And on Christmas morning we welcomed George.
Evan was so excited for her- they couldn't believe it.
(Still holding hands in excitement- I don't even think they realized they were.)
(The following are the pictures from that morning:)
The first few days she was nervous to hold him herself because he kicked. Our first morning I was cleaning pee off of him before breakfast. Our second night with him I was awoken at 2 by her saying he jumped the gate and we played hide n seek for awhile. It was like having a newborn.
When she went to the neighbors or anywhere else she would worry about him. I got this text:
In actuality, the boys and Charlotte and Charlie were all very gentle and sweet with the bunny... and hardly around him. Here are some pictures I took of Jack and Sam holding him:
And he seemed to do well in his home:
Madalyn checked on him constantly, rubbed him, baby talked to him... cleaned up after him, changed his water, fed him hay... he was her baby and she was his mommy.
Friday morning we were trying to run errands and I was calling and calling her to no avail. I went to her room to find her teary-eyed and holding him sweetly like a baby. "I picked him up by myself for the first time! He let me! He didn't even fight me like he fights you and daddy." She was so proud and so in love. She put him down and said her goodbyes and hopped in the car.
We went to Pet Smart and talked to woman about rabbits. We bought a new litterbox and baby gate tall enough that he couldn't jump it. She worried about him constantly. We were headed to the Lego Store in Downtown Disney to spend Christmas gift money and she didn't really want to go because she wanted to check on him. It was as if she knew.
We met Shaun at the gas station- he surprised us- said he was headed home to work and promised to check on George. About the time we were arriving at the Lego Store I got a phone call. It was Shaun: "we have a problem- the bunny's not moving. I think he's dead."
She was in the car with me... and 4 other exhausted kids. I had no idea how to handle it. I texted my friend we bought him from in a panic, she and Shaun spoke... he took him to the vet to see why he had died and their best guess was a back injury from trying to jump the gate again. And we had a new gate in the car.
I have never had as long of an hour as I had at the Lego store, trying to be strong and act normal knowing every time she said "yeah, I'm done I just want to see George," that there was no George. I encouraged her to fill another bucket of Legos. With prodding, she accepted and distracted herself planning a beach house. Evan asked why she was getting more. I pulled him aside and said in his ear, desperately, with no other excuse surfacing- "because her bunny's dead and she doesn't know yet and she's going to be devastated."
Yes. I said that. Just like that. To a ten year old.
Can you guess what happened next?
A) He said "oh poor dear" and kept shopping
B) He said "I'll go help her choose more"
orrrrr
C) fell apart with huge tears rolling down his face
I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know what I've been thinking with ANY of this- but more on that later. Why it didn't occur to me that he would actually mourn the bunny and have a broken heart for the bunny and for her never occurred to me. And as if that weren't bad enough allow me to tell you what unfolded next.
When he melted down and I was trying to watch all five in a crowded (CROW-DED) environment and trying to keep her from seeing him I panicked still more and snapped in his ear "Look. You can cry later but you have got to pull it together for her."
"I can't."
"You've got to. Do you want her to find out right now, right here, like this and grieve the whole way home?"
"No. I see what you mean."
"We will all cry at home but for now please be strong."
Proudest parenting moment of 2012, there you have it.
I did apologize to him and told him I shouldn't have told him but couldn't think of another way to get him to stop questioning all I let her buy (the younger two boys were oblivious in the chaos that is the Lego Store during Christmas break.)
When we got home she was saying things like "I'm the happiest girl in the world. I just can't wait to check on George and build my Legos." And if you'd had a stethoscope to my heart you wouldn't heard the most wretched shattering.
I walked her inside while letting the others get out at their own pace and leaving Charlotte in her carseat. I said casually (I think) "daddy wants to talk to you." And she knew. It was all over her face, she just knew... she walked in- I followed, into the bedroom. He said "sweetheart, I went to check on your bunny like you asked and he was dead." She looked at me like tell me this is a joke. Then said "NO!" and burst into gut-wrenching tears and sobs. Sounds I never wanted to hear from my sweet eight year old girl ever, let alone a few days after Christmas.
I sobbed. We sat and hugged and sobbed... Evan quickly beside us doing the same. It was awful.
She has grieved. She felt dizzy going up the stairs and seeing her empty closet (his room) and smelling his hay, his smell. She woke up crying the next morning, woke Shaun and me up with sobs that shook our bed. I have cried and cried. I am crying typing this sentence. I never imagined a bunny could cause such grief in a home. I never imagined how attached she would get so quickly. It all feels like I played a cruel joke on her.
We told her we would get her another. She said she wanted one but would never leave it and the more we talked about it, the more we decided another bunny might not be the best move. Maybe it should've been our move, I don't know. I just didn't think we could all go through that again a second time. So with prodding from my mother and grandmother (yes ladies, I would've never considered it had you not suggested it,) we found ourselves at an animal shelter yesterday afternoon with this homely creature:
We had already walked past all the dogs and not seen a keeper. We asked a girl who worked there if there were any sweet, medium-sized dogs. While he is more of a small black deer than a dog, she brought this guy into a room to play. He seemed too depressed to play and crawled into her lap.
She wanted to take him home because she felt sorry for him and because she felt sorry for herself. She wanted so desperately to mend her broken heart and this skeleton of a dog seemed to offer some sort of solution in her eyes.
Despite the fact that I was to take a dear church family dinner that night, we sat and waited an hour or so to get him. We paid 115 dollars for an 8 year old mutt that might have cataracts. Yes. You read that right. Here is his card:
Meanwhile, Uncle John was texting me that he was bringing us a rabbit. Shaun's mom was begging Madalyn to come play in the snow in St. Louis to lift her spirits, Uncle Brendan was offering to babysit while we go on a cruise because he knew Shaun and I had had a rough go... Honey and Nana were beside themselves with worry and ideas to try to help, offers to do anything at all from take her to a movie to look for a free dog for her...
I tried to ask her to wait a day. I knew we were both emotionally exhausted but she looked like she might have a total meltdown, and his card said sweet, sweet, sweet all over... and I had prayed going in that God would guide our steps... and the girl who helped us had been so sweet... so a few hours later we were driving home with a deer in our car that may need a tooth extracted (which they can do upon a follow-up visit.)
I'm sitting here, still not sure how this all happened. I'm in shock. We had a precious, fluffy bunny and a fat and fluffy Golden Retriever and all was right in the world and now we have two dogs and a still heartbroken little girl.
I love dogs. I always wanted to get another Golden Retriever one day. Or a fluffy medium sized dog for her to snuggle.
I never imagined our next dog would be the Simpsons' dog, Santa's Little Helper.
No, that's not true. Santa's Little Helper is actually a lot fatter than our dog.
We walked in the door and Shaun looked at me like I'd lost my ever-lovin' mind. Which is fitting because I had. Long before I ever walked in the shelter. I was NOT the person to take her. I am, after all, the person who thought a bunny would be a great Christmas gift.
She happily brought him with me to deliver the food, we went by Pet Smart and had his nails clipped and bought him a collar, size "extra small." He tried to jump over the counter to her when they took him to cut his nails and they all commented how sweet it was he had already bonded with her. He slept in the car as we drove. In her lap. It all seemed to be working out.
Then at bedtime, she freaked out. We bathed him and he was shaking like a leaf which was bound to happen as he's skin and bones. Charlie doesn't shake. It freaked her out. I told her most dogs do this... my mom's dog does this... she just started to feel like it was all too weird and unfamiliar and her bunny's room was still looming, reminding her George was no more.
I still can't believe we have a dog because a bunny that we had for four days died. I can't believe we have a dog because she felt sorry for him, not because she is in love with him. Although she is telling us all (and perhaps herself,) "I really love him."
And he certainly is sweet in a likely-once-abused sort of way. :(
I'm not really sure how to end this post: "We'll see what tomorrow holds?" Maybe the best way is to remember something my mother-in-law said to her, who is a foster mom. "Whenever I lose someone I love it helps me feel better to try to help someone else in need." While I'm not as noble-minded as her grandmother, I think Madalyn just might be. After all she told her friend at church today "I think the reason all of this happened is because God knew that dog really needed to leave the dog dungeon he was in."
She's also told me "Some people get really mad and bitter when they are hurt. I don't want to be like that. I know Jesus loves me more than ever." She has said she will understand other people's pain better and that she's thankful all she's had to grieve is a bunny as her AHG friend grieves her mother. She's understood in a new way the power of what was accomplished on the cross for those who grieve.
God is growing her. He's also growing me. This job I'm doing here at home that can seem simple and mundane is really very profound. I am teaching children to grieve in a healthy way. I am training children for battle against the lies that life is meaningless. Some lessons have to come outside of the classroom. It's humbling and frightening to realize all the lessons my children have ahead of them.
Through this experience I have been just enough frightened to awaken from the slumber of my routine to see my utter dependency on Him, the One who let it happen, the Perfect Parent who is not afraid to break her heart, to prune her and grow her in a way I am not brave enough to allow.
Because I am glad He had done this with my heart, I can trust Him with hers.
