I've been so obsessive about your respiratory issues for the past few weeks that I barely stopped to recognize how much you've grown. I looked back through some of my older letters to you. About how I described you as a shriveled old man. You don't look like that anymore. Today, I noticed that you looked like a baby. A tiny baby. You've become "one of them" and I don't even mind. 2 pounds, 6 ounces. Almost twice the weight you were before. You don't seem so fragile anymore. I used to be afraid at the thought of touching you. Yes, your lungs are weak but you are strong in other ways. Your brain is strong. You have a gut of cast iron. What's more, you are now at full feeds ahead of schedule, which will finally let your lungs grow and flourish (hopefully). They plucked your PIC line out yesterday. Your mother had to tell me before I even took notice. that bloody little snake wasn't in your arm until today.