life update

This New Years we spent a cozy night with our little family and rang in our next chapter with much hope for the near future. We are four and a half to five months away from the arrival of our sweet baby, a gift we look forward to after the survival of 2024. Allow me to fill you in on the previous year. 

Last May was a hurricane of emotion and grief.

Our oldest daughter had to say goodbye to her beloved cat, Pippin. Anyone who knows us in person, knows that Pippin and Jemma, our daughter, were bonded beyond imagination. He was and is still what we considered her soul cat. They would spend endless hours together, he would sit at the table while she did school, watch her read or play in their free time, patiently wait for her to settle so he could insert himself into her arms. He wanted nothing more than to be with her or near her at all times.

It was an unspoken bond, a deep understanding between the two that they were meant to experience this life together. 
Pippin was unfortunately diagnosed with FIP too late, the symptoms began around 7 months old and it wasn't until multiple vet visits, bills racking up, that we received a proper diagnosis far too late. May 23rd, just two months after his first birthday, we had to say goodbye as he crossed the rainbow bridge. I've debated sharing the letter I wrote to her as she navigated a grief no parent wishes for their child to experience. Sharing the letter with the vulnerability and perhaps hope that it could help some of you readers explain to your own child if they too have lost a beloved pet. 

May was by far a month of grief, a long hall leading to the following weeks that would usher us into a summer of disconnect. June 9th 2024 I had a miscarriage, not even two weeks post my loss I found myself in this weird place where I wasn't done grieving but the world seemed to be ushering me or rather rushing me, to go back to performing, to get back to the grind, to go back to being of service. I remember one evening, around three weeks post miscarriage, I had 19 missed texts from different people all asking/needed something from me. I remember crying in my room, my oldest came in to hug me. She said “it hurts to lose someone we love” while she didn't know the hurt of losing a baby, she did know the hurt of losing “her baby” Pippin and now losing who would have been her sibling. We laid in our grief that night under a heated blanket as if the warmth would somehow hush the pain… we looked at each other, a silent nod, a quiet understanding and uncomfortable handshake with death.

I felt pressured to “get over it”. I still look back at last summer with disconnection. I have photos of my family, a few photos of myself from the end of July and August, forced smiles… little to no memory, it was like looking back at someone else’s life. Fall and winter soon arrived, I became a bit of a recluse and decided it was okay for me to no longer be the person who carries and serves everyone else. It was MY time to heal, to acknowledge my hurt and to find what made me feel rooted… to find what little joys in life made me feel alive again. September arrived with the news of our new baby.

Throughout the winter I did experience a new level of anxiety. Every time I went to the bathroom I checked for bleeding, every morning I did worry over potential loss again. It wasn't until this month, January 2025, after the anatomy scan that my nerves started to settle. Jemma also adopted a new kitten and she loves her very much. Her name is Sparrow Birdie McCandless. She’s a laid back but quirky tuxedo kitten. Who, oddly like Pip, likes to sit and watch Jemma read. I haven't shared this much over fear of hasty judgement. But Jemma was not doing well emotionally, there was a good couple months of food strike, endless nights of tears and night terrors, our girl was slowly becoming a stranger… no longer joyful and getting through her day as this version of herself that just awaited evening to cry and grieve and eventually fall asleep in our bed. Sparrow by all means was and is NOT a replacement, but truly a hope for rebalance. In many ways she is a form of therapy and emotional support for Jemma. Sometimes we need a little help to guide or hold us through our grief.

Now we are caught up to this moment. Jemma holds her sweet Sparrow near me as I write this lengthy update. I feel the rumble and kicking of our sweet baby, whose heartbeat is strong and after a healthy and happy anatomy scan update, we can officially say we are excited to welcome another baby girl this June. 2025 as of right now has been full of joy and much welcomed reset, full of reflection, positive change, connection and creativity. I can’t wait to share what pockets of joy we have already experienced and hopefully continue to find.