The word "camera" is written on my left hand. I did that at the hospital after I banged my head against the wall for forgetting it yet again. Quinn is really changing and I need a newer picture of him. He's looking like a slightly smaller newborn now, instead of an alien. He's up to 2030 g, just shy of 4.5 lbs. He's actually filling out some of the preemie outfits. It's exciting.

We did try nursing again today, and that went better than it had in the past. This morning I decided to call and see when the lactation consultants would be available. I had learned from past experience that 9:00 was too early. I was guessing 3:00 would be too late, and 12:00 was lunch hour, so I wasn't sure how this would work out. I called, and yes, 3:00 was too late, and one of them was leaving at 12 anyway. I was expecting this, but Kurt was listening to this just shaking his head trying to picture this workday of less than 6 hours. But I did make an appointment of sorts for 2:40. I got there, and Quinn was wide awake again, which is a good start. The lactation consultant helped me latch him on. He had done it right before, but his mouth is still pretty small to get everything coordinated. And he did suck a little bit, and I know he got something, but it's tiring at first. The lactation consultant thought it was a good session, and that he would get the hang of it. The nurse kept saying the he doesn't have a very strong suck. I thought that was a very strange thing to say. It's like classifying him forever and all time as not having a good suck, like he can't improve on it. By all rights, he should have been safely and peacefully gestating inside me, and not worrying about how well he sucks. I'm sure he just needs practice. I have considered spending a lot more time with him there, both to nurse more often, and to be there when all these phantom specialists come and see him and make pronouncements about him, but going down that road with my two older kids isn't an appealing thought. I'm feeling quite torn between the three of them. I'm also sort of banking on the next eye exam going wonderfully, getting Quinn transferred, and then I can spend a whole lot more time with him when he's only 15 minutes away. Then things will really take off. But for now, well, I've come to think of our NICU time to be less like hell and more like purgatory. It's an in-between state, where we know it will end eventually, but we still have much to endure. The refiner's fire feels hot sometimes.