Birth + 3: Oliver is coming on and Michele is coming home

What an incredible three days of joy and pain it has been as we have witnessed Oliver winning the fight for his life. Our little inspiration has battled two collapsed lungs and remains connected to a tangled web of tubes and wires, but his spirit is soaring and his prognosis is better than ever.

He gave us a scare yesterday when his doctors revealed that they suspected a cyst on one of his lungs that, if verified, would ultimately require surgical intervention. He took his first trip of his life when he was taken for a CT scan to further investigate the cyst. NYU has an incredible neonatal team and one of the most accomplished pediatric lung surgeons in the world, so we could not have imagined a better team to make the diagnosis.

Dr. Kim Williams (the neonatologist who has been directly responsible for his case) came by to give us the news several hours later as we were standing over his incubator admiring his beautiful black hair. Dr. Williams has a soft manner and a delicate, precise voice that almost always sets us at ease. She speaks carefully and pronounces every word with precision in an accent that sounds vaguely Jamaican. We have found comfort in her manner and looked forward to her words.

This time however, she began with "the good news is..." and I could feel my body on the verge of disintegration. Dr. Williams, if there is bad news -- really bad news -- you might as well kill me right now. I could sense Michele's bated breath and I hoped my last act could be holding her tight to brace her for the bad news. Dr. Williams drew us a picture (literally) of what was happening in Oliver's chest and explained that the suspected cyst was not a cyst after all, merely a pocket of air that had yet to be fully evacuated. She emphasized how well he was responding to treatment and helped us understand the course of action for the next couple days. "Any questions," she asked, and Michele spoke for both of us when she responded: "OK, give us the bad news now."

"There is no bad news," Dr. Williams said with her characteristic smile.

By the end of the day, Oliver had the tube in his right chest removed and was further down the path to recovery. It may take a wee bit longer than we had hoped, but he should have the second tube removed in the coming few days and should be off the ventilator in the next week. Every moment is an eternity as we long for opportunity to hold our baby and feel the life pulsing through his handsome body.

His mother, in pain from the c-section and weak from six weeks of bed rest, has shown the stamina of a marathon runner. The time since his birth has been the most difficult for me and only after Dr. William's assurance yesterday was I able to be by his side without choking on my tears. During this time my bruised and damaged wife has been my rock, comforting me and giving me the strength to remain standing. As always, her timing is impeccable... she's there when I need her the most.

If she checks out this morning, we may have her home for the first time since August. Our home is frozen in time and there is still much to do as we prepare for Oliver's arrival but the warmth of her soul will bring our home back to life. She is an angel, and the Speight men worship at her feet.

For all of you that have sent such thoughtful emails, thank you for the burst of inspiration. We read them on our Blackberries as they arrive and they provide us with laughter and the good kind of tears. Please understand that we want to respond to them all, but our focus right now is pretty narrow. Thank you, Team Oliver!

Boundless Love,

Oliver and his entourage