I Hate Your Dad's Dog.

Dear Baby,

We are going to go out of our way to teach you how to love every living thing around you and “hate” is not a word we will easily be throwing around the Desmarais house hold. BUT, as you will learn as you get older I HATE your father’s dog. And when I say hate I mean I loath this animal.

How we acquired this dog I think is the major fault on how I ended up so miserable over it. I have had my dog for three years before I met your father. I love my dog, he is human stuck in a dog’s body. Seriously he creeps people out with the expressions he can make to people. Your dad decided he was tired of having it be me and my dog against him and started searching for his special someone who can love like only a dog can. He jumped on the internet and within a couple short days had found a picture of “Wilbert” on pet finder. He told me “this is my dog”. Now one thing you’ll learn about your father is he’s romantic at heart who is EASILY excited over things and known to jump in without really thinking things through or proper research. This has happened with him with multiple cars, tattoos, and on this case his dog.

So he went and picked the dog up. From day one the dog was a terror. He was scared of EVERYONE, he trashed the house, and NO cage could contain this animal. He would chew out of metal cages. THROUGH METAL CAGES. Granted he did mature a bit over the years gaining better house manners and becoming less scared by people, he still had it in for me. I truly think from day one when that animal realized I was the alpha in the house, he decided to try and break down my control. He has eaten ONLY my things, pooped under the covers (on my side of the bed) in the middle of the night, and has peed ON MY FACE! As in, in the middle of the night lifted his leg and PEED. ON. MY. DAMN. FACE. Over the years there has been so many times I have lost it on this animal and been ready to find it a new home only for your dad to give me the puppy eyes and convince me he can’t live without this him.

This April the dog did something I will never be able to get over. You will learn baby girl your Momma has a tendency to have the strangest things happen to her. Your Dad says it’s just an energy around me and one of the reason’s he fell in love with me. In his words I’m “exceptional” (odd) in so many ways. Which in turn produces some crazy stories like this one. While we laugh with friends about this today it was actually really horrible going through it at the time.

Let me start from the beginning. Some people eat their placentas. This was an odd concept to me when I had first heard about it form our Douala but after much research it started to make sense. Your placenta produces most of your hormones when you’re pregnant so after you give birth if your other glands don’t pick up in time it can lead to postpartum depression and other hormone related issues. If you eat the placenta it’s like perfect hormone pills made for and by your body to jump start all those systems that were on vacation during the pregnancy. Some people take a piece and make a smoothie, some make a stew, it really is personal preference. Since our family has a history of depression I decided this was something smart for me to do. But, not wanting a bloody smoothie or a “cannibal stew” I opted for the help with my Douala to dehydrate my placenta and capsulize it into pill form. And we did just that. Right after you were born in the oven went the placenta. My Doula took care of everything for me so I can’t really tell you about the actual preparation.

I felt really good after giving birth like REALLY good. I really think doing it at home with no drugs or medical intervention let me have the after birth high to it’s fullest. I was on cloud nine for a full week! After the first week I decided since I could feel myself slowing down to start taking the pills to prevent any problems. I took it twice and I swear I could feel the difference. I would take them with dinner right before bed. One night we did just that and I left the Tupperware holding my prized pills on the table over night. Fast forward to the next morning. I’m in bed and the hubs gets up to make some food. I hear some ruckus in the living room be think nothing of it. A few moments later your Dad comes into the bedroom with the worst look on his face and tears in his eyes. I asked him whats wrong but he couldn’t get the words out. I had to ask five more times before he could muster up the heart to tell me Wilbert had broken out of his cage in the middle of the night had eaten my pills. Correction WILBERT HAD EATEN MY PLACENTA. I can not express in words the pain that flowed over me at that moment. The feeling of loss, regret and terror. I know many woman who have hospital births don’t even see their placentas let alone have them turned into medicine, so it maybe hard for some to relate. But, because I had mine, they had a purpose, it was MY BODY in those pills, I felt like someone has stolen a piece of me, ripped it out and stole it. Those first moments all I could say was “but those were MINE” through my tears as Mark held me. I called my Doula for a emergency visit being this was the first time I felt over whelmed since the birth and needed her. She came over consoled me and let me cry it out on her shoulder. I mean most of my friends don’t have kids yet and if I called them crying over my eaten placenta they would have thought I lost it. But, my Douala understood and even offered to help get me more pills but the thought of eating someone else placenta was too much for me so I passed on it. I cried for days over this (tearing up now actually) and the dog got kicked out of the house. Now I know some of you animal lovers are like “seriously he’s an animal who doesn’t know any better.” But it hurt so bad having that taken from me and the fear of postpartum depression with my family history was so large I couldn’t even look at the dog without breaking down into big whimpering sobs. That was my body that was the one thing I shared with my baby to bring her in this world and he had taken that from me. It was the worst heart break I have ever felt, like someone had died.

Thank god even through all that trauma I didn’t come down with the baby blues. And yes the dog after a couple months was brought back in the house with new EXTREME rules and a new cage that resembles Fort Knox, only because I love your father though. So yes I hate your father’s dog and this is why.

We laugh over this crazy story now and your Dad claims it’s stories like this that make me an interesting human (maybe someday I’ll write about the one where I roller skated with David Bowie) but seriously baby G get to know an animal before you bring it home. Enough Said.