It's 4am. I'm beyond tired. Beyond emotional. Beyond being able to function aside from the pumping I'm doing. I do not have the energy to walk down to the nicu one more time. But my milk came in with the last feeding at 11, so I have to pump to keep my supply up. He has plenty of pumped milk with him down there, and they will feed him by syringe when I don't make it to the 5am feed.  I'm pumping and trying to stay awake as I listen to The Husband snore on the couch by the window.  I was looking through pictures I've taken over the last couple of days, and I realized something:  I have few words when it comes to watching The Husband with our newest babe. Every time I see him hold Oliver, my heart swells because he ADORES that boy. Every time I see him gently rub their noses together or cuddle him close or speak softly to him telling him how much he loves him, I swoon.  He's kind of over-the-moon for our Olli, and I'm kind of over-the-moon for them...