But this is real life.
And right now, it's my life.
Sitting in the soft chairs that let you sink into a cozy embrace, we cuddle our coffees as a summer storm rages outside. Being that I am capable of uniting us in a Starbucks despite thousands of miles of displacement, I've decided I'm also capable of changing the seasons and deciding the weather. Call it artistic license. It's befitting of my mood, the storm. Dreary. But summer adds a bit of warmth to it, doesn't it? It's a good time to laugh in the face of it and dance in the rain. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I suddenly bark a humorless laugh, "Today started as a great day, my friend! A little too early… But I got in the car to head to the office with a to-do list and high spirits! I didn't see Regina under the house though… So I went to look for her. And I found her with two little puppies!!"
The clouds on my face fade as the memory takes me back. I squeeze my cup in enthusiasm. But not enough to pop the lid. That's a mistake you only make once.
"She let me get right up close!" I lean in, mirroring my memory. "And then she had #3!! It was amazing!" I lean back a little. "Ok, it was a little gross… But it was amazing!!
"After number four came 45 mins later, I decided I couldn't throw off the whole day's to-do list waiting on her, and she didn't really need any help anyway. So I went to the office."
I take a sip of coffee, leaning back in my cozy chair. Basic triple grande latte is my summer drink of choice since Starbucks doesn’t invest in creative hot drinks for summer.
"It was a good day of puppies. She had gotten a little testy, but eventually let me come bearing gifts of pizza and water and ice cream. I read ice cream is good for dogs in labor! Refreshing and high in calcium!"
I take another sip and the clouds on my face return.
"After nine, she kept having contractions, but got up and started walking around and letting us pet her and became way less protective. OK, she's done. Labor's over. 9 puppies. And the contractions are post-partum. That's normal. Gotta shrink that uterus back to size."
I shake my head.
"We were about to leave for a special premiere of Rouge One on the big screen! (By big screen, of course, I mean the projector in our friend's living room). I went down to check on her and the puppies one last time before we left. Because I'm such a mother hen. I had been checking on them about twice an hour!"
We laugh. Me, in delight, you, less so as you still don't know what's coming and that has sullied your delight.
I pause and take another drink of coffee to strengthen me.
"There was a paw sticking out of her."
I pull my hand down my face and turn to look out the window. The rain was pounding directly against it. Nothing could be seen beyond. It flashed a prismatic yellow with the lightning.
"Our duplex neighbors were leaving to go to the movie too. Our across-the-street-neighbors had come over at that moment, too. One to watch our kids, one to join the movie. We had an audience."
"'You're probably going to have to help it out,' said one."
I give a small smile.
"Giving words to the obvious. The inevitable. But in doing so, initiating action.
"My thoughts had been in the how. Push it in, turn it so it's head down, she should do the rest, assuming she lets me help, assuming she doesn't bite me, Jacob should sit by her head to comfort her, I don't have any gloves, I'm packed for the bush, everything's packed."
With my coffee nestled in my lap, I run my hands through my hair until my head rests in my hands. I turn to you and smile.
"My neighbor had gloves. It's good to live in community."
"So I got to work," I said matter-of-factly before bringing my coffee toward my mouth.
"I certainly didn't wake up that morning thinking that I would be sticking my hand inside my dog! But here I was."
I take a sip and then swallow quickly to hurry into the thought that just occurred to me.
"You know! They don't tell you how hard it is to flip a baby! Maybe it's easier on a baby… But that puppy… Any time I tried to pushed it in past the initial … area, Regina pushed out. I couldn't get it in far enough to get the head into position. And I was dealing with a foreleg here! So I wasn't about to get the butt in position if I couldn't get the head!!"
I drag my hands down my face again.
"Ugh! Just as I was thinking about how dismembering the puppy was the dumbest idea that had ever popped randomly in my head, I found another paw."
I lean back and stretch away the tension that slipped back from the memory.
"Gah, I was there for 10 minutes with no progress at all? That paw was a tiny sharp beckon of hope."
I pause, letting the hope sit in the room. Thunder crashed.
"The head was still bent back… I had to keep telling myself that this puppy was dead and I couldn't worry about hurting it, I just had to get it out. But she did it. She finally pushed it out. And two more, still in their sacks gushed out afterwards."
I took a deep breath.
"I thought… that maybe… They were still in their sacks… One was the runt, the other… The other could've been a healthy boy. I kept rubbing it thinking that maybe… I remember thinking, I'm holding a dead thing. I'm holding a dead thing. But I just kept rubbing it. They did it in 101 Dalmatians. Disney sets you up for such failure. First the hair thing! Such perfect hair… Then the crying thing. I've looked at myself in the mirror while crying. It's not pretty. Prince Charming… well, that worked out all right for me…"
We chuckle.
"Still, there was no valiant steed. Unless you count that ugly stray poodle who wandered into our house one day."
We chuckle some more.
I took another long swig of coffee. It was getting cool enough to manage that without searing my mouth.
"And then it was time to go to the movies!
"It was hard to concentrate… I just kept thinking about how stupid I had been."
You pull your cup away from its course to interject, "It's not your fault!"
(I have thus far been very polite during our coffee times to not put words into your mouth, but everyone says this. Everyone. So I will presume.)
"No!" I interrupt your efforts to assign blame to the nebulous cosmos.
"No," softer this time, "It is my fault. I knew, I knew that if she goes more than two hours without delivering the next puppy, that meant there was a problem. I had thought that another puppy was coming. But then she seemed to stop. She got up, she walked around, she changed her behavior to be more amicable. And I just figured it was over. I figured that she was having post-partum contractions to get the uterus back to size. That's a thing! But I didn't check. I didn't think to check. And that was stupid. I knew better, and I failed to think. It is my fault."
You begin to speak again.
"I know. I know. Here I forever am preaching about good self-talk. But there's a difference here. Having good self-talk doesn't mean that you never tell yourself anything that's hard to hear. When we make mistakes, it's important to own our mistakes. When we own them, we can learn from them. I learned I have a tendency to act overly confident in what I know when I don't actually know enough to be overly confident. Bad self-talk comes in when you switch from saying, I screwed up, to, I am a failure of a human being, I always screw up, I can't do anything right, I make a mess out of everything. That's bad self-talk. And I'm not saying that.
"What I am saying is that, I made a mistake. I did something stupid.
"And to top it off, someone came over and was like, 'it looks like she's pushing something out still!' and I said, 'no, no, she's just having post-partum contractions.'"
I face palm in the most literal of ways in shame.
"I acted like I knew what I was doing when I didn't." My words come out a little muddled as my lips are firmly pressed against the heel of my hand.
"And then, then!" I raise a finger to your small sympathetic smile, "someone else came by and said the same thing! And what do I do? The same thing! Will stupid never cease!?"
You raise an eyebrow.
"Yes, yes", I wave you off, "that was toeing the line of bad self-talk, but I was being hyperbolic."
I took another drink.
"So there I sat that night, on my porch with the cool night's breeze caressing, staring blankly at the black foliage, vibrantly green where the security lights hit it. And it occurred to me another thing that I advocate for. Joy, in times of stress. I believe this joy comes from the power of the Holy Spirit inside of us, that gives us the strength and the presence of mind to perceive the world in such a way that we can react in joy when the world would do otherwise. But I also believe that we can choose to reject the manifestation of this joy. And that's what I was doing in that moment. I was focusing on my mistake and its consequences. I was zoning in on my mistake and its consequences. And I wasn't leaving any room for joy. I was rejecting the fruit of the Spirit. So I opened myself up. What can I be joyful about? There are nine healthy puppies. A smaller litter means a better chance of survival for the others."
I lean in.
"But more importantly… When I went to the movie, my neighbor and the hostess, the two ladies in the room, huddled in with me. They listened to me. They heard me. They shared their own stories. And as I saw the tears glistening in their eyes, though I loathe to cry (have I mentioned how ugly I look when I cry?), I felt like I had a safe place to do it.
"I've had friends I could cry with before! But… these people were my colleagues. They're my co-workers. And I had never before, and never thought I would, feel so safe to be vulnerable with a team of people I was thrown together with. I've had so many bad experiences. Times where my being vulnerable got me judged at least and, at worst, condemned. But in that moment, it became very very clear, that I was a part of a team, an amazing team, who I could feel safe with… 'Friends' used to be a closer relationship than teammates, but now…"
I stop, raise my eyebrows and look up at the ceiling. For some reason that helps stave off the tears.
"Hold on, I need to regain my composure. You don't want to see me cry. Happy tears are way less ugly that sad tears, but best to just avoid that all together."
After I get sorted, I look back at you, my eyes still wide and my eyebrows still as high as they can go, and we laugh.
"So, yes, I found joy. The Lord can use every situation to His Glory. We're a motley bunch, this team I'm a part of. Unified only by our passion for missions and love of the Lord. But it seems like the love of the Lord can do amazing things in a situation like that. And He proved that to me last night."
"There was another one when we got back, she must have had it shortly after we left. She wouldn't let us take it away. I betrayed her trust when I didn't return the last three puppies. She's been testy with me ever since. Let's say it's because she's feeling better, strong enough to be defensive and protective. That's a better reason.
"But she's doing much better and all the other puppies seem to be alright. All but two are pitch black except for tummy markings, which makes it really hard to tell who's nursing and who's getting neglected, but she's not letting me close enough to do more.
"So I guess now, we'll just wait and see how it goes!"
I finish my coffee and look at the window. The storm had turned into a spring shower.
I'm not sure when the seasons changed….
Update: 6 puppies are still with us. And I am ready for them to be sold. And so is Regina! We're just waiting on the middle man to get back to town. Pray that that happens quickly!!
