Wednesday, February 04, 2004

A taste of Motherhood.

A Monday to remember.

Faith’s animal rescue story reminded me of mine. It may not interest you folks out there but I don’t really write everything in here for you. I write a whole lot of detailed stuff for me, so when I read this again somewhere in the future I’ll remember.

Since I haven’t written this one down, I thought I should. This was a while ago, and my memory is fuzzy, so I may have gotten a lot of the details mixed up. I do apologize. This is as accurate as I can make it.

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It was my last week in Hawaii. June 23rd, 2003 – Monday. At that time, Mark had just moved off campus to Mililani about 45 mins away (correct me if I’m wrong – I remember everything as 45 mins away) from Laie, where I lived on campus so we were spending less time together (although I was working 8-5 anyway) and I was missing him terribly.

We had decided to read our scriptures together for the first time that night. So we sat down on one of the benches in the courtyard between the Hales (our dormitories are called “Hah-lays” – Hawaiian for home) a common make out spot for lovers (not excluding myself) and there was this desperate mewing going on.

I, of course, insisted that we find out where the sound was coming from. Mark helped me search the area and we found this tiny little black kitten mewing its guts out.

I picked her up (I wasn’t sure whether it was male or female then. I call all animals and babies “her” until I’m absolutely sure) and held her. She was so tiny, I could hold her with one hand and just her head would stick out (I’m a girl – and Asian – I have small hands). Her eyes were still closed and she just kept crying. I felt so helpless it was frustrating.

Just earlier that day, there was a dead cat on the road - a black one. I had thought that it was Snowball II, the cat Jared and I had made friends with (he loves the Simpsons). Our cat. She sure hadn’t been pregnant. It must have been the other black cat.

I was relieved that it wasn’t Snowball, yet, that meant that we had an orphan kitty to deal with.

Still, I wasn’t sure about that. Mark talked me into putting her back and letting her mommy find her. We tried to get back to reading. But if mosquitoes can distract me from making out – yeah…

I picked her up and put her back a few times – wondering if anyone who had walked by would react the same way but know what to do instead.

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I absolutely love animals. We have 2 dogs, 3 bunnies, 7 tortoises, 2 turtles, 9 fish – but no cats. Mom for some reason has disliked them all her life. She thinks they are unintelligent (or maybe it’s their “lack of loyalty” that bugs her) and anyway Han is allergic.

Mom’s dislike for cats kind of rubbed off on me. I always thought I was more of a dog person until the one time I brought a kitten (one much older) home. We were both drenched because it was raining and she was following me. (Cat’s AND dogs have often followed me home. Like kids, they seem to be attracted to me – I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you. Now if I can only add guys to that list…) In fact, “Kitty” (yeah, I know original) was black. I’ve had a couple more experiences with black cats – mom says that I must be jinxed in a bad way. Surprise, surprise. I had to take Kitty to the pound not long after, but not before falling in love with her. Oh well, my dogs would’ve eaten her alive if she had stayed.

And of course, there was Jared the avid cat lover who rubbed off on me BIG time. But still, that doesn’t mean that I know SQUAT about cats.

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Oh, ok. Back to THIS rescue story.

After some time, I decided that if someone was going to do anything, it would be us. One problem: I still had no clue what to do. I had no idea where the pound was on our island. If there WAS one, it would be at least 45 mins away and anyway, it was already dark. They would be closed. I didn’t know anyone with cats. We were staring at a dead end.

I called up Jared who was home in Arizona at the time (he has quite a few cats at home) to give me SOME idea of what to do next. Mark also said something about knowing someone who did animal rescue and pitched in with some ideas.

Next thing I knew, Mark was driving us to Foodland to get some sort of nozzle – like for eye drops or something – and some soymilk. The entire time I was praying for some miracle to happen so everything would turn out ok.

We weren’t sure if it was ok to bring the kitty into the store so we found a corner to leave her where we thought she’d be safe. We found the soymilk and the nozzle – dispensing something we weren’t even sure would be safe for the kitty after emptying it.

When we got out, NO KITTY! Mark must have been relieved. The poor guy was so supportive throughout but he must have had been ready for it to be all over and maybe get my attention again.

I, miss possessive, basically panicked. Some guys noticed and told us a lady in a green sweater took the kitty and went into the store. We found her (it was actually just a green blouse) after searching a couple of aisles.

She was holding the cat in such a nice way, I was relieved; at the same time, in true Faye style, extremely jealous. I told you I was possessive.

We approached her and asked if she intended to keep the kitten and thought that we could pass the stuff we just bought over to her. She was even MORE relieved to see us. It turns out, SHE was an animal rescuer who knew exactly what to do. (Mirace #1!!!) One problem – she was a tourist and only going to be there for a couple more days.

She told us that we should get skim milk instead of soymilk and ran off the get us that and a better nozzle (the thing you use to suck snot out of infants’ noses) plus some baby food. She said that the best thing we could do was to find her cat that was nursing and just let her adopt the kitten. Or else, warm the skim milk, keep her warm, and transition her to baby food before solids in a few weeks (I don’t remember how many).

She insisted on paying for all the stuff. I don’t remember. I might not have let her. I know I should’ve.

When she finally handed the poor little kitten back to me, she had this look on her face I could never forget. When she finally managed to turn around and leave, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was officially responsible for a life, my very first time.

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Mark and I took the kitten back to the Hale where we heated the milk in the microwave and after a few tries of mixing cold milk into the overheated liquid, we got it to be reasonably warm.

It was a heart-wrenching task to get the kitten to drink. You know what they say about leading a horse to water. I wrapped my fingers around her to keep her warm and rubbed the tip of the nozzle on her face, trying to get her to open her mouth and struggling to keep from choking her with too much milk.

She had the pinkest tongue. She preferred sucking on our fingers. She must’ve been so hungry.

We were trying to decide on a name for her. Since we weren’t sure whether she was really a she, we had to go for something unisex. Mark suggested we name her Monday. I liked that. (Ever watched the Math Detectives in Square One?) So Monday it was.

And there I was, feeding this tiny life in my hands. Trying to stop her from crying. And there was Mark sitting right there beside me.

For a moment, it sure felt like a family.

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After much persuasion, I finally got Mark to hold her and feed her. She looked so fragile and helpless in his hands. I think that was the moment I fell in love with him.

I don’t remember if I was crying then. But I sure am now.

He’s going to try so hard when he’s a dad. He’ll make a great one. Terrified, but a great one. I can just see him holding his new-born baby in his arms. (That was supposed to be our baby) How proud he would look. And how he would be afraid of her breaking while he held her.

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Our little Monday would fall asleep, wake up crying, then after getting some more milk, fall asleep again. I found a small box, packed all kinds towels and maybe even a knitted potholder I had to keep her warm.

I don’t really remember how much longer I stayed out. Mark was just always there. Not one word of protest. I think I brought the box with me into the car while we sat there to be with each other. (They must’ve closed the lounge) But I kept worrying and checking the box to see if Monday was ok.

Eventually, after deciding that I was too distracted to be much company for the night, we kissed goodnight. I let him go home and I, the new mother, went home with my baby.

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That was a night I will never forget. I didn’t sleep much. Monday woke up every 2 hours or so crying. She would rub her padded paws up against me, sucking on my t-shirt like I was her mommy. I barely slept all night. But it was the most wonderful night of my life.

I thought, I’m so ready for this. I could be a mother today. This is what I want to do.

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Tuesday came as much as I didn’t want it to. I had to leave by Saturday. Monday wasn’t mine to keep. I didn’t know what I would do. But I knew I had to give my baby up.

I brought Monday to work with me the next day – along with the bottle of heated skim milk. Dawn my supervisor was cool about it.

It turned out that Abby, one of my co-workers had a black cat with much older kittens who were still nursing. Wow. Ok. Miracle #2!

Why didn’t I feel the least bit happy?

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It bugged me that Abby didn’t like cats. She called my baby the Rat because she was small, black and had a long tail. But she assured me that her cat-lover sisters would take great care of Monday. What else could I do but believe her?

We had it arranged for me to pass the cat to her younger sisters who were in the pool taking their swimming lessons while we were at work.

So I left Monday with them. Just like that. Goodness knows how I managed to pull it off. It was done in such a hurry. I didn’t have time to psych myself up enough; to prepare myself. But no amount of time given me would have been enough. I would never have been ready.

Right then, right there, I knew how the lady in the green sweater had felt.

The thought had also crossed my mind that it was a good thing I had never gotten pregnant before because it would kill me to have to give up a child of my own.

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I got to see Monday in her new home the next day. Still alive and breathing. The Logans named him (HIM?) “Li’i” boy” I think it means “tiny”.

Mark checked up on him a few months later when I was back here. The mother cat wouldn’t let him nurse from her so they ended up buying formula for him. But the important thing was that he was alive and well.

I had to learn to stop worrying about something I no longer had any control over.

I did my part; I kept her alive for one more night. I was lucky that I got to be the one to feed her and keep her warm.

So this world has one more live cat. (Don’t they have 9 lives anyway?) Not a big deal in the scheme of things. Or so it seems.

I don’t think I saved that that kitten for him. That experience was meant for me: to give me a taste of what I look forward to so much: motherhood.

I still don’t know if that will ever happen. I plan on it. But this time, I’m planning doing a lot more than keeping them alive for one night.

In the meantime, my dream of fostering children into my family still stands.

And I – I will never forget the Monday that touched my life. For good.