These past six days have brought a whirlwind of cries, shouts for Mommy, groans, and multiple trips to the bathroom for almost everyone in our little household. The flu bug, or something evil like it, had gotten a hold of even little Mason. My sweet boy would throw up every time he drank his milk. He could keep down both Pedialyte and Gatorade and so we existed on that for 2 days. Through it all Mason wasn't even phased. He continued being his cheerful, little self as soon as he finished spilling out everything he just took in! Those sweet smiles are doled out like candy to an eager crowd on a 4th of July parade. I call him my "Dolly Boy" because he is just so darn sweet and is just a doll. God let us have his little angel to fill our hearts with a love so complete you just couldn't ask for anything better.
When I weighed him yesterday, he had lost .4oz from our last visit to the cardiologist. Not bad, I would say. His 02 sat last night was 82, without the oxygen. That too, is pretty darn good. As far as appearances go, you would never be able to tell there is anything wrong with him. The shirt he was wearing to church yesterday wasn't buttoned all the way up and I could see his little "zipper." When I pointed that out to Matthew, he got a great kick out of it. He never really looked as Mason's scars like that before.
Mason is scheduled for his first physical therapy visit this week. The therapist is hoping to work on his rolling over/tummy time in order to facilitate crawling. He already has a preference for standing, with help, and really hates to be on his tummy. I think a lot has to do with the fact his mickey button is pushed into him when he is face down. Although I don't think we really need a therapist, it can't hurt to help him get pushed along towards either walking or crawling. That will certainly be a site to see.
