Very early the next morning Al left for a 24 hour shift. I remember him leaving and thinking I should get up then and feed Stuart, but Amelia had me up half the night and I was SO tired. So, I put it off. About an hour later Amelia woke again, it was about 5am. Stuart wasn't squeaking for me and it had been over 3 hours since his last feeding. I unfolded his little blanket and couldn't find him anywhere. I ruffled through and through his coffee can frantically and he was no where. Now keep in mind he cant even crawl yet. I pull out the tiny baby bottle I weaned him onto yesterday. Its about 4" tall and the opening is a little bigger than the tip of a Qtip. He is too little to use the nipple, so I just rest his paint brush in there. I put it in with him last night so the milk would keep warm on the heating pad and he could smell something familiar in this new place. So, I pull out the bottle and I see something inside. Could it possibly be Stuart? How in the world? I gently tip over the bottle and drain it of milk and I see him. He IS in there and he is alive. I start yelling "STUART" "STUART" like he's going to respond "MOM" and jump through the hole. I try to shake him out but his body is just too big, I fumble through my overnight bag to find my tweezers. I find them and attempt to pull his tail.
Im clumsy with the tweezers though and my hands are shaky. Keep in mind, Im a past Vet Tech. I could draw blood from a stone, place an IV line, Arterial catheter, suture...all in the most demanding situations. But I just cant seem to get this little mouse tail. I finally get it but he wont budge. I position both his back legs and tail out the opening. He fights against me. I pull and pull and wiggle him out carefully, so as not to spinally dislocate him. I pull SO hard and he finally pops out. I kiss him and hold him, but he is limp now. I do a few chest pumps with him in between my fingers, to no avail. He takes his last breath and as he does, he takes his furry little mousy paw and punches me right in the heart. Just then, my daughter wakes up and I have to break the news to her that her pet is gone and Im a complete failure. We are heart broken. I start to get another 'anxiety attack'. My chest seizes up and all my muscles quiver. I am numb.
We make the best of the day. My Sister In Law came up and we took the kids on all kinds of adventure. I had the overwhelming burden of life being so so fragile and did the best I could to let the kids have fun while trying to prevent them from choking, falling down man hole covers, getting slivers, cuts from running in the grass, etc... We spent the afternoon playing and running around in the sunken gardens and lawn of one of the nearby mansions. This was the last time I was able to run and play with the kids.
The evening brought its own set of challenges. Al was away at work. We fed the kids and settled them as best we could with a movie. I was able to occupy my mind all day, but now it started to drift. Our nighttime routine is different tonight as I cant tuck Stuart in. My daughter is distraught, and so am I. I am alone here, with the kids, having just a bad bad feeling. I feel like if Stuart slipped away so easy, anything can. I then realized that one of the problems with having 3 kids is that I only have 2 arms to wrap around them. I put my head by my oldest daughters chest and one hand on each of the little ones chests. That way I could make sure they were safe and breathing all night. A thought then struck me. What if this feeling of "something bad" wasn't that I was going to lose one of the kids. WHAT IF IT WAS ME? I could not imagine my children having to grow up without me. My numbness and tingling got worse, my chest was so tight I didn't know how my heart could even beat. I blamed Stuart. He broke my heart. I missed him so much. How could he crawl up that bottle, or even fit in that hole? Was he curious? Hungry? Or, just possibly did he sense what was about to come and "jumped ship"?
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