There Was a Heartbeat

[A very pregnant Snow.]

Until I got my dog ultrasounded last week, I didn't realize how much I needed to see that beating heart.  I'd spent two weeks wondering when and if she'd deliver.  It's time to let her retire from baby making since she was once treated as nothing but a breeder.  We had to train her how to be a dog, how to receive love, how to play, how to romp.  But I wanted her to have one last batch because her favorite thing in the world, the thing that brings a smile to her face, is taking care of itty bitty babies.  She hates and is totally done with pregnancy, but she's all about those babies.  We have an appointment to get her fixed in less than six weeks.  But I wanted that one last batch for her. 

[from Pixabay]

But as the days ticked by, I wondered if she was going to lose that last baby or maybe have it grow so big she wouldn't be able to birth it live.  Last time, we had a stillbirth out of three pups.  I was afraid we'd have the same and not end up with any babies this time.  It started to stress me out so much that I was losing sleep. 

[source]

I know it's all playing into my own child loss.  After sixteen or seventeen child losses in a row, including one four-month-old and fifteen plus miscarriages, I gave up on the hope of a rainbow baby.  We now very carefully avoid any chances of another loss.  Some people say they're expecting a baby.  I got to the point that expecting for me meant expecting a miscarriage.  I lost count of the number of times I'd either test positive then find blood or, worse yet, I'd go into the doctor's office with hopes soaring then take one look at the still heart in that ultrasound and know my rainbow had turned to dust.  Again.  I needed that dog's ultrasound to show a beating heart for her but also for me.  I needed to not be told one more time that there was no heartbeat.  In that vet's office, I saw the first moving ultrasound I've seen for a long time.  And with it, hope was reborn. 

[The itty bitty bearer of the heartbeat--Cinnamon.]

We hoped for two puppies, one to raise alongside crazy six-month-old Bean as his buddy and one for my brother, who has dealt with miscarriage, divorce, and the recent and pending loss of several beloved fur babies.  But when that little beating heart--just one--came with female parts, we knew this puppy had to be my brother's.  And it's okay. 

[Bean responds to Cinnamon.]

When we give Bean's sister to my nephew, as has long been promised, Bean needs a dog buddy who can keep pace with him, who can defend itself against his wild attacks.  This little one who will not have a sparring buddy would have no defenses.  And my brother had to bury a dog they'd loved for 15 years two years ago, another one they'd loved as a comfort animal for one or two years recently, and will have to let another go soon.  They're also bidding farewell to another as an adult child moves on.  That leaves a large hole in their hearts I hope little Cinnamon can fill.  Meanwhile, we'll have Bean, his mom, and his daddy.  His daddy wants nothing to do with him.  But his mommy loves playing with him, when she's not pregnant or nursing.  All will be right with the world as long as that little heartbeat continues to pump.  We'll happily adopt out little Cinnamon because we know she'll find a happy, loving home and will be able to see her again. 

Meanwhile, my brother and his wife, who have a yours and mine kind of family, will finally get a little four-legged ours.  And they're so happy.  It feels like a good thing for everyone.  It's a beautiful thing when an ultrasound comes with a heartbeat and, with it, hope.