You can't really read it in this pic but his outfit says "thank heaven for little boys".
Even though Lucas is a week old already, we are still pretty much obsessed with him. We are probably creating a monster because the only time we set him down is to change his diaper or clothes. Otherwise, either Joe is holding him or I'm holding him or someone else is holding him. (And we set him down at night.I have slept with him on my chest a few nights but I'm trying to stick with keeping him in his bassinet.) I know this is probably going to bite us (me!) in the butt later, but right now, I don't really care. After losing Olivia, months of fertility treatments, then 300+ lovenox shots, a million doctor appointments, and months and months of expecting everything to go wrong at any moment, I refuse to feel bad about holding my baby as much as I can. He won't be this little for long. And while I'm more relaxed then I can remember being in a very long time, we know all too well that there are no guarantees. So anyway, between holding the baby, feeding the baby, pumping after almost every feeding, and changing him, we're pretty sleep deprived and exhausted and blissfully happy and overwhelmingly sad at times too. Our grief is different now. On one hand, we are so blessed and grateful and even a little bit healed in ways I can't really explain.
But. We see so much Olivia in him and not having her here and living all the things we missed out on with her (even just leaving the hospital this time holding a baby) is really hard. Our hearts are full of love and happiness for our new little guy, but in some ways this makes the hole and everything we are missing hurt as much as ever.