We lost all three puppies.
Another one had a seizure this morning and the third one died this afternoon. N picked a flower for each of them and tenderly laid it beside them. All of the kids said goodbye again, but there was not the same devastation. We knew these were on the horizon. Advanced notice can make all of the difference.
The mommy dog is wandering around sniffing and crying, trying to figure out why she has milk and no babies to feed.
L is surprisingly calm, as we knew after the first one went that it was likely they were all premature. And none of them really had a great sucking reflex, so they just couldn’t take in enough food. So instead of me comforting L, she ended up hugging me. And I think it freaked her out just a little to see me crying over the puppies.
Why, when I knew we were going to lose them all, do I feel like I should have done “more” to save them?
It’s not at all rational, and the feeling didn’t linger, but my initial reaction was to feel like I was a failure because I couldn’t save three premie pups.
Compound that with only getting 12-ish hours of sleep in the last 3 nights, and it quickly becomes clear that I need to go to bed now. Thank goodness sleep is a curative for these minor life bumps.