Marshall is officially one week old.  I could only rub his head and tell him how much I love him to celebrate.

This is lousy.  There is nothing at all that I can do for him. And I’m his mama.

But it could be so much worse.

Marshall is “stable” still. His team would like to see him pee more (“Free the pee!”) at this point but every baby is different.

We ran into Dr. F in the hall on our return from dinner with Grandma Penny. He assured that everything is as it should be and they will likely close tomorrow or Saturday. 

And in the mean time we wait. And wring our hands and hold our breaths and hope. Beyond hope… that the phone doesn’t ring and that Marshall gets better by the hour.

It’s your fight now, sweet baby boy. Show us what you’ve got (and please make it soon if you can.)