Our family of three has been home for a little more than two weeks! (And I've been trying to write this post for more than one week.)

We are still trying to find a rhythm for daily life. Daniel and I haven't killed each other. And Wesley is growing! Just this week, Wes busted out of newborn-sized diapers. And I am getting really good at catching his urine when I change his diaper (thank you Hilary and Issac for the peepee teepees). Overall Wesley seems to be chill, not very dramatic, and he doesn't cry much. I'm worried I won't have anything in common with him? But he's very patient with us, and he seems to be adapting to life on home oxygen.

We trialed him off oxygen yesterday (mainly because I didn't realize the tank had run out), and he made it about eight hours before his blood oxygen started dropping. He's back on it now because I didn't want to find out what would happen if I left him off longer.

With all his equipment (the nasal cannula, the oxygen tank, the pulse oximeter) it's a little tricky to carry him around the house or change his clothing, and I am learning the hard way how many outfits he (and I) can go through in one day. He loves eating as fast as possible, just like his dad, and he feels much better after he pukes down my cleavage, so we've been doing a lot of laundry.

Despite all the bodily fluids, I am wildly in love with my sweet boy. I love his little grunts and I love holding his hand with one finger. I can't stop kissing his face. They say you would do anything for your child, but I have begun questioning that logic, because after about six days of an extreme sleep deficit, I started going psychotic. I was desperate for help, and I even asked the NICU if we could come back. (They said no.)

After that first week, Daniel and I mutually agreed we needed some kind of permanent help, but with Wesley's compromised immune system, we're pretty limited on who can help us. A common cold could send him back to the hospital on a ventilator, or even kill him, so we're holding off on the daycare we had lined up.

In our deepest moment of despair, we were connected with a gal who had NICU twins, who needed an isolated place to take care of her babies while they grow stronger in preparation for surgery. She's a full-time caretaker for them, and somehow, in our giant, lonely house in the woods, it seemed to make sense for her to move in with us for the next six months and help us with Wes.

She's been here a week now, and so far, we are getting a little more sleep, sharing baby tips, and doing laundry together.

We'll see how this winter goes, but you know, if she's already taking care of two babies, and to quote the song Daniel has been singing since I told him I was pregnant:

When it's three, you can see
It's a magic number.