Mr. Maximilian Fussy Pants.

Visiting the little dude today was lovely. Rafael got to hold him and it was a mostly warm, mostly calm hour or so. Near the end, the little guy had had enough and simply wanted back in his isolette. When the nurse put him back in, his vital signs all started going crazy and Max was being difficult. As it turns out, with the last intubation, he does not like being on his tummy if his head is turned to his right. It took the nurse and his parents a while to figure it out, but the moment he was turned onto his left side, everything was fine again.  It turns out that Maximilian has inherited his father's general attitude toward discomfort: whine and whine until it's resolved, then act like nothing happened. All in all though, it was a nice little time.  Tomorrow, an ENT specialist is expected to come by and see how Maximilian's airways are doing.  Ideally, what they'll find is that his airways are narrower than he needs to breathe. If this is the case, he'll simply need to grow more (which he is chubbily doing anyhow). If that's not the case, then it's most likely a simple question of waiting for further development anyhow.  One way or another, we're patiently waiting for Sir Fussybottom to find his way to breathing on his own properly.