60 Days

I'm just gonna come right out and say this.
I'm tired.
Like really, really tired.
I feel like I never get caught up on sleep.
I know this is normal for a new mom, but I just want to sit at home in my PJs.
And hold my baby.

Today marks 60 days that BH has been in the hospital.
60 long days.
And I haven't missed a single day there with him.
I'm not gonna lie, sometimes I really wish I could leave work and go straight
home to bed.
But I know I'd miss him too much.
It's like a tiny part of me is sitting in that little isolette that he still calls a bed.
And I just have to be near him.

The problem is, I have other kids.
And a husband who sees me just in passing these days.
FH normally takes the girls home early from the hospital so I can
stay and have more quiet time with BH.
Luckily, FH has turned into quite the superdad.
He does the dishes, the laundry, homework, tucks them in at night.
Everything and anything he can to help since I'm never home.

It's sad though.
Sad to hear my girls tell me they miss me.
Sad to have to facetime them a goodnight kiss because they will be asleep
by the time I get home.
But it's necessary.
And hopefully will all be over soon when we bring that little stud home.

BH is doing great so far.
He is gaining weight like a champ. Currently sitting at 3 lbs, 7 ounces.
We were told that with most micropreemies, it takes what feels like forever for them to reach 3 lbs.
And then once they do, they start packing on the lbs.
Man, they weren't playing.
He gained that 7 ounces in less than a week!
He is really starting to get some meat on his bones.
And his little chubby cheeks are just out of this world.
I could stare at him all day long.

And that smile!
I know it might just be a little bit of gas, but I don't care, as long as he's smiling!

He has 2 days left on his antibiotics and then we are done with those.
Hopefully next week, he will start attempting to drink from a bottle.

I'm really nervous about the bottle.
He knows how to suck, I know that from him going to town on his paci.
But the thing is, he has to learn how to suck, swallow, and breathe all at the same time.
This is a huge obstacle for most preemies and will take him awhile to get it down.

He has to gain weight for 3 more days (5 days in a row) and be able to hold
his temperature and then he will get moved to a flat bed instead of his isolette.
This will be great because it's really hard to see him in that box!

He's currently on the CPAP breathing machine and doing well.
I pray that he moves to the last breathing machine soon and handles it well.
I know it sounds super selfish of me, but I really don't want him to come home on oxygen.
Lots of preemies do, and it's really not that big of a deal.
But I am praying so hard that once he leaves that hospital, he never looks back.
That he comes home with absolutely no reminder of being forced into an early birth.
I know this is a shot in the dark, but I'd rather him stay just a little bit longer there if he needs to
in order to come home with his face free of all tape, prongs, or other gadgets.

I mean, it's just a crying shame to cover this handsome face up with anything.

That hair. It kills me. It makes him look like a 100 year old man and a precious baby all at once.
I have lots of closeups like this because when I hold him, I just want to cherish the moment.
And remember forever.

One day when he is driving me nuts because he won't stop talking. Or he is too needy. Or cries too much. I want to remember how I stopped my entire world every chance I could just to sit with him like this. I'm grateful that we have these memories together.

In "the real world", I'm a fast paced, on the go Mom.
Only because he is in the NICU do I get to stop everything else and just be with him.
Never have I ever sat still for 3 hours, except during our holding time.
And I'm grateful that his hospital stay has made this possible.

I'm not going to lie. I've gotten to where I love our Friday nights.
I spend the night with him every Friday night. It's our slumber party time.
When I'm at the NICU, I can just be.
I don't have to worry about folding laundry or doing dishes. Or all the million things I should be doing. I just get to relax and know that I'm there just in case anything happens.

Don't worry, I reserve Saturday nights for the girls and FH.
And I do my best not to fall asleep at 7 on those nights so that I can spend enough time with them.

We still don't know when he will be home.
It's almost impossible to tell until we see how he does with a bottle. And on the next breathing machine.
But I'm praying for December. And won't lose my cool if it's not until January.
Anything after that though is just unacceptable.
You hear me Harper?!

Thank you for following along on our journey to bringing this sweet boy home.
I look forward to the day that I can say "remember when BH was in the NICU...."

Until then, we'll just keep on keepin' on!
Happy Thursday everybody. :) Pin It Now!