The Childless Mother

My Miracle | the Fulfillment of a Dream

This is what 41 looks like for me.  You are looking at a miracle.  Today is my birthday and the celebration of the first day of my second trimester.  A nearly 20-year-old dream fulfilled.  I am pregnant!  And huge for only 14-weeks!!!  Haha!!!  (There better be twins in there!)

God opened my barren womb.  It is the fulfillment of his many promises to me in my sacred prayers and through the blessings of inspired people that I would have children.  It is the result of a thousand prayers and at least as many tears.  God is faithful and my joy is exceeding.

In many ways I have been a gypsy, a transient in this world.  No roots, no home for very long, no sense of belonging.  But I will be his/hers and he/she will be mine and nothing will ever change that.

I am not the end of the line of my progenitors anymore.  I have hope now of continuing on, worlds without end, progeny of my own.  The dream doesn’t die with me.

I will have a flower to watch grow, to feed and nourish and strengthen and be enraptured by his/her blooming beauty.  I will feed him/her and he/she will strengthen me.  He/She will suckle at my breast and he/she will give me life.

He/She will be my very own.  I get stewardship of a glorious, magical soul from heaven, a child of God entrusted to my care.  A heavenly being to help navigate this life.

He/She is the fulfillment of a 20+ year old dream. For some this comes easy, this comes unintentionally, this comes unwanted.  This miracle in my womb cannot be more wanted, could not be more dreamed about, prayed for, mourned over.  God is faithful.  And I will be his faithful steward of his child.  Can there be any greater pursuit in this life?  Can there be anything more redeeming than to give your life for a child?

For the day will come when I will finally hear the words, “Mother, I love you.”  And I will love him/her to the moon and back.  I will give my all, my life for another.  I’ve waited my whole life for this.  

There is nothing I have done to bring this about.  It was all in His timing.  He told me it would be as much years ago, as I found myself frantically stressed about making it happen.  Surely there was another herb I could try, a procedure to have, more/better exercise, better nutrition, more faithful prayers, some magic drug.  “No,” he said, “Be still.  I am in control of this.  It won’t be anything you do that will bring it about.  It will be in my timing.  Relax.”  

I am infinitely grateful for my faithful, loving, and committed husband who exhibited great faith in the manifestation of this miracle.  He carried me in my times of faithlessness as of late.  He believed when I couldn’t any longer.  He is steadfast, a man of principle, and a rock that I can lean upon.  How comforting it is to be able to fall apart and be caught in his strong arms.  How glorious to be able to rejoice together.  

“We should never know the music of the harp if the strings were left untouched; nor enjoy the juice of the grape if it were not trodden in the winepress; nor discover the sweet perfume of cinnamon if it were not pressed and beaten; nor feel the warmth of fire if the coals were not utterly consumed. The wisdom and power of the great Workman are discovered by the trials through which his vessels of mercy are permitted to pass. Present afflictions tend also to heighten future joy. There must be shades in the picture to bring out the beauty of the lights.”  ~Charles Spurgeon

Today I rejoice!  There is hope on the other side of grief.  Always.  

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Healing Lazarus from Poisoning | My Lessons

I find the mysteries in life so fascinating…

Lazarus, not doing well :(

Laz's sad face

 

Lazarus, so weak

 

Laz perking up a little!

 

Laz, forever in my heart.

Lazarus, the dog I’d been nursing back to health after being on death’s door died yesterday, within days of my miscarriage and Mother’s Day four years ago.  He was going to be my dog when he got better.  I imagined him healthy, and strong.  I imagined his love and loyalty to me after being the only one on the ranch who gave a damn to help him.  No one even knew his name; he was a forgotten dog that came with the sheep herd.  By the time his condition was brought to my attention, he hadn’t eaten or drank anything in three days.  They believe he’d eaten something poisonous, meat from a dead animal gone bad, maybe.

I felt that I could save him, though he was already lying down on the bed of a truck with several dead lambs, as if his fate was sealed and he was going with them, to the dump that is their final resting place.  My first instinct was to give him activated charcoal, to help move the poison out, so I called my herb friend who suggested that I mix that with crushed garlic and administer via an enema.  So I did.  And he was better right away, drinking water within 30 minutes, and eating a few bites of food that day.  We also gave him essential oils to relax him, on his nose and on the pads of his paws, which are highly absorbable.  After laying there barely breathing before, he was now digging a hole in the dirt to cool off in.  He was gaining energy.

The next morning I gave him another charcoal and garlic enema, administered more oils, and also gave him minerals and probiotics to start giving him the nutrients he needed and build back up his gut flora.  He was doing better.  Every time I would administer something to him throughout the day, he would get up on all fours and drink from the water I had placed right next to him.  He still would eat little, to nothing though.  I tried raw milk, raw eggs, soft dog food, and crunchy dog food.  So I made sure to give him the minerals through an oral syringe, which he hated, so I had to use a little force.

On the third day, when I would give him the minerals, instead of swallowing, most of the time he would just let it dribble out of his mouth.  He was taking a turn for the worse.  It made me think he was giving up and wanted to die.  I would also pour liquid minerals directly onto his paws, so they could soak into him that way.

By the fourth day, he was breathing very heavy and fast, like he was grasping for air.  In asking around for help, I learned there was a veterinarian on the ranch (supposedly one of the best Vets in Mexico).  I had Marguerito (one of the ranch helpers) get in touch with him, and he said he would come see the dog.  It took him several hours to show up.  He said the dog had a bad infection in his lungs, which was why he was having trouble breathing (and eating, and only drinking a little here and there).  He said that penicillin could save him, and he had some, but no needle to inject him with it.  So I put a call into my herb friend to bring a needle to the ranch.  In the meantime, the Vet suggested we mix up some sugar/salt water for him in the oral syringe.  Our communication was very limited – he could only speak very little English, and I only very little Spanish.  Marguerito translated for us when he was around.

Knowing that he was a Vet, I asked him to administer the oral syringe while we waited for the needle to show up – that when I did it, Laz would often let it dribble back out of his mouth.  I figured the Vet would have had done this hundreds of times and knew an efficient (and safe) technique to help the dog keep it down.  He had Marguerito hold Laz’s head back while he administered the syringe.  I was unnerved by the way they were jostling him around when he had very little strength.  Marguerito forced Lazarus’s head back for too long that he suffocated him.  Laz died with Marguerito’s arms around his neck, went limp and fell to the ground.

Words cannot describe my heartbreak in that moment.  After all the gentle love and care I was giving him, these men didn’t take into account Laz’s fragility and sickly state.  I couldn’t help myself from falling apart in front of them, just bawling, and walking away.  I watched from a distance as they tried to revive him, to manipulate his limp body to let the fluid drain back out, but it was too late.  Those poor men couldn’t even look at me.  They just killed the dog I had been delicately and tediously caring for in the several days before, by their carelessness and inconsideration.

My friend called while at the store looking for clarification on the needle.

“Don’t bother,” I said.  “He’s gone.”

She came right over and we hugged and cried.

I was weeping off and on throughout the day.  Mark took me to go sit in a hot tub, to try to get away and relax a little bit.  He held me in the water as I cried and expressed how badly I wanted to save Lazarus.  He replied, “maybe you did.” <3

The day before Lazarus died, I told him that he should go if he didn’t want to fight, but that I really wanted him to make it and that I would keep being there for him because I loved him.  I also told him that we would see each other again in heaven, and that I would claim him – he could be mine, since no one else was there for him in his dying days.  I am a believer that animals do go to heaven – you can’t look an animal in the eyes and tell me they don’t have a soul.  Lazarus is surely there now.

Of course I named him Lazarus with the full hope and expectation that he would surely make it after those first signs of coming back to life after that first enema.

As always, I am looking for learning opportunities, and experiencing fully whatever is going on around me.

Marguerito, who has always been very kind to me since we met a month ago, called me last night.

“How are you, Mija?”

“I’m okay, Marguerito.”

“You think I kill your dog?”

Yes. “No, Marguerito, I think you were trying to help.”

“I sorry, Mija.  I see how you cry.  You have beautiful soul, you beautiful person inside and outside.  You come to the church with me tomorrow?”

See, how sweet he is?  I cannot be mad at Marguerito.  He was only trying to help.  Maybe Marguerito needed to see a softer side of humanity in me.  It is more than likely Laz wouldn’t have made it, and for all I know, they helped him out of his suffering, and I might have only prolonged it.  And truly, my anger can only be directed at myself, for not trusting myself to take care of him.

As for the Vet – it turns out that the Mexican government took him out of prison and sent him to work here (I guess that is not too uncommon – it is a way to make room in their prisons and a way for Americans to hire very cheap labor).  The story I’m told is that he killed someone in self defense.  Now it’s easy to start making judgments – whether he did it in self defense or not, is not for me to decide.  But my experience of him was a kind man, who wanted to help me and Lazarus, and took the time to do it.  Maybe he has some things to face regarding death.  Who knows what the death of this dog in his hands has brought back up for him?

As for me, it is Mother’s Day, four years ago I miscarried, and today I will bury the doggie I so desperately wanted to save and have in my life.

What are all the connections, coincidences, and reasons the Mexican Vet, the Mexican helper, Marguerito, and Lazarus and I were thrown together in this random situation at this ranch all far from our homes?  I can’t say for sure, but beyond the sadness it fascinates me, like all circumstances like it, believing in no accidents and no wasted experiences.

Our lives are chalk full of happy and tragic accidents, and strange coincidences.  When I get to heaven, I want to walk back through my life and see them plainly – how they all assisted me in my progress and growth as a human being.  I want to see that everything mattered, and everything counted for my experience.

I believe!

Lazarus, forever in my heart!

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~ Family, Flowers, Fertility ~

purple flowers

My sweet grandson was over on Labor Day.  He came in from playing outside holding the first two purple flowers.  He handed them to me, “these are for you Grandma Angel!”  After being thrilled about receiving them, he came in with one more, beaming, loving the joy he was giving to me. <3

cousins

Landon and Korbin.  Grandsons.  Cousins.  Playmates.  Cuteness.

tea party

Korbin.  Tea for one.  Sitting on a tea cup.  : )

family

Good to see family that has been away for months.  A game of cards.  Texting.  And an apple.  Off they go again.  Will miss them.  Is Korbin not the cutest?

Infertility Solution

The simple solution for infertility.  We’ll see.  : )  Actually… I have a good feeling about this. I feel like my time is coming.  This morning I wrote about 1200 words on this renewed hope and gut feeling.  Not sharing here.  Not yet.  Meeting with Shirlyn next week for acupressure on my ovaries/fallopian tubes.

Solution for Infertility

Perseverance.  Oh, and I just noticed my horsey in the background between the chairs : )

Mixed Media Painting

 

One of my latest paintings.

“I caught a glimpse of my reflection and saw a divine soul.
A child of the Creator, an heir of the Kingdom.
The light you saw in me set me free.
My life work yet to be, unfurling so delicately.
I’m weaving the parts together that came undone.”

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~ My Family ~

Woofie Marie Kemp | British Golden Retriever

Officially known as Woofie Marie Kemp.
She has my middle name, and Mark’s last name :-)
Over 7 years old now.  She still acts like a playful pup.
Sweet as can be.  Will submit to a Chihuahua.  Wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Follows me around while I feed the other animals.
Feels lucky she is the only one that ever gets to come in the house.  (wild guess)

chickens and ducks

When we went to get our chickens, I saw the ducks.
Had to have them.  Had to.
We thought we were getting two females.  We didn’t.  They hump a lot.  A lot.
They are noisy as heck, quacking every time they see us.
They want to be noticed, I guess.
They love frozen peas.
They rule over the chickens – but they all hang out.
The chickens come running out to me whenever I go around the horse.
The one facing this way is mean.  He pecks at my feet and legs.
So I started wearing my cowboy boots every time I go out, so I won’t get hurt.
But he’s missing now.
Some neighbors complained (rightfully so) that the chickens kept coming into their yard and messing things up.  So we had to contain them.  Miss Meany escaped and we haven’t seen her for days.  Smart one.  I wonder where her new home is.

Raja | Arabian Gelding Horse

This boy’s name was Photon when I got him.  But I couldn’t connect with it, so I changed it.
I had reviewed many names but nothing was sounding good.
So I asked to have a dream to find out his name.  I did.
I woke up with “Raja” on my mind.  Perfect!
Arabian – to suite his breed.
Pretty.  Yet masculine.
We both seem to love it.
Two people I have met while out riding told me he looks like a ‘Raja’.  Yeeeaah.
He brings tons of joy into my life.
I love him.

Mark Kemp

My main squeezie.
Best husband ever.
He has the biggest heart.
I wish everyone knew him like I did.

Angela DiGiovanni

Mua.

It’s not the family I imagined, but it’s the family that I love. <3

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~ Cousin Love ~

Cousin Love

Cutest Cousins Ever.  That’s all.

*my nieces, Gianna (10), Savannah (3), Sophia (6)

 

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