Tuesday 9:38 p.m. ET

Well, the great disappointment of the day is that Lia and Eli did not come home. Until early this afternoon Eli wasn’t keeping her food down, and as long as she was vomiting the doctors were unwilling to release her. She ate again at about 5 this afternoon—ate well at that—without vomiting, the best efforts of the nurses who poured iron, hardly diluted, down her throat, notwithstanding. I took Julia to our ward play group this morning at about 11 and left her again with Addie and Callie LaDuke, who graciously kept her until about 7:45 this evening. Annie Burdett and her daughter, Lilly, came over at some point and Julia was thrilled to instruct two eager pupils in the dark arts. Julia and Callie took a nap together this afternoon, which must have been a cute sight.
We’re convinced that Eli will do much better once she gets home—just the boon of an uninterrupted nap will do wonders (by the way, Lia asked me earlier today what the nurses on our floor do, given that the desk and the corridors seem forever vacant; I responded that they sit in a crowded room watching a live feed of what is going on in each room—when they spot a patient who seems to be soundly sleeping, a nurse is immediately dispatched to take the patient’s vitals). It was really nice for Lia and me to spend most of today together. Andrew Davis (a Ph.D. candidate in astronomy studying the shape of galaxy clusters—nothing heady like law) and his wife, Lorie (a telecomuting editor), brought us a delicious and well-balanced dinner, complete with broccoli which I made Lia eat the lion’s share of because both she and Eli need the iron.
To me at least, Eli is looking better and better. She’s very sweet and seems really to be enjoying her comparative freedom from tubes and cords. Lia relishes holding her baby without fear of entangling appliances. Eli had another Ct. scan at about 2 this afternoon, according to which her head seems to be responding well to the operation. The doctors want to do an ultrasound to assess the state of her stomach area before she can come home (for some reason this could not be arranged at any time after 2 this afternoon). If Eli does well tonight—that is, if she eats well and keeps what she eats—she’ll likely come home tomorrow as soon as an ultrasound can be performed and read. I’m growing impatient—man’s response to interaction with the medical profession, I’m told, since time began. Earlier today I found myself singing a variation on Jean val-Jean’s sentimental aria from Les Miserables: “Bring [them] home!”