Saying Good-Bye to Winnie

I've been documenting our family's journey on this blog for almost 10 years, and I've never had a post that is harder to write than this one.  I have to choose my words and thoughts carefully today, as I know that this entry will eventually be the framework through which we view one of the hardest weeks of our lives.  What do I want my children to remember?  What do I want to hold on to and carry with me from one of the most difficult times of my life?  I guess I'll start at the beginning:

The first week of November, I took Winnie in to the vet for her "well-check".  She's always been a medically complex dog, but we have been able to manage her chronic allergies, helped her through an ACL tear several years ago, and she had a medication regimen that was second nature to us.  We've had several scares with Winnie's health in the past, but each time, she seemed to bounce back.  When Winnie celebrated her 13th birthday this past August, I marveled, as I knew that this birthday was a gift.  I never pictured her turning 13, and even though her mobility declined over the past year and a half, we have been able to lovingly help her through the aging process, and she had a good quality of life.  Winnie received her rabies vaccine at her vet visit, and within 2 days, she had an upset tummy:

Poor, sweet girl made it through the month of November with an irritated digestive system.  We tried medicine after medicine.  We got up with her in the middle of the night when she needed to urgently go potty.  I spent the day before our Thanksgiving travels at the vet trying to figure out a plan to get her through the trip.  Traveling was Winnie's Achilles Heel, and the added stress of a car ride and a busy holiday environment was worrisome to me.  Luckily, Thanksgiving went fine even though Winnie was a bit subdued, and we were all especially thankful.  Then, the night that we got home, Winnie started vomiting:

December was filled with multiple vet visits, and Winnie was diagnosed with pancreatitis.  This was not her first bout of this illness, but this time, it was quite severe, and her body just didn't seem to be able to recover.  I rearranged my schedule so that Winnie wouldn't be left alone for long, and she received lots and lots of close monitoring, snuggles, and love over the few weeks leading up to Winter Break.  We coaxed her to eat, and it was a hard month:

 Winnie lost weight, didn't have an appetite, and once again, we were back at the vet (on the day that we were supposed to leave for Christmas vacation).  This time, we were referred to the emergency vet, and after hours of diagnostic testing, I asked him if we'd be able to make it through our week+ long trip with our beloved furry girl.  He said yes, prescribed us some fancy prescription dog food and new medications, and we were able take Winnie with us on our travels to Williamsburg and Pennsylvania for Christmas.   

Christmas was bittersweet.  We knew that it was Winnie's last time seeing her beloved extended family.  She received constant attention from the people that she loved, and all she wanted was to be close to her humans.  Literally, at all times there was a cousin, uncle, grandparent, etc. lying on the floor with her, petting her.  Even Winnie's doggie cousins surrounded her with love:  

We got home from Christmas, and once again, the first night that we were home, things changed.  Winnie had an accident in the bed, and from that point on, could not control her bladder.  We ended up getting her pink "doggie diapers" and although I have pictures of this, I am not going to post them, because that's not how I want to remember my sweet girl.  We realized that she was in acute kidney failure, and we woke up in the middle of the night every 2-3 hours to let her out, clean her up, and comfort her.  The level of care was unsustainable, and Winnie also started requiring assistance to get up.  We carried her down the front steps into our yard each time we let her out, and she rejected all of her prescription dog food.  I started making her homemade food (ground turkey, rice, and veggies) and was able to convince her to eat a little of this at a time.  We had a vet appointment scheduled on Leah's birthday, but when school was cancelled that day due to cold temps, I rescheduled for the following Monday.  Now I realize that was a gift, as that vet visit ended up being very sad, and otherwise, it would have tainted Leah's special day.  

We'd been saying a series of small good-byes to Winnie over the course of the past few weeks, and somehow, she seemed to know.  She got so much joy out of just sitting and looking out the window:

After months of not being able to climb, she eased herself up onto the couch in our playroom.  This red couch was the one that we got when she was a puppy.  It was in our living room in Roanoke, and each evening when we came home from work, we'd see a little face peering over the back of the couch, looking out the window at us.  We've always thought of this as "Winnie's couch", and this image brings me to tears: 

Roanoke, 2004.  Winnie's first home.

Last Monday, Luke and I took Winnie to the vet.  Luckily, a friend offered to keep Leah, which was another blessing.   I cried the entire time, because I knew that it was going to be a tough appointment.  The vet agreed that there was nothing left to do.  Winnie's body was shutting down.  She was dying.  Our dear vet asked if we'd be willing to wait until Thursday to say good-bye to Winnie, as she wanted to be with us.  She cried with me, and said, "I don't cry for every dog, but this is Winnie, and I love her."  We hugged, and Luke and I took our dear girl home for the last time.  I called Mark at work and briefly shared the sad news.  Next, I sat down with the kids, and in small, manageable chunks, explained what was happening and asked them if there were any ways that they'd like to celebrate Winnie's life and say good-bye.  Almost immediately, Luke got down on the floor with his furry sister and began sketching her... "So I can remember her," he said.  

"Take my picture with her, Mommy..." he requested.  

Meanwhile, Leah made acrostic poems for each of us, so that we could write special things about Winnie for each letter:

The kids had lots of questions.  Luke wanted to know why we couldn't do a "total organ transplant" for Winnie.  I explained that wasn't a procedure that had been invented yet, and he answered with fierce determination, "Well, that's what I am going to do when I grow up.  I am going to figure out how to do one so that dogs can live longer and other families don't have to be sad."

Leah shared (with wisdom and perception far beyond her 7 years):  "I'm sad because Winnie is such a part of our daily routine.  Our house is going to seem empty without her."  Leah also teared up when she said, "It's not fair.  I've only had 7 years to be with Winnie, and everyone else has had longer..."

The kids slept with their Winnie stuffed animals that night and took them to school last week.  We talked about grief, loss, Heaven, and God's grace.  Luke independently added, "And thank you, God, for Winnie," at the end of our family bedtime prayers.   There were so many moments that broke my heart, and I felt like my children grew up in an instant.  I would have given anything to have sheltered them from these hard life lessons, and their maturity astounded me.  Monday night was awful, and the anticipatory grief was crippling for Mark and me.  I slept on the floor beside Winnie, and we could barely breathe through the pain.

I cancelled all of my appointments for Tuesday and Wednesday, and didn't leave Winnie's side.  She and I pored through hundreds of loose photos and made photo memory boxes for Luke and Leah.  Somehow, this hard task was much easier with Winnie on the floor beside me, and it gave me purpose on Tuesday. 

It has been so cold outside, and wasn't supposed to warm up until later in the week, but when I let Winnie out on Tuesday morning, I was shocked to find that it felt like a spring day.  It was sunny and beautiful, and Winnie immediately sat in her yard, enjoying the warm sun on her fur, and sniffing the breeze.  

I truly believe that Tuesday was an unexpected gift from God to Winnie. He knew how much this last time in the sunshine would mean to her, and we spent hours just sitting together in the quiet, enjoying our yard.  I had a sense of amazement that the world was still spinning and that peoples' routines were going on as usual, while our lives were completely turned upside down.  It was a strange feeling to be surrounded by our own little cocoon of grief and loss, and still receive messages and e-mails from people that involved everyday chatter.  Mark slept beside Winnie on Tuesday night, and snuggled up in a sleeping bag on the floor with her.   

Wednesday was Winnie's "Last Day".  She was able to make it out to the bus stop with Luke and Leah in the morning, and I spent much of the day curled up on the floor, holding her.  In the afternoon, I carried her into the yard so that she could wait for the school bus one last time:  

The kids each had special "alone time" with Winnie in the afternoon, reading beside her: 

That evening, several friends came over to say good-bye to Winnie.  Our neighbors were never dog people, but when they met Winnie several years ago, they fell in love with her, and decided to open their hearts and home and get a puppy.  Winnie is very special to their family, and she loves them, too.  Other dear friends knew exactly what we were going through (and had recently lost their pet), and they came over to deliver hugs and a cookie cake.  People looked at pictures/albums of Winnie, shared their favorite memories of her, and at one point, there were 7 children surrounding her, quietly giving her kisses and hugs:

For the first time in weeks, Winnie came into the kitchen while I made dinner on Wednesday.  This has always been her "spot", and I joke that she's perfectly underfoot, right in the midst of kitchen preparation... supervising and waiting for a scrap.  She hasn't felt well enough to do this lately, so when I heard her come into the kitchen that evening to help one last time, my heart broke yet again.  Winnie seemed to be able to give each person exactly what they needed at the end of her life, to prepare to say good-bye.  Even in her last days, when she was so sick, she continued to be a source of incredible love and joy.

The kids wanted to take another picture with Winnie before bed, and slept in Daddy's Black Dog shirts: 

Thursday was, without a doubt, the most difficult day.  The children said good-bye to Winnie before school (I can't write about that yet- the pain is too sharp).  Mark and I took Winnie to the vet at 10:00 to say good-bye.  She trusted us to put her in the car one last time, and the ride was very difficult.  There are many private moments that I will hold in my heart forever about that morning, but it is important to note that I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace once we arrived at the vet.  I could feel God in the room with us, and had a physical sensation of Him holding us as we held each other.  In the last moments, Winnie rested her head on her special pillow, and we told her how much we loved her.  We thanked her for sharing her life with us, for choosing us to be her humans, and for making us parents.  We told her what a great sister she was to Luke and Leah, how much joy she gave us each day, and how much we were going to miss her.  For 13 years, Mark and I said the same thing to Winnie each night at bedtime: 

"Night-Night, Win, Mama loves you."
"Night-Night, Win, Dada loves you."

We whispered this to Winnie at the end, and it comforts me to think that she was at peace carrying these last words in her heart.

I'm not ready to fully process everything or re-enter the world yet, and we are being gentle with ourselves this week.  We're exhausted, emotionally and physically, and the waves of grief still overwhelm us when we don't expect it.  As much as we try to prepare ourselves for the moments that we know will hurt, there are other unexpected ones that take our breath away.  The doorbell rang on Thursday afternoon... and no one barked.  The cashier at the grocery store asked if I wanted "paper or plastic", and for the first time in 13+ years, I don't need extra plastic bags.  When Mark's alarm went off on Friday morning, there was no tail thumping on the bed to joyfully announce the day... and no one to feed or let out.   The house is so quiet, even with 2 children here.  My eyes can't stop going to Winnie's "spot" on the carpet, and when I walk in the door, I still talk to her.  Yesterday, I was running errands with the kids, and Leah saw the pet area of the store.  She said, matter of factly, "Well, that's sad.  We don't need anything in that section of the store..."    

In the midst of all the sadness, there have been so many beautiful moments.  People have surrounded us with love, and have sustained us with their memories and tributes to Winnie.  Each photo that is shared, story that is told, and thoughtful card that we receive helps ease the pain.  We've received flowers, treats, gifts, and meals.  The people who love us know that Winnie was more than a pet to our family, and have wrapped us in prayer and support.  The children have learned this week that through grief and sadness, there are opportunities for compassion and love.  Just as all through her life, Winnie taught our family about unconditional love, living in the "now", and unwavering loyalty, she also taught us lessons in her final days.  She showed us how to come together as a family in times of sadness, how to lean on each other in our grief, and how to say good-bye.  She reminded us to rely on God when when we felt like our burden was too much to bear, and losing her has shown us that she has touched so many lives and left a legacy for many.    

At one point last week, Luke said, "I know that Great Granddad is up in heaven, holding a big stick, ready to throw it to Winnie on Thursday."  I choked back tears, and told him, "Yes, Buddy, I know that Winnie can't wait to meet him...".   On Friday morning, Luke told Mark, "Daddy, I think I saw the clouds open up at 10:00 yesterday morning."   Out of the mouths of babes.

We received so many wonderful gifts to honor Winnie and to comfort us, and I want to mention the Kidolences Boxes that were sent to Luke and Leah.  A college classmate (who is a child psychologist) started a company that sends care packages to children who are coping with loss.  These bereavement boxes are filled with special items to help kids during times of grief, and these gifts of love helped L&L immensely last week.  Here are a few pictures of the children doing some of the activities in their Kidolence Boxes:

  As I took this photo of the kids, a white light shone in the top corner of the frame, no matter how much I tried to change the camera angle.  I like to think that it is Winnie looking down on her brother and sister, giving them peace:

Leah whispered to Winnie as she kissed her good-bye, "You're the best dog ever.".  No truer words have ever been spoken.  I know that with time, our sharp pain will turn into a dull ache.  The sadness that we feel will be replaced by smiles as we think of our special girl, and we have so many wonderful memories with her.  She is truly the love of our lives, and we carry her in our hearts each day.  As Winnie the Pooh said, "How lucky we are to have loved something so much that makes saying good-bye so hard".     

 Thank you, precious girl, for all that you have given us.  We love you so very much.

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

We kicked off the new year last week with pancakes and a cozy Pajama Day on January 1, and stayed warm indoors after just returning from our Christmas travels.  So far, it's been a frigid winter, and it's absolutely freezing outside!  L&L have gone to ONE full day of school since December 20th, including early dismissals, delays, days off, etc. which are all due to cold weather (and not a single snowflake)!     

While we were in Pennsylvania over Winter Break, we took advantage of the cold temperatures to take the kids snow tubing for the first time:

We bundled up in our winter gear, and had a great time tubing at Ski Roundtop.  This is the place where I participated in my school's weekly Ski Club growing up, and it brought back lots of memories.  The kids asked if they could try skiing/snow boarding next year, and I'm excited about teaching them.  In the meantime, snow tubing was a blast, and we all enjoyed it.  

Here are the kids at the top of the run.  We rode down in tandem several times, too, but I couldn't figure out how to take pictures of that (while holding on for dear life!):

The Magic Carpet took us to the top of the tubing hill, and Leah showed us how to ride up in style!

We're under all that winter gear somewhere! 

She looks so little in this giant tube!  

One recent event that warmed our hearts was the Children's Christmas Program at church.  Our little sheep and Wise Man did a wonderful job helping to tell the Nativity story, and were adorable in their costumes: 

I was a little nervous at our dress rehearsal the day before the performance, as here are a few of the things that were said/overheard:  

1.  "Children, we DON'T throw Baby Jesus!"

2.  "Please stop eating the hay.  You are not a real cow/donkey/animal."

3.  "Give me the shepherd staff.  It is not a weapon."

However, the kids pulled it together, and the actual program went off without a hitch.  After weeks of rehearsal (and several sleepless nights/dreams later about all the things that could possibly go wrong), there was nothing more beautiful than the sound of those sweet little voices singing Christmas carols and telling the story of Jesus' birth.  The grand finale of the program was "Go Tell it on the Mountain", which was their favorite, and was sung with great gusto and enthusiasm.  

One other funny note about the Christmas program: I decided at the last minute to take all the costumes home to steam/press them the night before the performance.  Our friend teased me, saying, "Carrie, I'm SURE that the shepherds had perfectly ironed garb 2,000 years ago..."

In other news, the 4th graders also stayed warm with a recent indoor field trip to watch a women's WFU basketball game.  Somehow this was educational as it fit into their P.E. unit, and I was excited to be chosen as the chaperone for Luke's class.  The kids squealed with delight when they saw the name of their school flash across the coliseum, and there was a record high number of spectators at the game that day (with over 10,000 school aged children in attendance!).

Wake Forest won the game, and the players came up into the stands to give everyone high fives afterward.  I think that this may be my favorite field trip ever.  Wake Forest Sports + seated, entertained, happy kiddos = WIN!

Our final warm and cozy activities right before Winter Break were Christmas parties.  Oh, so many Christmas parties!  We celebrated with Girl Scouts.  Both children had parties at school.  Mark had a work party.  My Book Club held its annual holiday gathering.  There were gift exchanges, book swaps, White Elephant gag gifts, and I taught a Sunday School lesson devoted completely to candy canes.  All of the festivities were wonderful, and I'm not complaining, but I did a lousy job taking pictures in between the shuttling of everyone, making treats, preparing food for potlucks, hosting class parties, and taking gifts to the appropriate places.  In fact, we didn't send out family Christmas cards this year for the first time. I decided that something needed to give, and that was it.  I think that God created January for hibernating after the hustle and bustle of the holidays, so perhaps the cold weather is intentional, so that we can cuddle up on the couch this month and slow down.  Here are the only three photos that I have of the last few days leading up to our Christmas travels.  As you can see, there was a common theme of red holiday attire in our family:

He still loves that Santa hat!

I made Grinch kabobs again for Leah's class this year.

Mark had an "Ugly Sweater" day at work, and this jacket was perfect for his "business casual" style!

We're staying warm with lots of snuggles, hot chocolate, and fires in the fireplace lately, and I just heard that there's only 72 more days until spring!  

Leah is 7!

Our sweet girl turned 7 today!   Leah's birthday was extra special as we woke up to find out that we had a snow day... without snow!   School was cancelled (due to cold temperatures and some freezing ice in distant parts of the county), and Leah was excited to be home.  For the second year in a row, Leah chose not to have a big "friend party", and instead wanted to celebrate her special day with her cousins at "Cousins Christmas" in Williamsburg (pics to be posted soon) and with a "Leah Day" earlier this week.  "Leah Day" consisted of outings to Build-a-Bear and Chuck E. Cheese's, and Leah chose a special lunch.  It was a great way to end Winter Break and do some of our birthday girl's favorite things!  

Both kids chose a Squirtle (Pokemon character) at Build-A-Bear.

Cleaning her Squirtle.

Putting on Squirtle's new outfit.

Big Brother makes out pretty well on Leah Day, too!

Leah requested an "Emoji-themed" birthday.  My children have inherited my love of themes, and enjoy choosing a theme each year.  Our new 7-year old started her day by receiving a few Emoji trinkets and prizes, and we held her family party over Daddy's lunch break:

 I asked L&L to smile for a picture together, and the next few photos perfectly capture life with these two goofballs: 

Attempting a "normal" picture, while I am warning, "Luke, don't squeeze her too tightly"...

Simultaneously giving each other Bunny Ears (and not telling each other)....

Luke causing Leah dissolve into giggles.  She's his best audience, and still thinks that he hung the moon.

Of course Leah chose to open the present that Luke gave her first.  It was the new DogMan book, and is a favorite series in our house right now:

There were many presents, some sweet snuggles, and several priceless reactions to her gifts:

I love Luke's expression!

Someone was SO excited to receive her "very own" drone from Grandpa!

Pool Ball, just like at Mimi's house!

If I could freeze a moment in time from today, I'd want it to be the image captured in the next two pictures.  Nothing is sweeter than my precious pink baby girl in her bunny slippers, opening birthday gifts, with her furry sister at her feet.  These photos are bittersweet for me, and I am thankful that Winnie was able to find joy in Leah's birthday today, as she "helped" with the tissue paper and was a part of our family celebration.  

This afternoon, we went to the movie theater with friends, and saw "The Star".  We met Daddy after work for dinner at Rio Grande, which was Leah's choice, as she remembered that patrons celebrating birthdays receive a special serenade, complete with drums, a giant sombrero, and Mexican fried ice cream.  Afterward, we went home for birthday cake and family games ("Two desserts, Mommy?!", my children asked, wide-eyed, not quite believing their luck).  

The grand finale of Leah's birthday will take place tomorrow, when we'll take cupcakes in for her class.  Her teacher has been wonderful about making a big deal about students' birthdays, and Leah is looking forward to having a special celebration at school with her friends:

Sweet Leah, you are the definition of joy.  The world is a brighter place because you were born, and the past 7 years have been filled with incredible love and light because of you.  You bring sweetness, kindness, and immeasurable love to everyone who knows you, and you are a blessing to all of us.  Daddy, Luke, Winnie, and I were given an extraordinary, precious gift when God chose you to be in our family, and we adore and treasure each day with you.  Happy 7th Birthday, Peanut!  We love you so much!