There’s nothing like being startled first thing on a lazy Sunday morning by your husband banging on the outside of the window. I was relieved to see he was in one piece and not bleeding, but then was equally startled to see bunnies hopping around every which way. Said husband, accidentally disturbed a nest. After rebuilding the nest, settling in three out of the five bunnies that couldn’t be out hopped, we anxiously awaited dusk and their mama to return. She came, but never entered the nest to feed them.
After a call to the bunny hotline [yes, they have such a thing], a sleepless night and a 6am nest check, these furry babies needed some attention in the form of food. We scooped them up, brought them in and nursed them with droppers of pedialyte – per the experts.
We are simply not people who in a situation like this, let Mother Nature take it’s course. And it’s in moments like these I am reminded that our souls are meant to for one another. But I digress.
This is when the the tale of three bunnies turned into planes, trains and automobiles. As luck would have it, the rehab lady was in town, next door to where I work!!!!! These little guys were packed back up with a hot water bottle in their box and went in the car, the bus, up 28 flights in the elevator and lived under my desk [and through the fire alarm going off – of all days] before we headed back down to meet the rehab lady in the building next door.
We even managed to charm three security guys and two state troopers [and by charm I mean I teared up, held them tight and wouldn’t let anyone touch my box of bunnies – yes we were a sight] into letting us into the building without them being sent through the X-Ray conveyor belt. All this only to find out the rehab lady, in preparing for her expo for the day, forgot the formula she promised to bring [insert the mother of all sighs].
My nerves, patience and strength were tested in many ways today, but it was probably nothing compared to what my furry babies – for a day – went through. I was determined to give them a fighting chance. And in case you are wondering, the rehab lady made an agreeable plan on how to care for them at which point I reluctantly let them go off into the world. Walking away, my heart broke and my inner five year old burst into tears. Let’s just say the security guys didn’t make eye contact after that.
Moral of the story? I promise there is one. When you moms out there talk about wearing your hearts on your sleeve or chest when you have a baby, I can now ever so slightly understand what this is like. It takes a brave, beautiful soul to lovingly raise a child.
A happy, albeit early, Mother’s Day to all you moms out there.