"Gale?... He smiled at me."

I think I fell in love with my son today.

I've loved him since before he was born, or at least the idea of him.   Today, though, he really became a person to me when he laid on my chest and looked up at me.  I wanted to crawl inside of him.  Everything about that face - the innocent eyes, soft cheeks, the lips that I will claim with pride, thank you very much - is perfect.

I thought I'd need him to say "Hi, dad" to feel like I had a relationship with him, the one thing I wanted more than anything.  Turns out I just needed his eyes.  And for that, all Asher needed was to get his phenobarbital level down to double the therapeutic amount.  Every day, he looks a little less doped, and a little more like your average baby.

Which he's not.  On good days like this, I have to remind myself of that.  I start imagining a life with him like I'd imagined two weeks ago.  It's hard not to when those eyes look into yours.

It's also hard when you see nothing but progress.  Other than the wires, two big things that would tell your average baby ignoramus, like myself, that something's a little off about him.  First, he's floppy and slow moving, even by newborn standards.  He doesn't grab your finger like other babies, and he has a hard time holding his arms up next to himself when he lays on you.  Second, he still doesn't cry.  It will be interesting to see how much these things change as the sedative levels continue to drop.

He's starting to poop after every meal, just like a baby should.  After his tube feeding today, my hand supporting his butt could feel the rumble in his pants.  As exciting as poop can be, there's nothing like baby poop, especially from a baby that hasn't been doing it.

Tuesday might be the start of a big test - feeding orally.  Everyone of us have secretions like saliva and mucus that get into our throats.  A healthy person will simply swallow these secretions without thinking about it.  For most of the past week, those secretions have stayed in Asher's throat, which you could hear when he breathed.  The fear is that this is because the part of the brain responsible for involuntary actions, like swallowing, is damaged.  In the last two days, though, he's been breathing quietly, giving me hope that he's started swallowing.  If he can swallow saliva, maybe he can swallow milk.

In closing tonight, I'd like to acknowledge the prevalence of pictures of my chest on this blog.  It's certainly been prevalent in Asher's short life, as evidenced by the hairs we have to pick off of him every day.  Some have said that they've seen my nipples more than any man outside marriage.  To that, all I can say is, you're welcome.