grandma & grandpa – Patrick Hoopes

Adoption memories

We had Patrick’s g-tube study done. (Great results! Nothing wrong. Just a slightly upward angle that makes positioning the tube tricky.) As part of the history, they asked when the gastrostomy (g-tube hole) was created and I realized last night that I could have answered “exactly two years ago.”

Why do I remember that? Well, because exactly two years ago yesterday, the court officially named us as Patrick’s legal guardians. It was the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.

A friend of mine has been doing something special this month on her blog. Because it’s national adoption awareness month, she’s been posting daily adoption related posts. She invited me to be a guest blogger and, by coincidence, will be running my post today… a very significant 2 year adoption anniversary for us.

So, I thought I’d share with you what I wrote for her. Here goes:

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Ours is not a typical adoption story, because Patrick is not a typical little boy. His life was meant to be something different, something miraculous, and so it required that it start in a very different and miraculous way.

But my part of the story starts the way a lot of others do. We wanted to have children. When that didn’t happen easily, we involved doctors. For years, we went through the ups and downs of charting and temperature taking, tests and medications. Finally, after several years and a minor surgery, our doctor sat us down for “the talk.” He explained that there were several causes of my infertility. The cards were, essentially, stacked against us. He still felt it very possible that we could have children, but only with major medical intervention. We had some big choices to make.

We talked about it and we prayed about it. And then, that Sunday, as we sat in church, we received a clear answer that it was time for us to stop medical treatments. Our child would come to us through adoption.

With a path finally before us, we moved forward quickly. I’ve never felt so driven to do anything before in my life. In under a month, we completed the application process, training classes, and were mostly done with our home study.

During our home visit, we had a conversation with our case worker that would play a major part in bringing Patrick into our family. She’d looked at our “preferences checklist” and noted that we seemed more open than most to adopting a child with special needs. We explained that we felt that adoption was a faith process. We believe that Heavenly Father puts families together. We knew we’d never turn away a child born to us with medical problems. So, if God was in charge of adoptions, too, then why would we limit His options? We knew Heavenly Father would help us find our child and that, if the child really belonged in our family, race and health wouldn’t stand in the way.

We decided to adopt in June. Our application was approved in September and we hunkered down for a nice long wait. We figured two years, at the least, was the average we’d heard. And still, by the end of October it felt like far too long. My heart ached for a child it knew was missing.

Then, on a very snowy morning the first week of November, my phone rang. It was my case worker. She started out by saying, “There was a little boy born on Halloween in Michigan.” My heart skipped a beat. I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and started scribbling notes. She told me he was Korean. And then, she went on to tell me that he’d had a birth defect. His intestines had developed on the outside of his abdomen. The doctors were saying he had a life expectancy of 1 to 2 years. They needed to find an adoptive home quickly because doctors wanted to discharge him from the hospital. All she could tell me about his family that his birth mother wanted him to be able to go to the temple to be sealed to a family.

She said she’d send an e-mail with more information and a picture. She encouraged me to talk to Brian and decide if we’d like to be among those families considered to adopt this little boy, and then to call her and let her know.

As soon as I gathered myself, I called Brian. But he wasn’t at his desk. Meanwhile, two e-mails arrived. One was a short paragraph from the baby’s caseworker in Michigan explaining his medical needs and the unconventional and hurried search for parents. In the other were two photographs of a sweet little Korean boy with great big eyes and an IV in his head.

Since Brian wasn’t at his desk, I called the insurance company to find out if this we even had coverage to pay for this kind of medical problem.

That’s how Brian first found out about the offer. While I was on hold with the insurance company, he called back on my cell phone, so he heard me finish the conversation about “preexisting conditions” and “adoption”.

I gave Brian the information and, after a quick moment of thought, he said he’d come right home.

We had a prayer together, then went to the temple – the perfect setting to make decisions about life and death and eternity.

I knew that families are eternal. I knew that mortality is not the end of life. And yet, I was filled with grief. It was as if I’d just been told I was carrying a child with a terminal illness, but he wasn’t even mine yet. And I was scared. I didn’t know if I was ready to leave the life I knew then.. abandon it all, and become mom to a child who would need so much help, and who had such an uncertain future.

Still, when Brian turned to me and said, “I think we should pursue this,” my heart leapt with joy.

So, we called our caseworker and gave her a list of questions we had. And then we went to visit our parents. We felt we should tell them about the offer, because we knew that whatever happened, we were never going to be the same. And we both wanted father’s blessings. We showed them the little boy with the angel eyes and explained that we didn’t know if he was ours.. But from that moment, all of our families were praying for a little boy whom the e-mail called “Patrick.”

That was Wednesday. Thursday, I sent a copy of our profile. Friday afternoon, as I on my lunch break with Brian, our case worker called my cell phone. The birth family had seen our profile and had chosen us to adopt their baby.

Now, we had a choice to make. Because we’d been selected, we could finally start filling in the gaps in the medical information we were getting. And boy, where there gaps! We called the baby’s caseworker, who referred us to the hospital social worker. Finally, we decided we needed to talk to doctors, and we needed to do it face to face.

I called my mom and told her to take my credit card and buy airplane tickets. Then, I went back to work, explained what had happened, and asked for a leave of absence. After that, we went to the adoption agency where we signed pre-placement paperwork required for us see the baby in the hospital.

Friday night, we tried to get ready. We booked a long-term stay hotel room. We faxed legal documents to Michigan. We make a shopping list of nursery items. And we tried to pack.

I packed my bags that night not knowing what exactly I was packing for. We still didn’t know enough to say if we could take care of this baby. We didn’t know if or when he’d be discharged. We didn’t know how long it would take before we’d be given permission to leave the state again.

And yet, Saturday morning as I sat on a plane to Detroit, 10 rows ahead of my husband, I felt a quiet, happy calm. If nothing else, I knew it would be ok.

We met Patrick, his family, and his doctor Saturday night. It wasn’t what we expected. Due to unforeseen problems, things were tense at the hospital when we arrived. We felt like we knew nothing at all about his condition when we heard the doctor’s account. His case was much more severe than we’d understood, but the immediate prognosis was better.

At last, they led us to his room. My first impression was of how small he was. He was SO tiny! Just a little ball with wires and tubes attached. Without them, you’d have never guessed there was anything wrong.

They let me hold him while we talked. He felt so small and fragile.

I thought that the moment I met my baby, or the moment I held him, that I’d know he was mine. But that isn’t what happened for me. There were too many questions, still and I’d have to wait for that confirmation.

Sunday, we arranged to spend the day with Patrick. The nurses were so kind to let us change his diapers and help with other aspects of his care. I sat for hours singing him lullabies and watching monitors and letting him sleep.

When we arrived, the nurses warned us that he had a reputation as a very irritable little boy. There was even a sign on his door warning not to wake him. He was famous for screaming hysterically if his sleep was interrupted. But that’s not the baby I met. He was just a sweet, tiny little boy who wanted to be held.

I remember singing to him: “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here. Has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear.” And my voice choked on the words because I knew that right at that moment, Patrick didn’t have that. I couldn’t imagine how any little boy could go through all he’d need to go through alone.

That night, as we looked at pictures from the day, I came across one that showed just his face with a white background. I knew, when I saw that picture, that I loved him.. and I wanted to keep him.

Monday morning, we held a “family conference.” It was a business day so we finally had been able to confirm that there were doctors to take care of him at our hospital at home. Our insurance confirmed that he’d be covered. Brian needed to hop on a plane to go back to work. (He was running a conference that week.) So, knowing we had the resources to provide for his physical needs, we asked Patrick if he’d like to be a part of our family. I swear, he looked up at Brian and smiled.

The case worker rushed to the hospital and by 1, we’d signed paperwork, and I was on my way to the airport with my husband. I was staying behind to start a whole new life.

The next few weeks in Michigan are among the sweetest of my life. With nothing else to do but hold my new baby and learn to care for him, I virtually lived in the NICU. My mom came for a week and shared with me in Patrick’s first feeding, first bath, and first time wearing real clothes. This time was also some of the hardest I’d experienced as I received a trial by fire as a mom of a child with major health problems. Patrick had his second surgery the day Brian flew back to be with us.

Two weeks after we signed papers, on my birthday, the birth parents appeared in court, and we were named as Patrick’s legal guardians. A week later, we had permission to bring him home. At 4 a.m. Thanksgiving day, Patrick and I arrived at Primary Children’s Hospital by air ambulance. He’d spend the next few weeks there as the doctors here got to know him and made arrangements for us to take care of him at home.

Because of his medical needs, the courts granted an early finalization of his adoption and we were able to take Patrick to the temple to be sealed as a forever family in February when he was just 4 months old.

Patrick just turned 2. He is an active, happy toddler who loves cars and music and Elmo. He is a living miracle! Patrick’s birth defect came with a rare complication. As a result, at birth he was missing over 95% of his small intestine. Without intestine, he doesn’t get nutrition by eating. In fact, eating large amounts puts him at risk for dehydration and bowel obstruction. Instead, he is entirely dependent on a form of IV nutrition called TPN. He has a permanent IV tunneled through his chest, into a vein in his chest or neck that runs to his heart.

The TPN leads to complications like infection and liver disease. In his short 2 years of life he has already struggled with both. Patrick’s doctors warned us before we adopted him that we’d become such regulars in the E.R. that we’d be on a first name basis with the staff. We soon found that to be true not just for the E.R. staff, but also the IV team, the infectious disease team, the PICU team, most of the residents, several of the medical students, and the entire gastroenterology department.

At 9 months old, as a result of infection, Patrick’s heart stopped. The fact that he is alive now is nothing short of a miracle. No doctor who hears his story and then meets him can help but confess that he has beaten the odds in countless ways.

Patrick will eventually need an intestinal transplant. He is already running out of places to put new IV’s and each new infection makes him a little more fragile.

Since they don’t do intestinal transplants where we live, we have chosen to have Patrick listed at Seattle Children’s Hospital. Patrick has been on the waiting list since April of 2009. He is status 1A and will have his transplant is soon as a donor match is found.

People try to tell us sometimes what a tremendous thing we did in adopting Patrick. We don’t really feel it’s something we can take credit for. As we told our caseworker when this all started, Heavenly Father puts families together. He knew Patrick needed us. And what’s more, He knew we needed Patrick.

Raising Patrick has taught us more about life than any other experience. We have learned to rely entirely on the Lord. We have learned to live each moment to it’s fullest. We have learned to lean on one another when things are hard and we to trust in hands of friends and strangers when we felt too weak to stand on our own. And we have learned to love like we didn’t know it was possible to love.

Mother’s Day

Patrick is feeling much, much better now. The infection has been well treated with the medicines he’s getting. He’s stable, happy, and playing. Doesn’t need monitors. Doesn’t need much attention at all, except giving his medications on time. There’s only one thing keeping us here. . .

Because this is the 2nd time in a very short time that Patrick’s had a yeast infection, they wanted to make good and sure that the bug is dead before they put a new line back in. Right now, Patrick has a good “deep line” in his leg. This means that it is in deep enough that they can draw labwork out of it and give better nutrition through it. However, it doesn’t go all the way to his heart, which means that it’s not as likely to get infected – but it’s also not really the safest for taking him home with. He’ll get a new central line on Tuesday and go home as soon as possible afterwards.

So, we spent Mother’s day in the hospital. It was a good day, though very quiet. We got to visit with both Brian’s mother and mine today. Patrick got to get all dressed up and go to church. (Best dressed patient in the hospital today, I’d bet.)

Being here has been a good opportunity for me to reflect on how grateful I am for the many different types of mothers who play a part in our lives. Mothering Patrick is not the kind of job I could do all by myself.

I’m grateful for a mother and mother-in-law who’ve been willing to step up and step in to learn how to provide Patrick’s medical care so that Brian and I can get the occasional night out or so that when I’m exhausted and at my wits end I have somewhere to turn. You may not know what a rare priviledge that is that you have given to us.

We are grateful for our mothers. You prepared us to be Patrick’s parents and you help us each day to do it. I don’t think it’s possible to count the number of prayers, meals, phone calls, visits, crazy projects, and more that you have offered for our little family.

I’m grateful for sisters and a sister-in-law who are also there to help lighten my load when I need it, to fill the fun aunt roles. They are helping to raise some spectacular children, Patrick’s cousins, and him as well.

I’m grateful this week for nurses and CNA’s who have taught me how to do this job, who’ve sat rocking Patrick in the dark so I can catch a few hours’ sleep, who listen when I need to cry or share in small, although sometimes icky, triumphs and who make my day every time we see them because of how much they love my child.

I’m grateful for Patrick’s birthmother. I have no doubt that she loves and is proud of Patrick. I am impressed by her strength. I’m grateful to his birth grandmothers who trusted in their children and loved Patrick. It’s not easy to support a son or daughter considering adoption when you know it means a grandchild will be far away. We are grateful for the love and trust and support they’ve shown in us. We also owe thanks to Patrick’s aunts who helped offer comfort when needed and still are lovingly watching over him. What a blessing it is that he was born into a family who loved him so much.

This mother’s day, thank you to all of you mothers who are there for us. You come in all shapes and sizes.. friends, neighbors, family, and more. I couldn’t do this without you.

Through Grandma’s eyes

I have so far resisted the impulse to write and to let Emily handle all the blogging. But after reading her most recent post about the beginning of this journey, I feel like adding some of my own thoughts.

It is difficult for a mother of seven to see her daughters struggle with infertility. I always have a prayer in my heart for them to be able to experience the joy that I feel as a mother and grandmother.

When Emily and Brian came to us with the story of the little baby born in Michigan that might not have a long life, I had such mixed feelings. I wanted them to have this little guy in their lives, but didn’t want them to have to suffer any more sorrow. There were so many unknowns. I can’t tell you why I fell so instantly in love with that little 2 x 2 inch digital image, but I did, and hoped that things would work out.

I don’t want to jump ahead too much from Emily’s story…but the best part of November last year for me was that I got to go to Michigan and meet Patrick myself. Brian had to come back to Utah and complete a project at work. Thankfully, we have access to Delta Buddy passes and I was able to fly out and stay with Emily for the week he was gone.

She picked me up at the airport and I don’t remember if we went to the hotel first, but we were at the hospital in no time. We had to check in at a secure desk and then off to wash. This was an event in and of itself. Roll up your sleeves, take off your jewelry, look at the clock and then begin to scrub and not just for a few seconds, it took several minutes.

Then through a maze of sorts (took me a couple of days to figure it all out) and we were in Patrick’s room. The lights were dim and there he was…big brown eyes and lots and lots of dark hair. He was so tiny. Just over 5 lbs. His tiny head fit easily into just the palm of my hand. Holding him was no effort at all, except that he had leads and tubes that connected him to life-saving and monitoring equipment.

The next few days were spent mostly at the hospital. We spent very little time in the hotel, just enough to heat up some food (can’t cook everything in the microwave believe it or not) and send home the many, many pictures that we were taking to keep Brian up-to-date. We had time to attend a Sacrament Meeting and catch some people at the Detroit Temple and ask them to place him name on the roll there. But we made sure that we were there for rounds morning and night as much as possible. Every day there were new things to learn about Patrick’s condition.

Emily was swamped with the details of the adoption, the insurance, medical decisions, travel plans and keeping family back home in the loop. Because she had phone calls to make, I got to hold Patrick for many, many hours. He isn’t able to have much by mouth and the instinct to comfort a crying baby with a bottle or breast just wasn’t an option. We quickly learned the value of a “paci”.

The nurses there are amazing. They are caring and skilled. They seemed to have an instinct for being available but not in the way. I felt comfortable enough to sing him and tell him stories and I know Emily did, too. And I know that when we weren’t there, they were holding him and loving him just like we did.

I will forever treasure that special week getting to know this grandson. I am grateful for the self-less decision that Brian and Emily made to bring him into our family. They are amazing, completely prepared by the Lord for their role as Patrick’s parents.

Sealing and blessing

As of 4:10 p.m. on February 13th, Patrick is officially a member of our eternal family!

We started out the weekend’s events with a little bit of humbling. Howie took the day off to help get the house ready and I was going nuts trying to take care of every little detail from ironing temple clothes to prepping food for the open house. But, a flat tire on the freeway ay 10:30 the night before we went to the temple was a good pull back into reality. Changing the tire was easy, but it revealed other bigger problems and we made it home on a prayer and half a rotor on the front passenger side. Boy did my priorities realign quickly, especially as I watched our car be taken away on a tow truck, just trusting that we’d get through the weekend all right anyway.

Howie’s family helped get the church set up for us to go the temple, and then his mom made it here just on time to watch Patrick while we got dressed to go. She drove us to the temple and we tried took a few pictures. Although it was sunny, the wind was bitter cold and Patrick was NOT happy so we didn’t stay too long.
My mom and dad met us at the temple. Mom was there to take care of Patrick in the nursery. (Including dressing him and reconnecting his IV’s). We left him there in capable hands and then went off to get dressed in white.

We met the sealer (this is the official title for the man who performs a sealing ceremony in the temple). Turns out he had been the community doctor in the town where my family grew up, so he knew my grandparents and dad, and some of my mom’s family, too.

They kept trying to start early… But my grandpa and some of my friends hadn’t made it there yet.. So we just made everyone wait. Our friend Tifanie was so excited that she couldn’t contain herself and ran over and gave me a hug… making everyone cry.

Finally everyone all of the guests had arrived and they went and got the man of the hour. My mom brought him in, dressed in a white tuxedo and wrapped in a white afghan she made just for the occasion. Brian and I knelt across the altar from each other, holding hands, and Brian’s mom brought Patrick and laid his little hand on ours. At first, he was a bit fussy, but we turned him around so his right hand would be on ours, and he caught my eye, and he settled down immediately. We watched each other’s eyes the whole time.

A sealing for a child is quite short… just a few lines said by the sealer that bind the child to his or her parents (in the eternal record) and then promise special blessings. Patrick seemed to soak up the entire experience, and then, completely content, went right to sleep as soon as it was over and I had him in my arms.

We celebrated and welcomed him into the family that evening with an open house at the church. I went smoothly (thanks in part to awesome family who helped with the food prep, set up, and clean up). There were enough people there that I couldn’t quite make it to talk to them all. Finally we wrapped up, cleaned up, and got home COMPLETELY exhausted! And with way, way, WAY too many leftovers. I think next open house I’m going with punch and cookies.

Saturday we got to recoup a bit as we visited with family, which was nice because we knew Sunday would be another big day. Patrick got to know his cousins and aunts and uncles a bit better.

Sunday morning Patrick could barely sleep. After his morning feeding, I sat in his room holding him and he just kept waking up and grinning at me. I swear he knew what was going on that day.

Because he had us up early, we were able to take our time getting ready. He spent a little time cuddled with his Daddy in the bed, and then we got him dressed and ready for church. Our ward has classes first, followed by sacrament meeting, so I went off to Primary with the children and Patrick went with Brian to his classes.

We snuck out a bit early to change Patrick into his white tux… and luck of all luck… found that his ostomy bag had started to leak. Luckily, by now Howie and I are a pretty smooth team and we were able to pull of a pretty amazing quick change in one of the classrooms and still make it to the chapel on time.

When the time came, Brian took Patrick to the front of the chapel. Brian is an Elder in our church, and his brothers, some of my brothers, our fathers, and my grandfather are also priesthood holders, and therefore could help with the ordinance. They surrounded Patrick, each with one hand holding him, and then Brian performed the blessing.

In a baby blessing, the child is given a name and then given personalized blessings. Among other things I remember from the blessing, Patrick was reminded of the love that brought him into our family – both our love and the love of his birthfamily. He blessed him with strength to face the difficult medical journey ahead. He reminded him that he was a child of miracles.

When they came back to sit beside me, Patrick was just glowing. His daddy held him and I could see the love that they had for each other. I also knew, as I looked at Patrick, that he understood all that had gone over the weekend and was happy about it. I really believe that, although he was adopted, the Lord promised He would waste no time in making sure that Patrick received these two very important ordinances.

Since then, well, I can’t quite get enough of my son. I don’t know what the future hold, though I’m sure there are rough times ahead. But I do know that I was blessed with a very special gift and a very important calling in this life when I was given the opportunity to be Patrick’s mom. And I will never forget the day he was sealed a part of our family forever.

Coming Home

Well, it took a few days longer that we’d hoped… But on a grand scale we actually made incredibly good time at getting back home to Utah. The ICPC came through late on Monday… unfortunately too late to do anything about it. So – Tuesday morning arrangements began to be made for the air ambulance. We were scheduled to leave Michigan at 2 p.m. Wednesday. Since space on the plane was limited, and there were things to do at home, Howie flew home Tuesday as soon as we’d made arrangements. I stayed behind to tie up the last loose ends and to take care of Patrick.

Of course, the best laid plans… Weather and mechanical things put the air ambulance enough behind that they had to take an FAA required break… So instead of leaving at 2 p.m., they finally made it to the hospital at midnight. I did my best to sleep before then… but Patrick wasn’t too keen on that idea so I was pretty tired even before I left.

The trip home was a very unique experience. 3 flight nurses and 2 EMT’s showed up around midnight and talked to the nurses at Beaumont to make sure they understood Patrick’s needs. Then, we wrapped him up in the snowsuit I’d bought for him at the last minute and strapped him into the carseat, which had been secured to a stretcher.

We made our way out through the ER of the hospital and were loaded into an ambulance. When transporting an infant, their biggest goal is to keep them warm… So the ambulance was a bit like a sauna. It took 45 minutes to get to the airport in Pontiac.

They put me on the plane first to get settled while they got things warm and ready for Patrick. Then they brought the rest of everything along. (Everything means Patrick in his carseat and a tiny little vital signs monitor and a tiny size pump for his TPN). Plus the flight nurses. We rode home in a leer jet so the space was quite cramped, but pretty comfortable. There were two nurses, a respiratory nurse (to make sure Patrick didn’t get hypoxic), and two pilots.

We flew at 70,000 feet because there is less turbulance at that altitude, so the climb took forever. But Patrick, who’d been asleep since we’d put him in his snowsuit, barely stirred. Once we reached altitude, I got to trade seats so I was closest to Patrick. But he was determined not to wake up. I had to work really hard to get him awake enough for his feeding, and then he fell asleep again right away.

Since he was determined to sleep, I went back to the comfier seat myself and tried to get some sleep in. I think I slept for about an hour and a half, and then woke up on time to start recognizing the silhouettes of mountains. One of the most stunning sights from the flight was the moon setting over the rockies, seen through the front windows of the jet.

We landed at the Salt Lake Airport about 4:30 and it took about 40 minutes to get loaded into the new ambulance and up to the airport. We found the NICU at just about 5:30. The hospital staff knew we were coming, but had expected us several hours before. And, for some reason, the ambulance crew didn’t think to call ahead and came in through a back entrance they weren’t expected to use… so we caught them a bit off guard.

They did an exceptional job through getting us in. I guess that, although the hospital had been in communication with the GI accepting Patrick, that information didn’t get passed along to many people. So, fortunately, the staff at Beaumont had done a great job educating us and we were able to help provide the basic information they needed to get started with his care.

They did pull me out to do some admissions and orientation stuff. And right about then the stress of the past day and the flight hit me. I was so glad for a stash of food and water in my bag because for a few moments there I was sure I was going to pass out. Fortunately, Howie finally got to us (he’d missed us because we came in an unexpected door) just as I hit the non-functional state and was able to take care of the most crucial things there.

Then, with Patrick mostly settled, we went home to get some much needed rest. I would have liked to spend a few hours with him, but I’d about hit my limit. So we got home at 7 a.m. Boy was it nice to see my own car and my own house!

We slept a few hours then got up, put the 200 some odd pictures we took in Michigan into a photo album (Howie had all those digitals printed), and then went to Thanksgiving dinner. It was early afternoon before we made it back to the hospital but Patrick was doing pretty well when we got there. He wasn’t sleeping, he was just laying there looking at his new surroundings. (He’s in a much busier room and I’m sure was confused).

That night, he got to meet my dad, his grandpa, for the first time.

Now we’re just trying to get things settled. We brought stacks and stacks of pages from his chart in Michigan with us. But- as we’d been warned they would- for most information they are relying on us to help explain. Again, we are so grateful for those doctors and nurses who took time to make sure that we really understood everything from Patrick’s care to his treatment, tests, and diagnosis.

This is a bit of a big adjustment for us. Different hospitals do things in different ways. Of course, the hospital wants to do their own assessment, so we’re repeating some things. He has to earn his way back off of pulse-ox and back into a crib. But they’re also being pretty proactive in his care. They’ve tried continuous feeding… but it sent his output levels through the roof. So now we’re trying progestamil by mouth… and he seems to be doing fine with it. We’re hoping to be transferred into the infant unit instead of the NICU pretty soon… but that all has to wait till the end of the assessment period, so it may still take some time. Some of the fun changes in this hospital are that we are dressing Patrick ourselves and he gets a bath 3 nights a week. I got to give him a bath last night, and boy oh boy did he love the baby lotion massage afterwards.

We expect things to pick up once we make it through the weekend. Yesterday, as people came back from the holiday, we started to meet some of the important people who’ll be involved with Patrick’s care. Monday we expect to see the most progress as things are finally back to work as usual.