Tuesday, April 16, 2024
FamilyMommy Kine Things

Saying Goodbye to our First Baby

That night we went out for an evening walk — for the first time as a family of three. A neighbor saw us and asked, “where is your dog,” and it almost broke me.

Because it’s not just our evening walks that are different now.

It’s a constant emptiness and quiet that pervades every corner of our home and our days (if such a thing is possible with a crazy, rambunctious 13-month-old). There’s no one waiting for a cube of ice when we grab a glass of water. No one sulking upstairs when a fly sneaks into the house. No cries to be fed starting promptly at 4:45 every evening. No loud barks of joy when someone comes home. The mailman delivers a package. The neighbors park their car. Or just because.

Letting her go was one of the hardest and easiest decisions Todd and I have made together. Hard because we all fought so long (in both dog and human years) for her to get better. A week at the hospital. Thousands of dollars in vet bills. Special medicines and diets. So impossibly hard, because we could have just kept right on fighting. 

But it was so easy too. Because when someone you love is done fighting, you need to be okay with that. And if you’re fortunate enough to be able to make that decision, you let them go.

And it wasn’t for nothing, because in the end we know we had extra months that we would have never had otherwise. Months of E chasing after her. Tossing her food at meal times. (and OMG is it such a pain now to clean up after him without her) Memories that E will never know, but we’ll never forget.

It has been a rough week. Just days after we lost Naiya, I received the most heartbreaking text from a coworker that my snarky, sarcastic work brother was also gone.

So everything is a lot quieter these days. Our house. My work text thread. The comments on my social media posts.

But wherever the two of those crazy, lovable creatures are, I hope that they found one another for a brief moment and greeted one another with a tail wag and a hug, from me. I wish I could do it in person.

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