going on around us, it might be simply understood. No words required. But that doesn’t mean actions aren’t necessary every now and then to show we still care. And all things that seem like a given began as just that – a gift.

Another Piece of Pie February 27, 2014

I know it’s going to sound silly. Especially since I can’t actually have any of it. It’s apparently one of those “not for doggies” foods. And yet I can put my selfish longing for people food aside to enjoy the simplicity of joy. From the ground up, it took the form of pie tonight.

It took me by surprise too, since I heard somewhere that cravings like this were supposed to happen while mom was pregnant. Not now, when baby Carter is about to turn two people months old. She actually had very few cravings that I can recall while pregnant, now that I think about it. So today when she randomly proclaimed to the room (which included myself, Carter and dad) that she could really go for a good piece of pie, I didn’t really think anything of it.

That is, until dad jumped on the bandwagon. I could have pie, he said. And so the joy train left the station. Literally. All four of us piled into the car and set out on an adventure to find the best pie in town. They eventually settled on a chocolate peanut butter pie that smelled so deliciously tempting it took every bone in my little doggie body to hold me back from trying to break into the box on the way home.

But it wasn’t long after we got back home that I realized I didn’t need a slice of pie to find my daily dose of joy today. I had it right there, in the completely random and spontaneous pie adventure that brought smiles to my people. Their smiles warmed my heart tonight, on yet another frigid negative degree evening, like my very own slice of pie.

That’s when I realized how powerful such a thing can be. A random piece of indulgence every now and then really does wonders. And even though I couldn’t sample the pie itself doesn’t mean I didn’t experience the joy firsthand. The adventure. The randomness. The love.

From the ground up, I think I’m going to make a point of finding another piece of pie in my day tomorrow. And maybe the day after tomorrow. Because when something that simple can bring joy into the hearts of those I love, it doesn’t matter that I can’t taste it. Instead I feel it. Sometimes that’s better anyway.

In Spite Of It All February 13, 2014

It’s kind of a mystery to me. And I think dad feels the same way. Lately this thing has been happening that doesn’t really make sense. At least not when you hear of this thing called post partum depression. It’s apparently fairly common for women after they have babies to feel a little blue. For some, it’s manageable and goes away on its own. Others need help working through it.

My mom has needed no such managing or work. She has looked at baby Carter through the eyes of joy and love from day one. This, in spite of her incessant lack of sleep. This, regardless of spit up and stinky foofters and messy diapers and occasional bits of screaming for no good reason. This, even after what I witnessed the other day.

There she was, holding Carter in the air above her, telling him how much she loves him when bam. Spit up. In her face. And it wasn’t a little bit. We’re talking little bits of partially digested milk clumping in her eyelashes. But still she didn’t crack.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy as she’s been the last six weeks that she’s been home with Carter. So today I found myself wishing. Dreaming. It’s been so nice having her home all this time instead of at that place called work. She’s been a little preoccupied with Carter (obviously), but just having them both here with me during the days has been such a joy. Add to that how happy I’ve seen her and I’ve been one pretty blissful doggie.

I wish it could stay this way forever. I wish she didn’t have to go back to that place called work. I wish it could just be us three amigos against the world every day. We could go on adventures and explore new places together and I could show Carter my favorite hiding places at the dog park. Life could be grand.

Except for one thing. Mom is a pretty smart lady. I know she has a lot of schooling under her belt. And I know how happy she is when she accomplishes something or makes a difference at that place called work. I’m being selfish, I realized, and selfishness doesn’t get you anywhere.

It’s all a big mystery to me right now. A big mystery I can’t control. All caused by this one little person. It’s a wonder how something so little is actually so big.

Lighting the Way January 12, 2014

It’s official. I think my people are losing their minds. Maybe it’s because of the lack of sleep. I can’t be sure. All I know is there is a new nighttime routine in the Schmidt household and I’m not sure what to make of it.

It actually starts during the day, with all kinds of loud noises, open windows and bright lights. Then at 8:30 sharp, they shut off all the lights and put baby Carter in a dark room away from any televisions or other noises. They speak to each other (and me) in hushed tones and I get scolded even more than usual for barking at animals on the television (which admittedly is one of my more unusual quirks).

Apparently it’s to do with the baby’s days and nights being flip flopped. Daytime to us is nighttime to him, so to attempt to get him on track with what my people refer to as a “normal” schedule. Tonight was the second swing at this new way of things, and I’m not sure how it will go.

Because the baby will probably do his own thing anyway. So to me it feels a bit like flipping a coin. And I found that frustrating at first because there’s really nothing I can do to help. Except there is. I don’t think my people are losing their minds. But I do think they need me now more than ever to remind them to seek out joy. From the ground up, it’s always there even when we lose our way.

A Little Dream January 10, 2014

It finally happened. I’ve been thinking about it for months. But I didn’t want to push my luck and try it too soon. So I waited. Perhaps not as patiently as my forever mom and dad would have liked. But I waited. After almost ten months of waiting, that’s saying something.

Well today I got my chance. And let me tell you something. It was worth the wait. Today I got to cuddle with my new little person. It was just as beautiful as I imagined it would be. He was warm. And I could hear his little heart beating. Peace. From the ground up, that’s what was contagious in the Schmidt house today.

So there we were, snuggling ourselves into the nap world, when things took a turn for the unexpected. For this I was not prepared. It was fleeting. If I hadn’t been peaking at Carter out of the corner of my eye at that exact moment I would have certainly missed it. But I didn’t.

The smile. I can’t explain the joy I felt in the moment I saw that peaceful little smile. I knew then that he was dreaming and selfishly hoped that just maybe he was dreaming about me. Because when I closed my eyes again, I dreamed of him. I saw us together playing catch in a new fenced-in backyard I didn’t recognize. He was laughing, and I was wagging and all was well with the world.

I dreamed this little dream as I napped with baby Carter this afternoon. And it made me realize maybe us canines are more capable of being patient than I thought. “Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet,” as 18th century Genevan philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau suggested.

I waited almost ten months for the cuddling I enjoyed today. All that waiting fulfilled in a single sweet moment. It was worth the wait.