There's a Duck in My House

You don't really plan on falling in love with a duck.

Elijah, and her three sibling eggs, were just supposed to be a science project for Avery.  Something for the two of us to bond over.  We'd always wanted to hatch eggs, and we finally had someone willing to give us the eggs, and take the birds back once they were old enough.

You certainly don't plan on having one live in your home.

I've always been the mother who responds, "NO!  They're dirty, gross and noisy!", when my eight year old looked longingly at the birds in the pet store. I mean--have you ever seen those things???? My grandmother loved her outdoor birds, and because of her I love them, but--indoor birds?  Inside my house?  Ew.  No. We have more than our fair share of animals living in our home, and I have to help Shawn draw the line somewhere.

And now...  There's a duck living in my house.

An actual duck.

Have I mentioned yet that I'm nominating my husband for sainthood?

Elijah's egg was the only one that hatched.  Right on time, exactly on day 28. As we walked in the door from church that afternoon, there was a tiny little crack forming down her egg.  We couldn't believe it!  The excitement from all the days before--the little ducky sonograms we'd performed with flashlights ("candling"), watching all the babies swim around in their eggs, was finally peaking.

We were having a baby!

Elijah slowly emerged, first a leg, then finally the rest of her, until she was completely out, that following Tuesday.

We anxiously awaited the other eggs, David, Esther and Samuel.  Sadly, they were not to be.  Never in my life did I think my own miscarriage would help me explain loss of life to my son, but there we were, huddled under the kitchen table, talking about how sometimes babies are just too sick and God spares them pain.  We saw them swimming around in their eggs, we know they were alive at some point.  It's a difficult thing for a child to wrap his head around.  Hell, it's a difficult thing for an adult to wrap her head around. We don't really know why, but it's something we can ask Him when we meet Him.  It hurts us, and it's okay to be sad, and it's okay to miss them, but we know God is taking care of them.  

So, we had a baby duck!  What's next?  Oh--post tons of pictures to Instagram, of course!

We moved Elijah into a plastic tub, which we placed in our--my--luxury tub in our master bathroom (the only room we could close off to protect her from the cats and dog), complete with her heat lamp, special lovies and mirror (to simulate siblings), food and water.  Lots of water.  

For weeks we cleaned up pine shavings throughout the house as Avery cleaned Elijah's plastic tub and cared for her and bleached my tub each time she swam in it (ohhhh, the sacrifices a mother makes for her children!). We also made plans to return Elijah to the farm her egg came from.

And we fell in love.  It suddenly became perfectly normal to have a duck in our house.  I became used to having Elijah chat at me as I showered and dressed in the morning, and got ready for bed at night.  Being who I am, I talked back.  Her evening chatter became my bedtime white noise.  Elijah imprinted on Avery, following him everywhere when we let her out of the bathroom. A duck and her boy.  Like glue.  Melting hearts left and right. I never considered a duck could be so affectionate, but watching her with Avery, she's just such a sweetheart!  She gives kisses, she hugs, she sits in his lap and snuggles, and even preens him.  She calls to him, and responds to his voice.  Avery took to sleeping on our bathroom floor, and spending his free time in there when Elijah couldn't be out. She found ways to entertain herself, like pushing Ezra's matchbox cars around with her beak. Both younger boys loved to read to her, and we had regular duck/boy races occurring in our home.  We spoiled her rotten, discovering her affinity for peas and Cheerios, teaching her to eat right out of our hands.  Elijah had become a member of our family.

Instagram rioted the day we took Elijah to her farm.  Avery cried.  Elijah cried.  I cried.  Shawn took it hard.  Ezra didn't understand.  Noah went easy on Avery for the day. 

It was downright awful.  Our house was so quiet.  Too quiet.  Every time I looked at her plastic tub where we left it until trash day ("Never again, this is too hard on everyone, there will never be another Elijah anyway" Shawn and I declared), and the incubator where we left it until we could give it away ("Never again, it was too much like being pregnant again, and it was just too hard on us," Shawn and I declared), I cried.  Avery's behavior, moody and prone to rollercoaster-like fluctuations on a good day, was off the charts.  Even though we knew we could still visit Elijah, it was as though a death had occurred in our family. I framed two pictures of Elijah for Avery, putting them on his dresser, hoping they would help him cope.  Shawn and I had decided it would be best for both Avery and Elijah if Avery didn't visit for a few days, even though Avery was eager to go back the very next day.

Then I got the phone call, not even a full three days after we'd taken her to her farm.  The long and short of it was, Elijah wasn't adjusting well to farm life, and if we wanted her, we could come get her.   I knew the answer, but with respect to marriage, I explained (trying to hide the giddiness in my voice from Avery) I would have to discuss it with my husband.  I called back the next day with a resounding YES, and the following day, Elijah was back home, where she belongs.

Instagram celebrated!  I cried when I saw our girl.  Avery couldn't stop laughing.  Shawn smiled.  Noah shook his head and rolled his teenage eyes.  Ezra was a giddy little toddler.  And Elijah--she knew she was home and wouldn't stop quacking at us.  She put her little face right in Avery's lap when he sat down for her at the farm.  She ran to our car with him.  A reunion never looked so good!

Life is back to what qualifies as normal around here.  It's the way it should be. Avery does his schoolwork curled up with his duck, and both littles are happy to have their reading buddy back.  She is enormously good for Avery.  The effect she has on him--I can't describe it.  They need each other.    Elijah has explored her backyard a bit, and we learned that a duck attempting flight and a Border Collie do not make a good outdoor mix.  That nearly ended badly.  She nibbles on our toes during dinner, settling under the table near Avery.  We've adjusted a few things--no more wood shavings, for example.  Elijah has a little apartment in our bedroom, some cute little digs that make things easier for everyone.  She has a bed next to the fireplace, just like the cats do. And with duck diapers (yep--but the question on all of our minds as we shopped for the maxi-pad inserts, do ducks need pads with wings???), she is free to roam the house when we're home.  I've drawn the line at allowing her on the furniture, but I have a very willful boy, and a duck who rests her beak on the couch, staring at her boy, wondering why he isn't on the floor with her, so it's just a matter of time, right?  Everyone gets along, the cats think she's one weird looking cat, she thinks they're one weird looking duck, and the dog--well, Lilly is Lilly.  She's never sure what she thinks.

So yeah, there's a duck in our home.  And she's family.