Turning 7

So today is Tuesday and one week ago, just after noon, Noah was born.  

We didn't expect he'd be in the hospital all but one of those days, and from what we've heard, he may be there a few more.

He really is doing a great job being a baby, but as you can see he's hopped up on oxygen.  We can't help but wonder if his use of this performance-enhancing drug is giving him an edge--I'm sure he would win hands-down at any Olympic event in the seven-days-and-under category.

The troube is, he clearly needs the oxygen, and everyone would love to know why.  He's endured the full set of tests, LP, bloodwork, and prettymuch every other testable fluid he could unwillingly donate, and now we wait for the results.  I find it an odd position to be in, not knowing what to hope for.  You see him there feeding well and being so adorable, and it doesn't seem like he should be there at all.  We can take a lot of comfort in the fact that he doesn't appear unwell at all.  And being in the children's hospital, you don't have to look far to see all the unplanned/unexpected things that can and do happen.  Should we hope one of the tests come back positive so he can be treated for something, or hope they're negative?  I'm not sure.  We have heard of very similar things happening to new babies though, so we're not too worried; we would just like be a bit selfish and have little Noah spend some more time at home.