Emery is now 33 weeks and  3 days gestation and is living proof that no hurdle is too big for him to jump. 

He's gained over a pound in two weeks (wahoo, liquid gold!), and is now a hefty 4lbs 6oz. He's so big that they've transitioned him from an isolette (the incubator-looking thing) to an actual crib. He's a particularly long preemie, so with the weight and height, he's starting to look like a normal, term baby. His cheeks are filling out nicely, and he's looking a lot like his older brother, albeit a way more red-headed version. He was moved from CPAP two days ago to a high flow nasal cannula, so he still gets respiratory support, but not that much. We started at 4 liters of oxygen right away, and we are already down to 2L. According to the nurse, 2 liters is the "magic number" where the grower-feeder stage begins--if the team approves it, Emery will be allowed to explore breastfeeding today. 

I don't expect him to latch and actually feed; those skills are not yet strong enough at this young of gestation. I expect a couple of weeks of learning and growing. I also expect some frustrating nights and set backs. Preemies take a lot of time to grasp a healthy rhythm of latching, sucking, swallowing, and breathing. That rhythm can be really difficult to cement into place, all while maintaining a stable heart rate. While I obviously hope that he will be able to come home sooner rather than later, I don't want him leaving until he's really ready. So we will give him all of the time, love, and patience that he needs to safely come home and into the real world.  

I'm just so excited for him to explore the breastfeeding world. It's a way for us to connect on the emotional level that I had so desperately wanted from the moment of his birth. It'll be a process of connection, recognition, and intense love, and I can't wait. Mother nature is steering that boat, and I'll let it happen as it can. I am just going to manifest a good breastfeeding experience for the both of us so that he can continue to grow and be nurtured in the best way I possibly know how. 

Of course there's the risk that he won't ever latch, and that's okay. I know that there's a real chance that his body might never be able to pick that up. And that's okay. Above all else, I just want him fed, growing, and safe at home. 

Emery is strong-willed, but very calm in between cares. He knows what he wants, and he fights for it. But once he's gotten his requests fulfilled (how DARE I swaddle him with his arms up instead of at his side), he settles very quickly. He opens his eyes and is now very aware of the shapes and movements around him. His big, beautiful eyes study my face while I hold him, and I know he's starting to recognize the blurry shape he sees.

He had his first eye exam this week; normally preemies at his size are predisposed to retinal damage due to corneal immaturity and exposure to light. But Emery's eyes are so well-developed and unscathed that he doesn't require another check for an entire month. To put this into perspective, most preemies his age are examined weekly. 

He's doing so incredibly well that I'm almost waiting for something to happen. While I (of course) hope and pray to the Universe that he will experience no such setback, I am just hesitant to let my guard down. My children are the core of my spiritual peace, and that core is so strong, yet so incredibly fragile. 

I've never had to be this strong before, and I've been through the ringer. 

I wake up in the middle of the night to pump, so I wake up tired. I usually spend the morning with Logan, then straight to the hospital. I usually spend the morning at Emery's bedside doing homework and tending to him when he needs me. I'm doing diaper changes, baths, love, and more pumping. I then leave in the evening to go home to Logan, give him the love and attention he needs, try to catch up on cleaning when I can, help with bedtime, and do it all over again. The idea that I'll be adding work into that soon is daunting, but I can do it. I'm finding that even though I cry all the time, the crying is becoming a lot less common. I'm finding strength in myself lately; something that I've definitely underestimated. I feel myself changing and growing right alongside Emery--I am not the same person I was a month ago. I'm proud of myself. I'm proud of Jess. And I'm so incredibly proud of my sons. Our family's unwavering ability to love and support each other is breathtaking. 

My mother has been a shining light through all of this. Whether it's taking Logan so that we can see Emery together rather than tag-teaming, letting us take a nap, or just showering us with love, she's a constant presence, and a much needed one. You never stop needing your mother. And finally understanding the deep-rooted love and strength she has for all of us is truly a gift. 

I never thought I could love another being as much as I love Logan. But it turns out that the moment I laid eyes on Emery, I loved him just as much, just in a different way. I will never stop fighting for my boys. And they've both proven time and time again that they're resilient too. 

We're in the thick of it now, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel.