Scribed In Light

By Tina N. Campbell | Scribed in Light

There are days when life hands you, and then there are days when life hands you newborn dachshunds, an emergency C-section, a dog recovering from surgery, a husband making an hour-long midnight journey to the veterinarian, and the sudden realization that you’re now operating a neonatal puppy nursery out of your living room.

Welcome to my week…and it’s only Wednesday.

Let’s rewind.

Just three days ago, I was doing what I normally do. Juggling a household, caring for my family, managing our small zoo of animals, and working on publishing another book.

My biggest concerns involved book covers, manuscript formatting, and whether Amazon was going to print something resembling an actual book instead of a very expensive paperweight.

You know. Normal, everyday problems.

Meanwhile, our sweet miniature dachshund, Bella, was approaching her due date.

We’d been watching her closely and preparing for a C-section because her previous pregnancy had involved serious complications.

We were also expecting two puppies.

Two.

As in one, two.

A modest little family expansion. Or so we thought.

Apparently, Bella was keeping a few secrets.

Sometimes Grace Arrives Just Before Bedtime

It was late Tuesday evening, and our household was finally winding down. Alan and I were preparing for bed, and I was looking forward to the glorious possibility of placing my head on a pillow. If you’re a caregiver, parent, or someone whose household resembles a small agricultural community, you understand how sacred that moment can be.

But something wasn’t quite right with Bella. Her breathing was unusually rapid. She was restless, struggling to get comfortable, and occasionally letting out little groans.

Now, she was heavily pregnant, so some discomfort was expected. But this was different. Something told me to keep watching, and thank God I did. Because just as we were preparing to go to sleep, Bella began showing signs of active labor. Five days before her expected due date!

Alan immediately called the veterinarian. The instructions were clear. Get her here. Now.

Just like that, our bedtime plans were replaced by an emergency trip to a veterinary clinic one hour away.

I watched my husband take our frightened little girl to the truck. Her enormous eyes were filled with uncertainty, and the expression on her sweet face nearly broke my heart.

I couldn’t accompany them because I needed to remain home with our son, Austin. So I watched the truck disappear, entrusted my precious girl to my husband and the veterinary team, and prayed. Not some beautifully rehearsed, eloquent prayer. Just the kind that rises from your heart when the only words you can manage are, “Lord, please.”

Had we gone to bed a little earlier, Bella might have entered active labor while we slept. Considering her medical history, that possibility still gives me chills. But we were awake. We noticed something wasn’t right and we acted.

Sometimes God’s grace arrives in the most ordinary-looking moments.

Even a restless little dachshund just before bedtime.

And Then There Were FOUR

Remember those two puppies we were expecting?

Well.

SURPRISE!

Not two.

FOUR.

Four beautiful, impossibly tiny dachshund puppies with 16 teensy paws!

Apparently, Bella decided that if she was going to make one final entrance into motherhood, she might as well go out with a bang.

I can only imagine the veterinarian’s expression. “Sir, your dog appears to have brought guests.”

But the excitement quickly gave way to concern. Two of those precious babies were extremely weak and struggling. The veterinarian came out to tell Alan that the team was working diligently to help them.

Imagine that emotional whiplash.

One moment, you’re discovering twice the number of puppies you expected. The next, you’re wondering whether all four will survive. The miracle of life is extraordinary. But it is also astonishingly fragile.

Thankfully, all four babies came home with Bella.

Our sweet girl was also spayed during surgery, something we had already planned for her health. No more pregnancies. No more putting her little body through this. Praise God.

While I was enormously grateful to have everyone home, I was about to discover that our responsibilities hadn’t ended. They’d multiplied. Literally. By four.

Welcome to the Campbell Canine Maternity Ward

Apparently, welcoming four newborn puppies automatically qualifies you for several positions you never applied for.

• Head Nurse.
• Neonatal Caregiver.
• Lactation Consultant.
• Director of Waste Management.
• And Chief Inspector of Tiny Dachshund Rear Ends.

No interview.

No orientation.

No paid vacation.

And absolutely no benefits package.

Unless you count the occasional puppy squeak as a performance bonus.

Suddenly, I’m monitoring warmth, watching tiny chests rise and fall, preparing puppy milk replacer, and trying to determine who’s nursing, who’s hungry, who’s peeing, and whether anyone has pooped.

I’ve spent more time examining miniature dachshund bottoms in the past twenty-four hours than any reasonable human being should admit publicly. There is absolutely no dignity left in this household.

And Bella?

Oh, my sweet Bella. She’s hurting, exhausted, and recovering from major abdominal surgery while four demanding little creatures attempt to negotiate unlimited access to the milk bar. Except sometimes they don’t seem particularly interested in ordering, and Mama isn’t always feeling up to hosting. So we’re watching her closely, helping her recover, and making sure those little babies receive the care they need.

I’d give anything to explain to her that she’s safe, that her babies are here, and that she doesn’t have to figure everything out at once. But since dogs don’t speak English, I settle for gentle touches, soft words, and loving her through it.

The Moment My Heart Nearly Stopped

Just when I thought we’d made it through the scariest moments, another one arrived. I checked on the puppies and two so still. Too still.

For one absolutely dreadful moment, I thought we’d lost them. You know that feeling when your heart drops into your stomach before your brain has even had time to process what’s happening? That.

After some sugar water, extra focus and attention — and another feeding — all four became more active, and began making those precious little newborn noises. Then they promptly went back to sleep like nothing had happened. Apparently, these babies can sleep without remorse my friends.

Of course, I know unusual unresponsiveness in a newborn is serious, but that moment certainly reminded me how quickly concern can turn into absolute terror. Now I find myself checking their breathing, watching their movements, and conducting frequent head counts.

Four puppies.

Still four puppies.

Lord, please let there continue to be four puppies.

Meanwhile, I seem to have misplaced my sleep. Not a little sleep. ALL of it. My brain is currently functioning like an elderly desktop computer with 47 tabs open, three frozen programs, and a printer insisting it’s offline. Every time the babies settle down, I think, “Wonderful. Maybe I can finally rest.” Then my brain whispers: “But what if you check them just one more time?”

And there I go again.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I’m still a wife, a mother, a caregiver, an author, and the manager of what increasingly resembles an unpaid wildlife sanctuary.

Apparently, nobody has informed the rest of humanity that I’m currently on maternity leave. From a dog. Who isn’t technically my child. Yet, I beg to differ.

The Plans We Make and the Grace We Find

Isn’t it interesting how we go through life with all these preconceived notions of how things are supposed to unfold?

We plan our days, our weeks, and sometimes years of our lives, believing we have a reasonably good idea of what lies ahead. Then life throws us a curveball, and suddenly we’re all flying by the seat of our pants, wondering what happened to that perfectly good plan.

Bella wasn’t supposed to deliver for another five days. We expected two puppies, not four. We certainly weren’t prepared to hear that two of those precious little lives were struggling to survive. Yet, amid all those unexpected developments, we found our footing.

We stayed attentive. We made decisions. We sought help. And we kept moving forward…and through it all, I found solace in my faith.

For me, prayer provides a sense of calm and clarity when circumstances become uncertain. It helps quiet the noise, gather my thoughts, and focus on what needs to happen next.

It doesn’t mean I’m never frightened. It doesn’t mean I have all the answers. And it certainly doesn’t guarantee the outcome I’m hoping for. It simply means I have somewhere to place my faith while I put my hands and feet to work.

Looking back over these past three days, I’m grateful for the timing, the people who helped us, the decisions we made, and those four tiny heartbeats.

None of it unfolded according to our original plans.

Yet there was grace in the unfolding.

Maybe life isn’t about having everything go according to plan. Maybe it’s about learning to meet the unexpected with a steady mind, willing hands, and a heart anchored in faith.

Because we may not always get to choose what life places before us.

But we can choose how we meet it.

And sometimes, that’s where our greatest personal growth begins.

So, my friends, when life turns your carefully laid plans upside down, remember to keep your mind steady, your heart open, and your faith firmly planted. Give yourself grace, extend it to others, and keep putting your best foot forward, even when you haven’t the faintest idea where that foot is supposed to land.

Until next time, may you find grace in the chaos, laughter in the unexpected, and love in every little blessing.

And sleep. Let’s not forget sacred sleep.

With love, hugs, and puppy breath

Tina N. Campbell
Scribed in Light

“A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps.”

—Proverbs 16:9

“Man proposes, God disposes” — Thomas à Kempis