|Lisa's Beloved Dog Kurgan|
The doctor’s words cut threw me like a butcher knife. “You will never be able to have children.”
After three hours of emergency surgery the results were final. No children, now or ever.
I tried to rest in the glaring light of the recovery room but all I could think about was the grim diagnosis. No children...
I loved children and had always wanted to be a mom. I had even bought baby clothes while I was still in high school and I dreamed of one day being a mother and naming my children, being there for them and loving them.
I didn’t know why, but I only bought boy clothes and imagined having a son who would be my little man. I would dress him in Levis and lumberjack boots and he would be the epitome of what a little boy should look like. I had such dreams for him.
After my surgery I went home to rest and rebuild. I was depressed and felt an emptiness inside of me but I had to focus my energy on getting well.
Imagine to my surprise, one month after surgery, I was pregnant with twins, twin boys! The boy clothes had not been purchased for nothing.
I carried them without incident until my fourth month. I began showing signs of distress and the doctor put me on total bed rest.
I was terrified for my babies and prayed every day for God to let them be okay. Please let me be the mother that I had always dreamt of being.
The pain had been present all day, cramping, mind numbing pain that showed no signs of stopping. I knew what was happening but could not accept it. One of the babies was letting go and leaving room for his brother to survive.
One week later, he let go as well and decided to join his twin.
No words of comfort could console me. I had taken on the burden of blame and anyone else in my path was also at fault. I had to blame someone for I could not accept the real reason for my loss.
I had gotten pregnant too soon after delicate female surgery. The heaviness of a baby, doubled by twins, was too heavy to adhere to my body. I had lost them and in a flood of blood and pain, they were gone and no amount of trying to push them back into place was going to heal me.
I spent the next three months in a crying, miserable haze. The emptiness I had felt after surgery had returned, but this time, it was stronger then before.
I had failed them. I had been able to create a miracle, two of them, and somehow I had not been strong enough physically to help them survive. I was lost.
My then husband could not comfort me, could not console me with his words of sympathy. They were his children too but I had forgotten that somehow. He was grieving as well.
He made the decision to buy me a puppy. I laughed at this silly notion. I did not want or need a puppy. I wanted my children back.
This was an impossible task but a puppy was more within his reach.
His mother found an ad in the local paper for purebred Rottweiler puppies. I certainly did not want a dog of this breed, having read horror stories about them but he reassured me, so reluctantly I made the call.
It had been 10 weeks since they placed the ad and by chance had one puppy left, a male.
Ten weeks? I asked them when the dog had been born and the breeder said, October 18, 1998...the night I lost my second son.
We made the trip to meet this little bear cub and as he was handed to me, I could feel a wetness on his bottom where he had just been bathed. He also had a mean case of the hiccups.
I took him home and as he whined all night, I thought we had made a mistake. He was a dog and I had no idea what to do with him.
So, as any mother would, I picked him up, held him and slept on the couch with him nestled safely in my arms. I was in “mommy mode” and he needed me and I guess I needed him too.
The next morning, I was in love.
Kurgan has been with me since he was 10 weeks old; he just turned 13 last October. He was diagnosed with cancer over 17 months ago and at that time, only given 10 months to live.
He is in my heart, my blood and he is the air that I breathe.
He is my son, my only child and he will always be a part of me.