Yesterday afternoon we finally got discharged and got Avery home from the hospital.

Holy crap. What were we thinking? Children are for adults! The trained nurses are there, not here! We don't know nothin' 'bout raisin' no baby, Miss Scarlet!

Both Sed and I have already battled frustrated tears as the worry hits home. We've been told that we can't ever be unworried for the rest of our lives, but there's nothing quite like experience to really cement the lesson.

A large part of our concern has been feeding. Avery lost ten percent of her body weight, as infants are wont to do. A big part of that is that nobody in this house really knows how to nurse, which can lead to some grossly wrong guesses:



But when Sed's milk finally came in this morning and the kid doesn't have to work so hard to just get colostrum, she suddenly seems much more content.



The dogs are taking to the new addition extraordinarily well. Kucha (per her MO) wants to give kisses all the time, which we learned is potentially problematic when Avery's asleep in her bassinet. Angel doesn't seem jealous at all, and in fact wants to snuggle just as much as usual. I suppose there's something to be said for the smell of a newcomer who we (after all) made, as compared to one who just shows up at the door.



Needless to say, we're all exhausted. But it's a very content exhaustion. We're whole, we're all here, and we're still having fun together. I really can't picture myself going back to work on Monday and breaking that up. But if I can't look at this face in person:



at least I can get home for lunch, and I've got the pictures to content myself for the four-hour stretches away from my daughter.