We’re starting to find our groove around here. But it hasn’t been without a small slice of tribulation.
Our first week home from the hospital was really rough since our dog Iggy turned out to be kid-unfriendly. His behavior from the moment we walked in the door with Margot became erratic and unpredictable, and proved to be too much to put our newborn through. With heavy hearts we had to say goodbye to Iggy and surrender him to the same no-kill shelter we adopted him from. Iggy had territorial tendencies, and the last thing we wanted was for his jealousy to turn even more aggressive towards our new baby. I spoke with a trainer who confirmed that his behavior was not something that could be trained out of him, and she advised we’d made the right decision. I sleep a little better at night knowing that much.
I still cry when I think about Iggy, but I’m confident we made the right decision. Coming down from pregnancy hormones, recovering from an unexpected cesarean birth, saying goodbye to Iggy, and welcoming this beautiful baby into our home was a lot to handle right off the bat, but the atmosphere has become much more peaceful around here.
We’ve been fortunate enough to have family friends and neighbors bring us dinner every night since my mother-in-law headed back east to Oklahoma. Without that help, I can’t image the further disarray our home would be in. Since being promoted from housewife to stay at home mom I’ve often found myself missing daytime meals while trying to catch up on sleep, or feeding Margot. I’ll strike a balance soon enough.
Otherwise, I’m healing from my cesarean nicely and almost back to full swing. Isaac has gone back to work and a mood of normalcy has settled over the home, much like the light layer of dust coating my untidy living room. I’ll get better at juggling everything, but for now I’m really enjoying Margot. It’s easy to get lost in her steel blue eyes, or giggle when she sneezes her tiny baby sneezes. I still can’t believe she grew in my belly.
And every once in awhile, she throws me a grin that melts me to the core, regardless of the baby flatulence that typically follows.
P.S.
I didn’t realize it before, but my baby’s name and dog’s name sound very similar and are in fact indistinguishable to my beagle’s ears. Anytime I ask if Margot is hungry, Yango jumps up and waddles over to his bowl overcome with mealtime glee. It’s one of those funny little things that go on under our roof.
While I thoroughly enjoy the tender moments when my elderly beagle, Yango, gingerly sniffs the chubby face and little toes of my darling Margot, I find that by far, tiny dresses are the best part of having a baby girl. I can’t visit major retailers without detouring to the baby section to thumb through the racks for a tiny dress for my tiny girl. Call it projection, call it what you will, but there’s something about the mini hangers, the little bloomers, and the lively patterns; it’s all so adorable and so addictive.
Yea Yea Pueblo 