Triggers and Snakes

[My angel]

I've been blogging about all kinds of losses. This one may seem trivial to most, but it so profoundly rocked my child's world that it shook all of us and brought up all kinds of memories and feelings about loss. I don't think my child ever recovered from losing a beloved baby sister. They were so close that when my baby died a few months after Cedar turned three, Cedar was devastated. Cedar was the first to tell us a sister was coming, the day before we found out we were pregnant and months before we found out for sure we were having a girl. After the baby died, Cedar told us how it happened because Alli came back and told Cedar. It was always clear they had a special bond that transcended the veil. We had not told our three-year-old how the baby had died., but the knowledge was there, as with Alli's coming. Cedar's whole life was about that baby sister, so the loss was devastating. 

[Three-way tummy time--a moment that would never happen again.]

We got a counselor for my kids, but the counselor's full agenda seemed to be ferreting out information against us that DCSF could use to destroy us. That counselor rarely even looked at little Cedar and talked little more to Alexander, mostly banter. And we didn't know how to help Cedar sort through such huge emotions for a little child. Everything I read said little ones bounce back quickly, but it's been 14 years. I don't think Cedar ever bounced, even as the big 18th birthday approaches. Our terrible experience with a counselor meant it took years, until Cedar's middle school years, to seek out another. It helped some but not as much as we'd hoped. The loss of a baby sister formed the foundation for the rest of Cedar's life. I would not doubt that depression, anxiety, and a host of other physical and emotional ailments all relate to that critical event. I'm sure all of those emotions were stirred up and triggered a short time ago when Cedar found out a beloved snake had frozen due to the failing of a breaker. 

[Sweet little boy]

A year ago a little before Christmas, Cedar expressed interest in a banana morph ball python. Cedar has always loved animals, especially baby animals. When Cedar loves is deeply loved, even without outward signs of that. Christmas morning came, and Santa had brought a 3-month-old banana ball. To say Cedar was ecstatic would be an understatement. Cedar had eyes only for that baby and very carefully raised little Sol with care and tenderness, feeding him little frozen rats when none of the rest of us could. With all the knowledge gained from Zoology classes in high school and all the enthusiasm of an aspiring zoologist, Cedar tenderly assembled a bioactive cage. 

[We had a ball]

Fast forward almost a year from that Christmas morning, and Cedar's struggles with school and life crowded out conscientious care of the cage and the snake. The plants failed one after another. The rest of the cage was safe, sealed, and spacious. Sol became a nipper. We're not sure why, but when we put our fingers near the entrance to his hide, he'd snap. Possibly, he thought we were offering a rat. Possibly, he just had a nervous disposition. Still, Cedar faithfully fed him first every week then, after he became a year old, fed him every other week, which seemed to be about as often as he wanted to eat. But it meant that the most attention the snake got was right around feeding time. 

[The culprit: source.]

One night, Sol seemed agitated, moving from one place to another. I figured he was excited feeding time was coming up or that he decided he wanted to explore his cage. A day or so later, Cedar expressed concern over the heater. I mentioned it to my husband, who is usually our tech guy. None of us checked right away, expecting someone else to do it. None of us was unduly concerned. But Cedar checked on him a couple of nights later, and it turned out the breaker had failed, and the snake had gotten too cold. He had died. We all felt bad we had failed him. We all could have paid closer attention to the heater, but no one did because everyone expected someone else to do it or didn't fully grasp the danger. 

[mourning: source]

Cedar was devastated and riddled with guilt to the point that sound sleep didn't happen that night. We all felt tortured, filled with empathy for the snake's last hours and for Cedar. At first, Cedar wanted to wait and work through mourning. Sobs wracked Cedar's frame, though Cedar isn't much of a crier. Mourning and pain are usually felt deeply, under a logical, businesslike exterior. Cedar spent the morning also brainstorming about how to improve conditions and begged us to haul off both snake and cage. Then, in a quick search, I found the perfect snake, an older one that would be more durable than the baby we got a year ago, yet another banana morph python called Minion. When I mentioned him, Cedar expressed hope for the first time since we had discovered the snake the night before. The tears dried up. That didn't mean the tears stopped for good. Cedar has had several bouts of remorse and sadness since. But hope was definitely present. Though my mental health nurse friend said she, herself, would need time to heal, I knew Cedar would do better with this snake. 

[Much bigger boy; source]

My heart dropped when I found out someone else was going to come look at Minion the Banana that night we were looking at snakes, the day after we discovered Sol's loss. I found backup plans in the form of other snakes now that Cedar was eager to try again, but most were either too far, too expensive, too young, or problematic (ate live prey that could harm the snake). We were poised to drive farther to pick up a young snake that ate frozen prey when I got a text that there may still be hope for Minion. After about more than an hour of indecision in Minion's prospective buyer, we got the text we'd been waiting for...Minion was still available. We went to the seller and found that he was an expert breeder with 26 snakes he was paring down. We watched his huge snakes slither through the house and even held an 11-foot giant yellow one. He gave us more techniques to keep Minion safe and offered his services as a resource if we had future questions. It was love at first sight for Cedar. Minion is now happily settled in, and Cedar is fully committed to making sure he's the happiest, safest snake and set an alarm to make sure they spend bonding time daily, so Minion gets to come out of the cage and explore the room. 

[Loss; source]

Loss has been such a part of Cedar's life since near the beginning and runs deeply. Cedar has lost multiple pets over the years. I've been through miscarriage after miscarriage since, which, for my kids, has meant that the kids would get their hopes up for a baby sibling only to have those hopes dashed. That means Cedar endured the loss of hope for another baby sister slowly over the course of multiple years. Caretaking and parental instincts have only strengthened in Cedar. Minion did not replace Sol, but Cedar, I think, sees this as a chance at redemption from mistakes of the past. I'm thankful Cedar gets this opportunity. I know, as with kittens and other pets of the past, I feel like this is my angel Alli fulfilling Cedar's needs, for which I will forever be grateful. 

Not My Baby

[My friend loved her Yorkie mix: source]

Several months ago, a friend of mine and I went to pick up a puppy for her. We both bonded with this little one on our trip. Her youngest human child is a teenager. This puppy, for her, was her warm and fuzzy comfort. Even as she struggled with the trials of carrying her family's burdens, working full time, being there for everyone, her puppy, Kiki, was there for her. She faithfully followed my friend around and lay her head on my friend's feet. 

[The highway claims another victim: source]

Then, one day, a family member let Kiki out but didn't make sure she came back in. They live on a highway, and they'd seen her play there before. So they always had to make sure that Kiki came back. One day, That family member didn't see Kiki come back but also didn't tell anyone else Kiki didn't come back. The next morning, they found little Kiki dead on the highway. 

[Gateway to loss: source]

It reminded me of my Harmoni. We live near her on the same highway. When we first moved into our house, we had a dog get hit on the road. After that, we built a security fence around the backyard to make sure no other dogs followed suit. But one day, we forgot to make sure the gate latched. It didn't, and Harmoni led another dog of ours on a merry chase onto the Highway. The only way I survived was through turning to prayer and listening to spiritual music. It was hard. 

[How to mourn with compassion; source]

But the compassion I learned from losing my little, gray puppy to the highway prepared me to be there for my friend when she did the same. I just listened to her talk and gave her a shoulder to cry on without judging, criticizing, or blaming. Kiki's loss hurt my heart for my sake, but more than that, for her. She was able to get through with my help but also with the help of foster puppies she took in soon after her loss. She very carefully avoided ranting at the family member whose actions led to Kiki's death. She set an example for me of how to mourn with grace and kindness even as she was hurting so badly inside. I'll have to remember to follow her lead if ever it happens to me again. I pray I nedver have to follow her example.