Yesterday we were finally able to bring Evie home. Now it's just us and our baby.
And our dog.
Jack was very excited to see Evie come home. I am sure he knew something was up since we'd left confined to the house so much the past week only to come home and have him smell blankets and small pink hats that smelled of infant. But as I do not speak dog, I will never know his true feelings on the matter. I can only speculate from my observations...
He was excited, and instead of treating her like a new chew toy - which has been my greatest fear about bringing her home - Jack has been as tender as one could possibly expect a boxer to be. Sniffing her, tasting her hair, and even attempting to eat a diaper wipe have all been a part of his learning experience.
Overall, I must say, Jack has been a thousand times more calm than I could have expected, but please don't be misled. His enthusiasm still leaks out in fits of doggish euphoria, where he bounces around the room and whines to just get to sniff her hair, look at her some more, or perhaps try to lick her face.
To a point, we're okay with this, as long as he doesn't hurt her or get too excited. He's been a good dog and though I joke, I'd hate to have to give him away because he was unable to cope with being number two to a newborn.
I'm sure it must be hard on the ol' dog no longer being the center of my wife's affection or seeing me talk to a small person he doesn't know or trust, but if he is wounded to his core he hides it well. In fact, as I type this he stares at me from the kitchen panting and breaking wind, I'm sure fighting with every fiber of his being to hide his deep hurt.
The drama queen.
Anyway, it's been nice having Evelyn home. It's like we can feel like parents at last. Not that we haven't been parents, but we're no longer surrounded by the helpful nurses or able to ask a doctor about every little grunt or face Evie makes. Nor do we have to dance around fifty chords all attached to her skin in an effort to change a diaper. In fact, having her home feels normal. She is finally getting a chance to be a normal infant. Well, as normal as any child of mine could be. But you get the point.
And its wonderful.
In just this last 24 hours, I've changed at least 3 poop-filled diapers, 2 wet diapers, handled one small amount of spit up rocked her to sleep. I loved every second of it.
Last night I told a friend that our house is already starting to smell like poopy diapers, but that I didn't mind. It means she's home!
