Only 9-days to the birth of Winnie’s babies. This is her second time around and she seems more in-tuned with her big womb then I am. I feel a bit helpless to tell you the truth. I see her belly growing daily, I see the escalation of the babies kicking her ruthlessly all night, she can’t hold her bladder for more than an hour at a time, and she throws up all the good rich nutritional food that we are slaving away to make every day. She can’t get comfortable, and tosses and turns constantly, the holes in my yard are beyond fillable and often I can’t get her out from under the dark deck. It terrifies me that she will sense my anxiety and try to give birth under that dank dark front deck! I rub her belly to relax her, and groom her daily, she looks like a mess, she is too big to get into the car, and she steps on her boobs when she walks. Let me repeat that, she STEPS on her boobs when she walks. Poor baby. He tutu is too tight and the crown on her head is slipping with her crankiness and bad humor with the other kids. Poor Harley is almost living next door because Winnie gives him the evil eye whenever he is around; like it’s HIS FAULT that she is in this position. Leonardo, the father, is nowhere to be found around the house. He is spending his summer on the farm in the sun next to a pool, with Gretchen in Bellingham. BOYS!!!!! Yes, I recognize that I am speaking of a dog, not a human, but she is my little baby and she is having, as close as I will ever get, my grandchildren.
AHHHH, the joy of holding those sweet little warm bodies close to my heart, the smell of milk on their breath, the bliss I will get from all the snuggling of those hefty bodies and the complete envy I will be of all the other little ole ladies when at 8 weeks I get to send those little fur babies to their forever homes to be potty trained by their new Moms and Dads. I am in utter anxiety and utter happiness that it's only 9 more days.