38 weeks

Here we are. J is 38 weeks pregnant.

The above pic' is not J. She is much more beautiful than that. We are going to make a body cast tomorrow (hopefully!). There is no time to waste, as the babby has already dropped in her belly, and she could go into labour at virtually any minute.

We are as ready as we can be. The "crash bag" is packed, we have the kit to collect the umbilical cord blood, my camera is ready - with batteries charged, the video camera is ready - with 5 blank tapes and two charged batteries. We have the baby seat in the car. I have two packs of smokes packed. We have a bassinette, crib, change table, breast pump, contact numbers, e-mail addresses, popsicles (for labour), homeopathic remedies (for pain and swelling), perinial wash tea, babby clothes, money in the bank, no names..., and so much more, and less.

I am putting together music for the labour and birth - I hope to have Maria Callas singing O, mi babbino caro when the babby is actually born. And you wonder why I have not been posting here? I have been up to my elbows in aggravated elephants, and having a hard time making lucid posts every day at my real estate blog. What will happen to it all when the squalling babby arrives?

We know not whether it is a boy, or a girl, but we are both hoping for a girl. I will post here as soon as we know (and I have a chance...).

My apologies to any who have been checking for scintillating and/or salacious details of my life. It's been hard to keep up...

it's been a while...

I've been really busy, and can barely keep my real estate blog going these days (link on sidebar to right), but I wanted to post this video of my 15 month old nephew finding his legs.

He's my sister's kid, and is a cute little gaffer. She is a great Mom, and a great sister.

euthanasia and the medal of bravery

Poor old Que. She has been such a trooper. A good and loyal dog. Even in her days of illness and weakness, all of the other dogs still respect and fear her - as do the cats.

I have been writing about her saga for a while now. It all started in the summer, when she was diagnosed with cancer. She was 14 in September, and so has lived a good, and a long life by dog standards. She has not seemed to be suffering any pain, only blows to her dignity, so we have avoided euthanasia. I have been changing her bandages and washing her daily for the last 6 months. We tried arsenicum to give her her own decision on whether to keep going, but it is time for us to make the hard decision.

We have a babby coming in 2 months, and the stench of her cancer is pervading the house. She has also taken to crapping in the kitchen lately. Last night and this morning, she had horrific smelling diarrhea, and it was all over the kitchen, and her. This has become untenable with the imminent arrival of the babby. I am just too worried about bringing a new-born into a house full of disease.

We have decided to end it this week. J called the veterinarian this morning to arrange to have her put down this week. It breaks my heart to do it, but I feel that we have little other choice. She can barely haul herself up the 4 front steps to get inside, and her world has shrunk to the kitchen, and the front yard and sidewalk in front of our house. She has absolutely no quality of life left.

I have given her this medal (from the Bataan Death March) for her heroism in defying death. We will not receive any such commendation, as we have succumbed to the inevitability of it for her.

I'm very sad today, and humbled.

the belly, the babby

Here are a few shots of the-belly-with-the-babby-in-it. We're at 7 1/2 months now. I wonder at how big that belly will get. J is small, and I am big, so I trust that her body knows how big to grow that babby. I was over 10 lbs when born. Hoping for no more than an 8 pounder here.

I have seen the babby pushing out for the first time. What a strange sight. The little gaffer was stretching or something, and it was weird to see. Reminiscent of an alien or such.

A couple of J's friends threw a baby shower for J yesterday, and she received some nice gifts. Babby clothes, books, etc. I read a Dr. Seuss book to the baby this AM. It is a book that Dr. Seuss wrote before he died, and is meant to be read to the babby in utero. It tells of all the Dr. Seuss stories that will be read when the babby is in this world. It was kind of fun. I liked the Hop on Pop story, as I'm sure that I will be a Pop that's a good spot to hop upon.

We chose not to know the sex of the babby before it was born (I admit that I pushed that), because we wanted the surprise. I'm so old-fashioned in some ways. J would like to know now, but she is cool with waiting. We just don't know what colour of clothes to get. We both really want a girl, but the divining done yesterday indicates a boy. No matter, I told J. If it's a boy, we'll just raise it as a girl. I'm kidding! Just so long as we don't get any Oedipus thing going.

We have no firm ideas for names because we both think it's silly to name someone that we do not yet know. The babby will reveal it's character, and we will name it then. The only sure thing is that we will honour my grandparents. McConkey for a middle name if a boy (my Grampa's middle name), Pearl for a middle name if a girl (Grandma's middle name). Names are very important, so we want to do it right.

Stay tuned.

flying bean-dog

This is one of my favourite photo's of our Ridgeback - N'kosa Zulu Blu - aka Bean, Bean-dog, The Bean, Red Dog, Red Dog One (I'm Red Dog Leader), QUIET!, GO LAY DOWN!, ON YOUR BED!, Baby Girl, Crazy Girl, etc.

She is a character, full of beans, and full of life.

standing strong

I wrote about the final chapter for Que a bit ago, but I have under-estimated her yet again. The deterioration reported then was due (we think) to her swallowing a large chunk of bone (her teeth aren't so good anymore), resulting in an intestinal back-up. She cleared that, and has been pretty good since.

She started seeping profusely again a couple of days ago, and yesterday I went and picked up another dose of Arsenicum Album (50M), and started dosing her every half hour last night. I don't expect the arsenicum to push her into her good night, but it does almost stop the seeping, and makes the old girl a lot more stable.

Watching and waiting.

Euthanasia - the final chapter

I have written (here and here) about our old dog Que, and about her cancer, and our dilemna about euthanising her.

We did not choose to euthanise, and after the last round of high-dose (50M) arsenicum, she was almost like her old self again. The weeping of the serum dwindled to almost nothing, she went out with the pack a few times, the tumour(s) shrank, and we thought that she might hang on until the babby comes.

Today that all seems to have changed. She went out to relieve herself this morning and collapsed on the lawn. She just laid there for a while until J coaxed her to come back into the house. She wouldn't eat today, no wagging tail, no interest in anything. We feel that she may have finally decided that enough is enough. Her breathing seems a bit laboured, and she is just laying in her spot in the kitchen. She won't even loft her head to look at us. She is either very pissed off at us for some reason, or she has given up. Right now, I wonder if she will make it through the night.

We have taken the bucket/lampshade/whatever that she has been wearing to keep her from ripping off the bandages (and eating them), so that she can die in peace and with dignity. She is a very proud and dignified old lady, and she hates that bucket.

We are on a death watch now, and I will keep you up to date.

(The photo above is from about 4 years ago)

A Deus Pai

J's Dad died this morning in Toronto.

He had been suffering with Alzheimer's the last few years, and had been in long-term care for the last while. He had his breakfast this morning, went to sit in his favourite chair, and quietly shrugged off his mortal coil.

He brought his wife and 12 children to Canada from Portugal in 1967. He spent his whole life here working his heart out to support his family until he retired. He started declining after that.

He lived for his faith, and we fervently hope that he has found his heaven.

Let angels sing him to sleep.

A Deus Pai.