February, My Darkest Days

I made it to March, barely.

February 9 years ago was one of the most challenging months I had ever experienced. 

We had just adopted this beautiful pure bred English Black Lab named June Bug that we just adored. We had a friend refer us to this women in Massachusetts to adopt this dog and we were so grateful that they approved us to receive such a prestigious and well trained dog. 

My husband and I were over the moon. Here we had this mature, trained, loving, loyal sweet dog who was our whole world. She would follow us all around our home and spoon us every night with her sweet wet nose face to face with us each evening. 

On Saturday February 16th I woke up and decided to take her to my brothers house. My husband was working nights at the time so I wanted to let him sleep. I was eager to show her off and introduce her to my brothers dog and take a nice snowy walk in the woods. 

I got to their home and June Bug was lose outside playing with their dog. I went in to visit with them for a moment and I hear a siren and see flashing lights in the window. 

My brother quickly runs to the door and looks at me in a sight of horror. Fear takes over my body and all I can muster out is “No”. 

I walk outside and see a county sheriff car with its lights on and a lifeless June Bug laying in the road in front of the sheriffs car. 

I shrieked out her name, and began whimpering and hysterically crying. The female sheriff said something. Something like “Ma’am please go back inside” in hindsight I’m sure she was emotionally disturbed by all of it and seeing my hysterically crying was only making things harder for her. 

I never ran over to June Bug, I never touched her after that tragedy occurred. I ran back inside like an exhausted radical toddler does. Crying hysterically, pacing, totally out of control inside and out. I call my sleeping husband and with his answer on the phone cry out “June Bug is gone”. 

My brother covers her with a thick sheet and loads her lifeless body in the trunk of my car. I couldn’t even bring myself to drive. He drives my car while my very pregnant sister in law and her two boys pile up in her van to drive me back to our home, with my cherished, adored, prized dog…. Gone. 

The next day I became very sick. Unfortunately I had struggled with chronic Urinary Tract Infections so I knew the signs early on. I head down to the Urgent Care to do a urine test so I can get my antibiotics and be on my way. 

The doctor comes in and says, “Confirmed UTI and you’re pregnant.” I broke down crying. The doctor I’m sure was entirely concerned seeing a young woman who just received news she is pregnant, crying. The doctor asked “Do you have support at home?” I told her that I was happily married and we had been wanting a child, it wasn’t that, It was just that I had just dealt with a traumatic loss and I was a bit of an emotional mess. 

The next few months were especially difficult. My body was physically exhausted from creating a little human inside of me and the emotional load I was carrying was depleting the very little energy I had left. Depression took over, and took me to my darkest days. 

I told only a few souls about the loss of our June Bug. I was so devastated and embarrassed from it all. It was truly my first time experiencing the real raw pain of shame in my life. 

Each February since that experience I find myself in a deep depression through the month of February. 

I never made that connection until the last few years. 

My first few years I found myself fulling withdrawing from life. I would only leave the house for work and the highest priority matters. I dragged myself to do the most basic household chores and continue to tell my husband that “I’m just in a funk, winter blues are taking a toll on me.” Not truly understanding the heaviness of grief and muscle memory that followed me to the deepest parts of winter. 

But my February’s look a little different now.

Although I still feel sadness and grief tug at me from time to time. I meet myself with compassion. I say “no” to lots of things, not because I’m hiding from the world and don’t want to see people but because I’m taking care of myself as I would take care of a dear friend grieving and struggling. 

I give myself grace

Compassion

Love

Ice cream 

And lots of baths. 

I don’t criticize myself and tell myself I should be doing more, or force myself to get up and do something. 

I meet myself with love and compassion. We take it one day at a time in February, we sit on the couch a bit more. We get in bed early most nights and just let ourself feel all the real emotions. 

9 years ago I hid this story from the world, I have caused myself so much self harm and suffering because I didn’t want to feel something. 

Brene Browns words pulse through my mind, “When we find the courage to share our experiences and the compassion to hear others tell their stories, we force shame out of hiding, and end the silence.” 

As I continue to share my life experiences with all of you I find myself slowly healing. Thank you for being right along side with me through it all.