So tiny. So many tubes and wires.

We're still in PICU.

Here's a riddle for you: What does my son have in common with the starving children in Africa? The latest news is that Jackson has, over the course of the past month and a half of being sick, lost so much of each of his meals that he is actually suffering from malnourishment. My baby could be on one of those Sally Struthers commercials. "For less than the cost of a cup of coffee a day..."

So the doctors have started him on some IV nutrition. Said IV nutrition, called TPN, is mixed up each night by a guy who only does it once a day around 6 pm, so we had to wait on our bag of TPN. I had visions of a guy in the basement wearing a cloak, standing before a giant vat of bubbling, mystery brew with a scraggly cat at his feet while he tossed in some eye of newt. In my mind, the guy who makes the TPN cackles like a witch and stirs the kettle with a giant wooden spoon. I'm sure it's far from accurate, but this is the story we made up this afternoon when my dearest friend Crystal was here visiting. Thank God for good friends. I really needed a mental break from all the heaviness in this room. I needed to laugh. I feel more like myself again. Far less rage-y.

If you're still praying for us, pray for farts. As soon as he passes some gas, we can give him food by mouth, and then as soon as he poops we can start thinking about heading home. We'd really like to go home.