Going Back Home to the Devil Children

My last day at l'hopital (for some reason, that is one of my very favorite French words to say) was a lot more chill. That last day is always kind of hard for me, because I know that I have to check out sometime, and I get sad that I won't be able to have total silence anymore. I know I have to go back home and face Hitler's Youth, as I've come to call my kids. And it really hit me that day how extremely EXHAUSTED I was. All I wanted to do was sleep. And hang out with my little man.

They took out his ventilation tube that morning - you can see where the tape that held it in place irritated his poor little cheek:

It was also a really fun surprise that he was out of his incubator and in a normal little bassinette thingey.

Ben and I got in all the cuddling we could before checking out and heading home without Gagey-Pooh. The doctor told us that we'd probably be able to come and pick up Gage the next morning.

We gathered up all of our stuff (they had to lend us this cart thingey to wheel all of it down to our car), including these gorgeous flowers I got from Ben's office:

And the flowers that Dad gave me:

His office sent these flowers to him, but he was worried that it was "gay" to get flowers when you're a man. So I inherited them by default. Which was okay with me. I am a lover of flowers.

That night was so weird, to come home without a baby. We all just hung out in the living room and watched The Spiderwick Chronicles. Megs got us a pizza that night for dinner, which was really, really sweet of her, considering she had a two-week-old at home herself. I don't know how she's doing all that she's doing - I am hardly functioning, and Gage is three weeks old, now! Lex told me today that she can tell how busy I am by my lack of blogging. I'm still in really good spirits, just superduperduper busy. Hopefully I'll get into more of a rhythm soon...