The Little Birdie

We are trying to sell our house right now, so when we have visits, I have to pack up my baby and my dog and find something to do outside of the house. Sometimes we go to the marina and look at the ducks and swing on the swings. Sometimes we go for a drive so my baby can sleep. Today's visit was between 11 am - 1 pm, and we went to my friend's house who lives just a few minutes away. I grabbed some takeout for myself on the way, and when we arrived at my friend's, I brought the dog to the back of her house so he could play outside. Then I let out my friend's dog to play with him. My baby and I had a nice time inside... we had lunch, played and looked at the cat.

As I was getting all my stuff together to leave, and doing multiple trips back and forth between the house and the truck, I noticed something on the ground along the cedars beside my friend's driveway. So I walked over, and there was a little bird there. Not super new, but not very old either. It had the starts of real feathers, but couldn't hold its wings out or its head up, and I could see it was struggling to breathe.

My friend doesn't have a landline, and I don't have a cell phone, so I went over to my friend's neighbour's to see if she knew who we could call to help out the little bird. Maybe 3-1-1 (the city) or the SPCA were my thoughts. She said she'd come over and see the bird, so she came over and thought that there was really nothing that could be done for the bird. She said she'd get a bag to pick up the bird to dispose of it. So while she went back to her place, I started to get a little emotional. When she returned, we talked a bit more about this little bird and exhausted any options we could think of to help it.

She picked up the little bird with a paper towel and turned it over (it had been face down) and it opened up its big beak because it was hungry. At this point, I started bawling my eyes out... huge huge tears, because I know the little guy was just starving and its momma must have gone out to get food and the bird got tossed out of the tree by the wind and the momma must have come back to the nest with one less little birdie in there. I told the neighbour that I know it's just a bird, but it's someone's baby. And she agreed with me, although she must have thought I was nuts.

We were able to find what may have been the bird's nest, but were unable to return the bird to it. The neighbour took the bird away so my dog and my friend's dog wouldn't get to it. And this little bird and its momma have been on my mind since. I wish there is something we could have done. Poor little birdie. Poor momma.

Just me,

Porscha

Kayleigh Anne Freeman 06/23/08 - 05/11/09

Kayleigh's story is one that has touched me like no other. It has certainly made me think about and question my non-existing relationship with the God I don't actually believe in. Nonetheless, I have smiled and cried with the Freemans as they prepared for Kayleigh's arrival home, only to have to watch her leave and go to her eternal home in heaven.

Sunday was the memorial for Kayleigh, and her family released pink balloons in her honour with the following message:

It was actually supposed to read "Our One Pound Miracle from God", but I had forgotten the scrap piece of paper where I had written down what I was supposed to write at home, and wrote this particular tag from memory. If that made any sense.

Savannah and I went and released a balloon from Champlain Lookout in the Gatineau Park - certainly the closest place to heaven in our neck of the woods. I smiled as our balloon fought with the wind and tried with all its might to leave for the skies, and shed a tear as it soared up to the heavens. What an amazing thing, for sure!

I continue to think of dear Adam and Aimee and their children Allyson and Braydon, as well as sweet Kayleigh. I hope they continue to be strong as they adjust to their new 'normal' without sweet Kayleigh in their arms.

Just me,

Porscha

Out of Control

I feel like everything in my life is out of control right now. Like I am not making any decisions, and everything that is happening to me is because it is expected of me. Like my husband expecting me to go to our camp next weekend. Even though I told him I am not interested in going, and that I am absolutely okay with him going on his own. There are just too many black flies out, and while I could maybe tolerate them, I don't want to soak my daughter in bug juice so that she can go, too. Like having to go back to work in September, even though I want to stay home with my daughter. And like having to put her into a daycare so I can go back to work. I am terrified of not being there for her. Of missing things. Of her being harmed by her daycare provider. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her. I don't think I can emotionally go back to work. I think it will make me physically ill. And I feel like my husband cares more about money than my emotional and physical well-being.

Just me,

Porscha