It seems as though the moment I think that we've got this life measured, God tends to rattle our cages quite vigorously. There's nothing like a good dose of something resembling food poisoning, or the 24-hour flu, to make you "see God." Have you ever dry-heaved so hard that it felt as though a rib or two snapped? The frightening thing about a stomach virus is how completely it debilitates you. We're talking prone, supine, splayed out, incapacitated, don't come near, "just leave me here to die" debilitated. What a mechanism the human body is! A bug that is invisible to the naked eye can render you useless.

Ryan has had some problems with apnea over the past couple of days. We went to see him on Thursday night, and he was being moved from a small but private room into the general NICU population. The space became available after six babies were discharged in one day. We had experienced some wonderful visits with him recently, and had made the mistake of anticipating. One cannot help but project, and surmise, and hope. Sometimes that can lead you away from humility, and gratitude. Happiness, it has been proven to me, is not having what you want, but indeed wanting what you have. Laura and I wish for Ryan to be safe, and healthy, and home with us. Ryan is none of those things yet. As his numbers dipped alarmingly when we held him last night, that simple fact became evident once again. All of the gains, his weight at almost three and one-half pounds (3 lbs. 7.6 oz to be exact), his favorable eye reports from the Opthamologist, his color and his prognosis, disappeared beneath a torrent of doubt. Laura began to sob softly into my chest as the nurses calmly dealt with his condition. They uttered reassuring things like "He's just being a premie," and "this happens alot."

Why must it happen to him, after all of the work that he's done?

Because that is the way life is. It is fleeting and precious, and taking it for granted is like turning your back on the ocean.

I went to bed after a projectile episode in our one working bathroom (master bath redo... one of many projects which MUST be done post-haste,) and proceeded to have a nitemare which to this minute seems more plausible than any reality I have faced. I dreamt that while acclimating myself to the role of "mister mom," I turn my back on Ryan for five minutes to do whatever, and return to find him inert and blue. The dream accelerates, he is gone, Laura cannot forgive me, and then... darkness. My family is shattered, and there's no way I can continue living with just myself.

Hey, it's a nitemare. It's supposed to suck.

When bolstering each other's spirits in times of strife, I've often told Laura that we could raise a pillar of a man, only to see him meet an untimely demise for being that stalwart individual. So this morning's headline only reinforces my feelings of angst when holding our infant son. Sometimes, good men die for a cause in which they believe. It's called character, and I pray our son will be of good character.

Then I read further down the page and find the opposite extreme result of parental influence. What are ya gonna do, eh?

Before this becomes a complete downer, a complete update on Ryan reveals a solid two hour hug session with mommy this evening. I didn't attend, because the last thing that guy needs is a stomach virus of any sort. The nurses seem to think that his episodes occur immediately after his feedings, and that perhaps he is getting his milk too quickly. They're adjusting his feeding schedule to allow more time for ingestion, instead of digestion. We pray that this will help the boy, because quite frankly his spells scare us senseless.

Photos, you want photos?!

These are about a week or two old, but they show his steady growth and social curiosity. First, a look at how that crazy CPAP set-up looked. He had enough of that contraption after about two days. Felt it wasn't an image-booster like the slimmer, more user-friendly nasal cannula.

Here's one of Ryan during a kangaroo care session with mommy, and enduring the CPAP contraption. He looks much more comfortable during this lovefest, sans CPAP.

Here's a head shot. Nice head, don't you think?

I dunno, kinda looks like her nose!

A couple of photos taken moments apart. This line from a Foo Fighters tune keeps pounding through my head. "Breathe out... so I can breathe you in..."

Could you possibly trade moments like this for anything? The atmosphere when these two connect is nothing short of molten.

He's hard to lay off of, and we find ourselves wanting to kiss him, and kiss him some more, and maybe one or two times more.

THE BEST PICTURE YET

There's more to discuss, and the week in real estate has been like a dream sequence. Sellers and buyers came to agreements, people said that they appreciated my efforts. I thought for a moment that I was caught unawares in one of those Candid Camera spoofs that are so obvious to an outside observer.

Tomorrow I shall blog anew. You'll have to forgive me, but it's time to get ill again. Love you, Ryan.

Posted by: Paul @ 2:13 AM

Tonight was magical. There is no other word, and although the word implies something less than divine ordinance, Laura and I were still spellbound. The past couple of days have not been the best insofar as business goes. I've gotten a couple of deals in the "back and forth" stages, but it's been frustrating to watch sellers and buyers lose focus on the big picture. In addition, I had been unable to properly extricate myself from the proceedings to visit with my son. So we earmarked tonight as "time with boy."

We arrived at Florida South to find Nurse Nan watching over Ryan, who was sleeping comfortably. Upon hearing our voices, he fluttered awake and set about the task of dazzling us with his "blue marble" eyes. I held him for forty minutes until the 6:30 PM shift change, and as we prepared to leave Laura gave me the same plaintiff look and cooed "Can we come back after the evening rounds?" What's a brotha to do? So we stayed, and worth every minute it was. We now possess some priceless footage of his first bath by our hands, and a rather spirited changing of the diaper and linens. He was SUCH a good boy, only crying a bit. Those beautiful eyes were open for it all, and mommy then held him for a good half hour post-bath, until he became weary and hinted that it was past his bedtime.

Ryan's vitals are as follows: a portly 1536 grams, which translates to a shade over 3 lbs., 6 oz. He is over 16 inches long, and is breathing entirely on his own, with only a light flow from the nasal cannula. His food intake is now 8 full ounces of mother's milk per day, and he is starting to fill out in all of the right places. Heck, he's even got a little bit of a butt!

We are remaining guarded in our optimism. To allow ourselves to succumb to the conventional wisdom that he is surviving, and will come home to us, is too risky. The thought of life without him at this point is so horrifying that entertaining the notion brings us headlong to an emotional abyss. He is radiant, and we are joyous at his rapid progress.

Tomorrow brings new pictures, and I promise some more real estate happenings.

Til then... love you, boy!

Posted by: Paul @ 1:42 AM

A long and fulfilling weekend is drawing to a close. Ryan is breathing entirely on his own, and other than the occasional "spell," is doing remarkably well. A watershed moment for my mom, too. Jack and Barb visited Ryan on Saturday, and as Jack clicked away, Grams connected with the kid. Another priceless moment from our little engine that could.

He was in and out of slumber as Barb held him, but his numbers were good and aside from the odd grimace or two, the visit was an unforgettable experience.

We've got loads of pictures and some great video. The pix will be online tomorrow, but the video I'll need to tinker with because it's far too large a file size in it's present format. Don't fret, as I'll have it up soon enough.

Until Monday, love you... son.

Posted by: Paul @ 11:39 PM