You are not alone

When we left the hospital, I was dead inside. It had been the longest two days of my life. Two days prior, I was ecstatic, heading to my ultrasound for our baby’s first unborn pictures. Instead, I found out my life was in danger from an ectopic pregnancy and emergency surgery was planned.

It was a whirlwind I was caught up in. There wasn’t any time to really think. I was making fast decisions that I really didn’t have the chance to think through. The surgery didn’t go as planned; there were complications. I was in the hospital for two days and in more pain than I ever knew possible. And then suddenly it was time to go home.

Emotionally I just felt dead inside. There was no life left in me. I couldn’t fathom how I would survive the pain. I was scared. Gunner, my beautiful lab was waiting at home for me. I knew he’d be excited to see me, especially since we had never been apart for a night until that day. He was full of life, and easily excited. He loved to play and would jump on anyone that came through the front door. I was so nervous to come home, having just had major surgery, all I could think about was how to not let him jump on me.

He shocked me that day. He didn’t even try to jump on me. When we first saw each other, he seemed to have a look of concern on his sweet face. I’m not sure why, but it surprised me. He had always been a sweet boy, hyper but sweet. He gently sat beside me on the couch and kissed my face.

The next few weeks were hard. I think I was numb for a while. Dealing with the physical pain was easier than the emotional pain. Somehow Gunner knew I was hurting, both emotionally and physically. He was cues from me. When I rested, so did he, right beside me. He didn’t leave my side for weeks. I would often wake to his nose on my cheek, checking on me. He would watch me constantly.

Finally, a few weeks later, the emotional floodgates were opened. The reality of all I had lost, all I had been through became very real. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t want anyone to see me break down. I felt I had to be strong. I’m not sure if I thought it was expected of me, or if I just needed to grieve in private. But Gunner wasn’t going to let me go through it alone.

The first time I cried, we were alone in the house, and he was sitting next to me as always. I just sobbed. I could feel my heart breaking inside my chest. And there was Gunner, looking at me with his all-knowing eyes, full of compassion. He positioned himself on my lap, oddly in a way that didn’t hurt me at all physically. He leaned in and rested his head against my chest. As I cried he nuzzled closer, nudging me to pet his head and I grieved a deep loss. I was in deep anguish, but never alone.

I began talking to him during these episodes of tears and grief, and he would just look up at me as if hanging on my every word. It is the most seen and known I’ve ever felt. Three years later, he still senses when I’m upset. He’s always right with me when I cry, consoling me. And even when there are no tears, if he thinks I’m upset or anxious in any way, he’s on my lap loving me through it.

During the darkest time in my life, Gunner showed me a kindness and compassion that was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. If dogs could be given awards for the courageous and extraordinary things they do, I think the highest honor would go to Gunner. I owe him more than I could ever say. He’s truly my best friend. And he’s proof that dogs can truly help their humans through even the most painful seasons. I’m forever grateful to have Gunner with me during that season, and even still.