mini Scot

Direct quote from my sister ... "You gave birth to our father." I've been trying to tell people this. Also. TRY BREASTFEEDING HIM.

Over a hospital cafeteria lunch yesterday, Matt and I secured our position as parents.

Me: Hey, hey, hey. Who am I? (make a face where I turn my mouth into a very taut anus and squint my eyes)

Him: Ooooh! You're Merritt! Wait, wait, wait. Who am I? (makes a face where it looks like he's pooping cinderblocks with a hint of a grin at the end)

Me: Oh, oh! I know! Merritt!

Yep. Just two grown-ups totally smitten with a 10-day-old and completely sleep-deprived ... over some cafeteria fish (always pray twice over cafeteria fish) on a rainy, rainy Friday in October.

What's that? You want an update? On Merritt? And his time in the NICU?

Well, The Dude has clean hair. Why? Because his IV was as corrupt as a Louisiana politician and the nurse reasoned that since he's off antibiotics since his cultures came back with no bacterial infections since HE'S ON THE MEND ... that we could risk it and pull the IV. And wash his hair. Hair which I haven't stopped inhaling. Trust me, much more fragrant than about 9 inches down.

He's been eating consistently, putting on weight, and finally cut it with that completely lethargic/broken marionette business. His eyes actually stay in the front of his head now - versus the previous position of "rolled back." So gangster.

Best of all - there's talk of going home in the next day or two! We've just got to manage some of the superfluous symptoms like his "yella" and the fact that he's so precious that he causes my brain to explode every time I look at him. Apparently this conditions requires that I not drive or operate heavy machinery. But we're here to treat him. Not me.

Still no actual prognosis, but probably safe to assume that he picked up some viral bug and that combined with the fact that he's a preemie worked against him. Just a little hiccup in what will no doubt be the incredible life of Merritt Scot Nipper.

I am so dang lucky.