Let's get the broken part out of the way, first:
As you can imagine, the experience of watching a beloved creature who depends on us completely get hurt felt rather significant, and I immediately tried to note our reactions and extrapolate to possible future events: "No, Walter. You are not allowed to run with sticks. Trust me." I think I stayed pretty calm. I tried to keep the tone positive and reassure our friends that we were all OK and the evening's fun could continue (although we stopped playing "STICK!" and started playing "everyone gather around Hank and pet him." Hank appreciated the change in activities.) Sean's reaction ... well ... I'll let him add his own thoughts/correct mine if I'm off base, but I think that when his mouth was saying "I'm just going to take another look at your mouth, puppy," he was actually communicating this: "HOLY CRAP, MY PUPPY! MY LITTLE DOG IS HURT! CRAAAAAAAAAAAAP! TAKE ME, GOD, SPARE THE DOG!" To be fair, shortly after the accident Hank seemed to recover almost completely and took off running to explore the woods, as he does. Sean and I watched him go. Sean said: "It's fine. He'll come back." I said, "Why don't you go after him, though" and actually communicated this: "ARE YOU CRAZY?! GO GET OUR DOG! HE IS HURT AND UNTRUSTWORTHY AND WE ARE GOING TO LOSE HIM FOREVER!" Sean went and retrieved the dog, who was fine and, yes, probably would have come back on his own. Eventually. Maybe.
You guys, I don't know if you're aware of this, but being a parent is terrifying.
I don't know how we'll react the first time Walter takes a tumble or puts something dangerous into his mouth. I can't imagine how we'd deal with the news my parents got about me in October, 1985: it's cancer, final stage, terminal, your daughter is going to die in less than 6 months. All I know is that, whatever happens, we won't be alone.
As for Hank, he started acting Hank-like again right away ...a happy, social, mischievous, curious little dog. He was (and still is today) a little more mellow and cuddly than usual. We're keeping an eye on that, just to make sure he's not brewing up a little mouth infection. We're giving him ice water in his water bowl, (Hank says: "Thanks! That's thoughtful of you.") and also got him a "pup cup" of softserve from Dairy Queen (Hank says: "YOU ARE THE GREATEST PEOPLE IN THE UNIVERSE! I LOVE YOU! AND ICE CREAM!") He's not scared. He trusts us. He's a little wary of sticks, but certainly not as wary as he should be ... and that's good.
|Fishing: just what the doctor ordered!|
You may be wondering, "But how is Walter?" Walter seems to be doing just fine. He's started doing this adorable thing where he wakes up right as I'm trying to go to bed and pummels my vital organs with his feet and fists. Honestly, even when he's taking shots at my one, solitary, incredibly-important-for-both-of-our-lives kidney, it's reassuring to feel him up and active. This week was hard. Regular and vigorous Scooter movements were welcome bright spots.
The most tangible help for me this week came in the form of ... a bed. A thing of beauty: the head and feet of the bead can be raised and lowered, giving acid reflux a run for it's soggy money. It also had several massage functions. =) The bed is on loan from Pastor Gretchen's mom and was delivered by the Anderson clan last night, bless their aching backs! And I slept, oh did I sleep. I slept through the whole night for the first time since ... week 6, maybe?
In an email, Gretchen said: "You are loved ... and God answers prayers we scarcely ask." I can't think of a better way to sum up this week, this pregnancy, this life.
All's well. =)
|Me and Hank with Emma, Cooper and Maggie. For more pictures of our wonderful day with the Behnke Family, including pics of me looking huge and ridiculously pregnant, go to our flickr album.|