The weeks when I am the most broken are the weeks when these dogs spend the most time letting me know I am loved.
It has been the kind of week when the griefs sets in. Nobody told me that when you lose a baby, your body takes weeks to accept it, clinging to the hormones like it clings to the grief. I have spent years looking at cheap pregnancy test strips, wishing for a second pink line. Now all I see is pink, and I want white. I never, ever thought I would be in a place like this.
And so it is a week in which the faithfulness of a dog means so much.
The mornings have been hard, because I am so much sleepier now that I’m not pregnant. Most women are exhausted while pregnant, but the hormones were wonderful to me and made me feel energized. I woke up before my alarm each morning and pulled Gracie close, snuggling with her until we had to get up.
I can’t do that anymore, and I’m back to being jarred awake by my alarm at 5:45. But after I groggily get up and stumble to make coffee and get settled on the couch for my Jesus time, Gracie snuggles in on the couch cushion behind me.
Or she lets me pull her close while I read, snuggling under the blankets on my lap and resting her head against my fuzzy red robe.
I love how they love me, and I’m so thankful for these sweet creatures. Every day is a good day for them, as long as I am in it. And that sweet, innocent faithful love makes everything better.