In a holding pattern...

For starters, Allan is doing fine. Not great or fabulous but fine. We got a new doctor today -- once you are out of the NICU, you can't go back. So Allan is on a regular peds ward in a very big, metal crib (it really looks like a monkey baby ought to be in it). The educated guess seems to be that he overloaded on fluids (although they are doing a few tests to rule out some other possibilitites) and that they need to adjust his meds to get him back to where he ought to be. Then they need to figure out how to keep him there. The truth of the matter is that it is going to be a delicate balance with him. Very small changes make a big difference and it is going to be like that for a while. It is going to take a day or two to get this sorted out and then we'll be homeward bound again. He has had a steady stream of visitors. Caitlin came by last night. Then Jenny and Sarah came by this morning before Dad left for work. Gerry came in the early morning hours. Then Alissa came by before lunch. And then they came back by in the afternoon. Cheryl and Jennifer both called in to check on him, too. If TLC makes any difference at all, he is going to be better in no time.
Since Griffith hasn't been eating a whole lot at his 3 a.m. feeding, we got the go ahead from the pediatrician to see if we could back off of that one. If he wakes up for it, fine, but otherwise, just let it ride. Sounds great in theory. Last night, I put him to bed after his nine and decided to let him wake me for the midnight feed. He didn't get up until nearly 1:30 (and he was in NO mood to wait for his dinner). As I put him back down about 2 a.m. I was congratulating myself thinking that we would make it to 5:30 or nearly 6 a.m. before he woke again. No dice. He was still determined to get in 3 night feeds regardless of how I felt about it. We were up again at 4 and then again at 6. I'm not really sure what I think I accomplished. We'll give it another go tonight and then decide whether this is worth it or not. Miss Flora arrived at her usual time this morning, but Griffith was still asleep. I guess he wanted her to be sure that she knew that he was well and truly over her. He had waited Saturday and Sunday and his patience (what little he has) was at an end. When I left this morning she swore that she had decided this weekend that she would make a concerted effort to put him down. Of course, when I stopped by at lunch, she and Griffith were where I had left them at 8 a.m. And that's where Jay found them at 6, too. She had charted when she laid him down, though, just to prove that she did (on occasion) put him in his pack 'n' play. As if we really care. Once I got home and Dad headed back to the hospital (after putting Griffith in charge as the man of the house), all I did was hold him, too. We watche a little Dirty Dancing, ate 2nd dinner, burped (him, not me)(much) and went to bed (him, not me)(but soon). Dad just checked in and he and Allan have read The Foot Book (thanks, Cheryl!) and Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? (ditto -- dibble, dibble, dopp, dopp). I have abandoned the kids' lit for the moment and have been doing the best I can with The Memory Keepers' Daughter with both of the boys (only so much rhyming one can do before one loses one's mind, after all.)
Miss Flora has to go with her husband tomorrow for some tests so Aunt Kathy is coming to hang out with Griffith so that Mom can go and be with Allan.