Noteworthy day

Early in the morning, mom and baby are sleeping, and very well deserved. I spoke with Steph earlier today about how so many people we don't even know are praying for our son and looking at these pictures. Some of these pictures aren't happy ones, and I asked Steph how she feels about so many people seeing them. She was hesitant, but decided they're all part of his story. But she mentioned that using discretion on my part wouldn't hurt. We are both very surprised and grateful for the amount of people supporting us.

Having said that, moving chronologically, Quinn's morning had the makings of another arduous and pain stricken day. Today he was visited by some pediatric flesh welders.













Not really. What the nurses are doing is using a light to find some veins for another IV. His previous ones had to come out because his veins were so tiny that not all of his meds were entering his blood. That means he was not receiving the dose of pain med that the doctors had thought for his previous arterial line attempts. Once again, tough break Quinn. More unsuccessful attempts at inserting a line. They placed a blue sheet over him to keep the environment sterile. Now not only could he not cry out, he couldn't even show pain.













Dad got down to look at his face to be right there with him. This is where I'll use discretion with the pictures. But watching his face isn't something I've figured out how to prepare for. The nurse is saying it's actually harder on me, and I'm thinking to myself, come look at his face lady. The nurse started singing softly to Quinn, which was very kind, but he wasn't calming and his heart rate wouldn't come down. So they stopped.

Here's my little wore out champ resting up for more of the same to come.

If they don't get the arterial line into his arm, they will have to use one going into his groin which raises the risk of infection. Steph wishes they would stop trying, but if it weren't important, they wouldn't try at all. Later in the day, his breathing tube was removed and he is breathing all on his own.

His face is sill pretty swollen, which explains why he looks like a little old oriental man. But now Quinn can make noise and I'm so glad for him. He cries, but it doesn't really qualify as a cry since he sounds like a squeaky gremlin. The nurses gave me this little rubber nipple that fits over my finger. It keeps him occupied and kind of removes that ticked off look from his face.














I'm proud of him for enduring everything. And sorry that there's more to come. He's hanging in there good, and has a ton of supporters beyond who mom and dad can name. Thanks again from my family to all.