The Cat in the.....Basement?

Over Thanksgiving weekend, my cat became a sprayer. 

I have had Rocky, my cat, for 5 years now...and he has never once done this disgusting act that is spraying.  At first, I punished him and threw his spraying behind in the basement, and then I realized later on that this cat may actually need medical attention.

So I take Rocky to the vet, and it turns out that he has kidney stones and his bladder wall is thickened and apparently the vet is worried about his urethra.  All of a sudden, I get a rush of deja vu....bladder....urethra...tubes...ultrasound...not including the kidney stones, these are all things that I heard about with Gabriel. 

So then the vet brings in an ultrasound of my cat's bladder, and it is engorged (as apparently the cat is having troubles peeing) and there are stones and I just think....can't I take someone or something to the doctor and not have to worry about a bladder problem?

Rocky is still alive though and living a life of seclusion in the basement until his medication kicks in. 

In other news, I am not pregnant.  I thought I could be over Thanksgiving, as I was so tired and moody and crampy and thought that maybe I could be...and Josh was actually convinced of it.  I told myself that I was going to wait til I was one week late to test, but I am impatient and I got excited and tested three days late and got a negative.  I was not discouraged though, because I was four days late before I got a positive with Gabriel.  But then, my period came and squashed all possibility. 

I knew I wouldn't handle this one well.  This was the first month of trying, and I was for sure it would happen quick.  I cried and cried yesterday.  I just want to be happy so bad, and although I am blessed in so many ways, those blessings don't make me as happy as I was when I was pregnant.   I want the happy so bad.  I ache for the happy.  I ache for a beautiful, healthy baby with my husband. 

On top of all this, I finally got a call from my crappy doctor's office, and apparently, my baby never got moved to Cincinatti Childrens Hospital for autopsy like they told me he was for the last 8 weeks.  Apparently, my son is still here in Toledo.  Again, I feel lied to by this office.  Why can't anyone ever give me consistent answers about my baby?  Josh and I don't even care about the autopsy anymore.  We just want him buried.  We want him to rest in peace.  We want to rest in peace knowing he is not floating in a jar of preservation fluid.  He is not tissue to examine.  He is my son, he had a body, and a face, and little sweet tiny hands that waved so much during my 2 ultrasounds....and I don't want him in that hospital anymore. 

Looking back on it....I wish we would have buried him ourselves.  I need somewhere to visit (besides the deep black hole I crawl into within myself.) I want to see his name.  No one ever mentions his name except for Josh and I. 

GABRIEL CHESTER KOSAKOWSKI.  Our son.