Actually I’ve been trying to figure out simply how to even put words to all of this period, and I really don’t know where to even start or what to all even share, so I’m just going to start somewhere and hope the best, my sincere apologies if this gets ummmmm … long.
Four years ago we adopted our little yorkie Lily. I won’t get into the details of that adoption, other than that we wrested for quite a while about when to add another four paws to our family and what kind of dog to get and where to get it from. At the very last minute God stepped in and presented us with an opportunity we weren’t actually considering, but it was clearly meant to be. We adopted Lily and didn’t know her real name, her age, her history, or anything about her. I was the one who had gone to meet her, and I basically couldn’t in good faith drive away and leave her.
I would find myself at the vet two days later and felt exactly the same way I did when I took our adopted son to the doctor for the very first time. I had no way of really answering any of their questions. We just didn’t know.
We fell in love with her immediately, and would quickly learn that somewhere along the line she had had a tough beginning. We hadn’t been the ones who had initially raised and trained her, but we would be the ones that would love her well through the last half of her life, and we would love her well despite the emotional baggage she carried with her from her past.
This summer we were quite sure we would lose her before fall. Physically her body was failing her and it was so hard to watch her slowly age and fade. We continued our talk about when we would be adding a second set of four paws to our family (a conversation we’d been having for at least the last year). After a lot of discussion, there was a lot we didn’t know, but there was several things we did. We knew if Lily was still alive, we would have to adopt a small puppy, so that Lily would be able to hopefully feel the “first born” and be able to adjust in time, and not spend the last of her days hidden under the couch cowering in fear. We also knew despite the huge popularity right now - we did not want a mix breed, a “designer” breed. We wanted a full bred yorkie, just like our Lily.
So often our conversations felt so much like how I felt when we were in the process of adopting our son. What age would we consider, what ethnicities would we consider, how far away would we consider having to travel, how were we going to pay for this…
We started contacting breeders and no one was offering pure bred yorkies, everyone was breeding the designer mixed breeds. We decided to put our name on several lists if anyone would ever happen to have a litter of full yorkies and have a female available.
We were officially “in waiting” for our next adoption. We had no idea which place would contact us, if any, and we had no idea when we might hear anything, if ever. But we were an official family in waiting, yet again.
We continued to love on our Lily all summer and continued to wonder just how much longer she was going to be with us.
And then we found ourselves the last weekend in August. It was the angelversary weekend of the original due date we were given when we had found out we were pregnant with our daughter, Faith. We had lost her before her due date due to Trisomy 18, and even through three years had passed, it was still a tough weekend, a tough reminder of all that never came to be…
And then out of the blue I received a message that same weekend. There had been a litter of yorkie puppies just born and there were three females available, and they were wondering if we were still interesting and waiting. I honestly couldn’t quite believe it. There was a photo of all three tiny little newborns attached. They were about five hours away from us.
Well, we basically knew immediately that this was really an amazing answer to our prayers. (Yes, I pray for the fur babies in my family) We agreed and sent off a deposit within a few days. We had officially moved from a family “in waiting" to a family that had been “chosen”. We were matched to our newest member of the family, and now we needed to just wait a little longer until she was old enough, and big enough to get to come home with us to her “forever family.”
We decided to not tell our youngest child, and only decided to tell a very small handful of people. We chose yet again to not publicly announce this upcoming addition to our family beforehand. We hadn’t with Isaiah. We hadn’t with Faith. We knew better than to flippantly live in expectation of perfection and entitlement. We knew better than to celebrate prematurely, because we had learned over and over that life is never quite what you think it’s going to be, and surely not want you are wanting it to ever actually be.
The last ten weeks we have been walking around planning and prepping for this addition, but not able to really talk about it to anyone, and to really not talk about it at all at home. It was very similar to my pregnancy with Faith.
Four years ago we adopted our little yorkie Lily. I won’t get into the details of that adoption, other than that we wrested for quite a while about when to add another four paws to our family and what kind of dog to get and where to get it from. At the very last minute God stepped in and presented us with an opportunity we weren’t actually considering, but it was clearly meant to be. We adopted Lily and didn’t know her real name, her age, her history, or anything about her. I was the one who had gone to meet her, and I basically couldn’t in good faith drive away and leave her.
I would find myself at the vet two days later and felt exactly the same way I did when I took our adopted son to the doctor for the very first time. I had no way of really answering any of their questions. We just didn’t know.
We fell in love with her immediately, and would quickly learn that somewhere along the line she had had a tough beginning. We hadn’t been the ones who had initially raised and trained her, but we would be the ones that would love her well through the last half of her life, and we would love her well despite the emotional baggage she carried with her from her past.
This summer we were quite sure we would lose her before fall. Physically her body was failing her and it was so hard to watch her slowly age and fade. We continued our talk about when we would be adding a second set of four paws to our family (a conversation we’d been having for at least the last year). After a lot of discussion, there was a lot we didn’t know, but there was several things we did. We knew if Lily was still alive, we would have to adopt a small puppy, so that Lily would be able to hopefully feel the “first born” and be able to adjust in time, and not spend the last of her days hidden under the couch cowering in fear. We also knew despite the huge popularity right now - we did not want a mix breed, a “designer” breed. We wanted a full bred yorkie, just like our Lily.
So often our conversations felt so much like how I felt when we were in the process of adopting our son. What age would we consider, what ethnicities would we consider, how far away would we consider having to travel, how were we going to pay for this…
We started contacting breeders and no one was offering pure bred yorkies, everyone was breeding the designer mixed breeds. We decided to put our name on several lists if anyone would ever happen to have a litter of full yorkies and have a female available.
We were officially “in waiting” for our next adoption. We had no idea which place would contact us, if any, and we had no idea when we might hear anything, if ever. But we were an official family in waiting, yet again.
We continued to love on our Lily all summer and continued to wonder just how much longer she was going to be with us.
And then we found ourselves the last weekend in August. It was the angelversary weekend of the original due date we were given when we had found out we were pregnant with our daughter, Faith. We had lost her before her due date due to Trisomy 18, and even through three years had passed, it was still a tough weekend, a tough reminder of all that never came to be…
And then out of the blue I received a message that same weekend. There had been a litter of yorkie puppies just born and there were three females available, and they were wondering if we were still interesting and waiting. I honestly couldn’t quite believe it. There was a photo of all three tiny little newborns attached. They were about five hours away from us.
Well, we basically knew immediately that this was really an amazing answer to our prayers. (Yes, I pray for the fur babies in my family) We agreed and sent off a deposit within a few days. We had officially moved from a family “in waiting" to a family that had been “chosen”. We were matched to our newest member of the family, and now we needed to just wait a little longer until she was old enough, and big enough to get to come home with us to her “forever family.”
We decided to not tell our youngest child, and only decided to tell a very small handful of people. We chose yet again to not publicly announce this upcoming addition to our family beforehand. We hadn’t with Isaiah. We hadn’t with Faith. We knew better than to flippantly live in expectation of perfection and entitlement. We knew better than to celebrate prematurely, because we had learned over and over that life is never quite what you think it’s going to be, and surely not want you are wanting it to ever actually be.
The last ten weeks we have been walking around planning and prepping for this addition, but not able to really talk about it to anyone, and to really not talk about it at all at home. It was very similar to my pregnancy with Faith.
I was registered and training to run a half marathon race near the town they were in, so I was able to stop that race weekend and meet all three of the little puppies. Our family had first pick of the litter. When they were first brought out, my eye immediately picked which one from a glance I liked the most. They were all set on the floor in the room. One went in the opposite direction, one didn’t move at all, and one came zipping right over immediately to me. Of course it was the same one that I had been drawn to as well. I picked her, and she picked me. It was instant love and she nestled right in to my arms.
She needed just a few more weeks of growing before she would be ready for us, so we left that day with a date set for early November.
Somehow the secret remained and I found myself picking up my mom and heading out of town as soon as I had our youngest dropped off at school. I had a little social media announcement all written and an adorable little announcement photo all designed - all ready to blast out on social media after we officially had her, we were so excited to finally share our big news with everyone!
After a five hour drive, we finally arrived. We had stopped for gas before arriving at their kennel, and while I was in the bathroom, I got a text message. It was a copy of our little Piper's papers. It had her birth date. August 20, 2017. Exactly one week before our Faith’s August 27th due date. It had her parents names. Boo Boo and Faith. Her mothers name was Faith. I started to just weep in the bathroom of a dirty Casey’s gas station. I had no words.
We arrived, and there she was. I picked her up and we snuggled and we talked and played for a while and then I handed her to my mom while I was in the process of all the paperwork. And then my mom walked her over to me… and we began to realize that our little Piper, was actually sick.
And it left me with a sick feeling inside. That almost out of body feeling when you slowly breath in a large breath of air and look around you knowing this exact moment in time is going to forever change your life and forever be etched in the memories that you will never forget deep within you.
The next hour was a blur of decisions and emotions. The kennel was accommodating and of course wanted to do the right thing, the best thing, and offered us several options. We weighed them, and discussed them, and I called my husband, and I was praying, and I was trying to not break down and cry. Deep inside as I held that little puppy, my heart broke in utter devastation as I knew I was not going to be going home with this precious little life.
I would again have to drive away without a life I so disparately wanted to have added to our family. I had stood in the sun, in the crisp fall breeze, on the phone with my husband, listening to utter silence from his end, so similar to the phone call to him when I first told him about Faith… I stood with my eyes closed, facing the sun, and begged with God to not make me have to choose this again, not make me have to go through this again. And granted, yes I know this was simply a dog - not a child, but it was more the matter of expectation and disappointment. A matter of a broken heart and devastation and knowing I would have to find the strength to have to drive away, and re-enter my house empty handed and broken hearted. There would be no surprise, no bustling of activity and laughter and energy, there would be no middle of the night crying from a scared little one who had been separated from her mama and sisters and all the familiar sounds and smells and comfort of the only home and life she had ever known.
I was very grateful to have my mom there with me. She was a wonderful support, a strong council of information, and able to ask and direct some of the hard questions and decisions on the table in front of us. And she sat quietly next to me in the car as we backed up and had to drive away.
Of course we knew it was all for the best, of course we all knew there was a reason and a purpose and a lesson in and through all of this. I just wished it wasn’t having to happen in this way, to us, yet again.
She needed just a few more weeks of growing before she would be ready for us, so we left that day with a date set for early November.
Somehow the secret remained and I found myself picking up my mom and heading out of town as soon as I had our youngest dropped off at school. I had a little social media announcement all written and an adorable little announcement photo all designed - all ready to blast out on social media after we officially had her, we were so excited to finally share our big news with everyone!
After a five hour drive, we finally arrived. We had stopped for gas before arriving at their kennel, and while I was in the bathroom, I got a text message. It was a copy of our little Piper's papers. It had her birth date. August 20, 2017. Exactly one week before our Faith’s August 27th due date. It had her parents names. Boo Boo and Faith. Her mothers name was Faith. I started to just weep in the bathroom of a dirty Casey’s gas station. I had no words.
We arrived, and there she was. I picked her up and we snuggled and we talked and played for a while and then I handed her to my mom while I was in the process of all the paperwork. And then my mom walked her over to me… and we began to realize that our little Piper, was actually sick.
And it left me with a sick feeling inside. That almost out of body feeling when you slowly breath in a large breath of air and look around you knowing this exact moment in time is going to forever change your life and forever be etched in the memories that you will never forget deep within you.
The next hour was a blur of decisions and emotions. The kennel was accommodating and of course wanted to do the right thing, the best thing, and offered us several options. We weighed them, and discussed them, and I called my husband, and I was praying, and I was trying to not break down and cry. Deep inside as I held that little puppy, my heart broke in utter devastation as I knew I was not going to be going home with this precious little life.
I would again have to drive away without a life I so disparately wanted to have added to our family. I had stood in the sun, in the crisp fall breeze, on the phone with my husband, listening to utter silence from his end, so similar to the phone call to him when I first told him about Faith… I stood with my eyes closed, facing the sun, and begged with God to not make me have to choose this again, not make me have to go through this again. And granted, yes I know this was simply a dog - not a child, but it was more the matter of expectation and disappointment. A matter of a broken heart and devastation and knowing I would have to find the strength to have to drive away, and re-enter my house empty handed and broken hearted. There would be no surprise, no bustling of activity and laughter and energy, there would be no middle of the night crying from a scared little one who had been separated from her mama and sisters and all the familiar sounds and smells and comfort of the only home and life she had ever known.
I was very grateful to have my mom there with me. She was a wonderful support, a strong council of information, and able to ask and direct some of the hard questions and decisions on the table in front of us. And she sat quietly next to me in the car as we backed up and had to drive away.
Of course we knew it was all for the best, of course we all knew there was a reason and a purpose and a lesson in and through all of this. I just wished it wasn’t having to happen in this way, to us, yet again.
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