Eldest Daughter called at 1:30 to say she was on her way home from Philadelphia, and about ready to drop in her tracks. She’d been up until very, very late waiting to see what was going to happen with the baby, and then she and Austin’s mum had tried to catch a few winks in recliners in the hospital room, with the baby unhappy and medical staff coming and going. She just called again to say our grandson had arrived at CHOP and the doctors are going to operate in the morning.
When I last visited with the kids, a week or so ago, things seemed to be going pretty well. Austin had gained a bit of weight, and even though he was still spitting up, it was no more than the usual baby stuff. Early Thursday the baby started the projectile vomiting again, and was frantic with hunger. His mum would give him four ounces, and he’s shoot it across the room, and be rooting for more. Add to that the fact that he was becoming dehydrated and had dry diapers, and you have a very sick little boy.
When the kids first got to the hospital, the doctors were talking about an NG tube, which our grandson vetoed very firmly. If the food isn’t leaving Austin’s stomach, putting him (and his parents) through the insertion and cleaning of the tube was a waste of time. Another doctor suggested something else, and yet another came up with Plan C.
Dear God, let this surgery do the trick. Austin is three months old and only weighs 5 ounces more than he did when he was born.
thisendoftheswamp 
Agreeing with you on your prayer request! bigandlittlecreations.blogspot.com
Where little things also matter 🙂
❤ (((HUGS)))