I'm a Beginner!

I think it's good for people to be beginners at something from time to time. I don't mean just "trying it out", though that's fine, too, but to begin learning something with the intent to become skilled at it. Cooking, origami, knife-throwing, whatever. It keeps one's mind open and spirit humble to be a student at the feet of an expert. I think it's good for the ego to mess up the perfect attempt.

Six years ago I began knitting in earnest. Apart from learning the basic knit and purl stitch, learning to be a Knitter involves a lot of beginnings. Fair Isle, sweaters, socks, short rows, lace, cables--you name it, there is always a new aspect to explore and new places to 'begin'. To develop a skill you always need to start from the beginning.

This weekend, however, I became a true beginner again and started from square one in a whole new area. At the same time, I kept a promise to myself that I would learn this new skill before I grow old. This weekend I learned to spin. On a spindle.

I remembered what it is like to be an absolute beginner at something. All of one's movements are awkward, pre-planned, and inept. It is a truly humbling experience to start down the road towards one day, hopefully, knowing something. I know that there is going to be a lot of mangled merino between here and my future skeins of glory. Luckily, after so many years of knitted patience, I know my own determination and I know how to learn.

It doesn't look great. I know it looks like something one might pull out of the bathtub drain. But it's a beginning!

Now, what do you guys know about spinning on a wheel vs spinning on a spindle? Because when I get some money together, that could be the next step!

Of course, when one is in the weak, clumsy stages of learning something new, it helps to be reminded of something you're good at.

Pattern: Lyalya Hoodie
Yarn: A bit of this, a bit of that. Mostly Knit Picks, Wool of the Andes in assorted Rainbow Colors

If you're looking for me over on Ravelry, my user name is sarahgraceknits. I'd love to see you over there! I waste waaaaay too much time on that website. Luckily I'm afraid of Facebook so Ravelry gets to be my only big time-suck.

The Big Picture Birthday

It wasn't the beginning we were hoping for, but it was a better beginning than we had expected. Six and a half weeks prior to his birth, I walked into the hospital with a ruptured membrane, gushing fluid and certain that this pregnancy was over. Obviously, I was wrong. We hung in there and at 29 weeks, 6 days Henry was born. He weighed 3 lbs 9 oz, which is rather big for one born so early.

He cried a bit at first, but it quickly became clear that his breathing was labored. He spent the first few days on the CPAP machine, then many days after on a cannula for breathing assistance. It was days after his birth before I was able to see his face.


I spent most of my time at the hospital in the early days. I watched him receive fluids through an IV because he wasn't ready to receive his nourishment through his stomach. He had IVs in his arm, then in his head. It was a big day when the IVs came out and he got his gavage tube. He was ready to start on what milk I could pump and supplemental formula.



I pumped every two hours during the day and many times at night because, let's face it, even a double-electric hospital-grade breast pump is not as efficient as a baby. I was never able to pump enough to meet the demand of a growing preemie. I still get a nervous twitch whenever I see a breast pump. At home I was either pumping, washing pump parts, or transporting dozens of containers of expressed milk to the hospital in my little cooler.


I went to the hospital as often as I could. I had to divide my time between the children I had been apart from for so long while on bedrest, and the baby I had to leave in the NICU. I would bring Thomas and Anna to the hospital with me, leaving them in the Sibling Care play area while I went up to spend time with Henry.

Experience is a hard teacher, but my time in the NICU with Thomas made this so much easier. I understood better what to expect, which questions to ask, and how to work with the process. I had great nurses who were supportive and encouraging. They had a lot of respect for me as a NICU vet and their confidence buoyed me up.

But then, suddenly, Henry came home. That week we had been expecting that he might come home on Sunday, maybe Saturday. Friday I dropped Thomas and Anna off at the Sibling Play Area and I walked up to the NICU. As I walked into the room, Henry's nurse asked excitedly, "How'd you like to bring Henry home today?"

Incredible. Really? He's ready? I was stunned that they would think that he was ready--that I was ready--to come home. It was a homecoming for me as much as him.

The process took hours, but he was finally discharged. He was home.


And now he's a year old. Technically. We'll celebrate now, of course, but I think that another party in November might be appropriate. Ten weeks makes a big difference in the first year and I think I'd like to mark both milestones. I'd like to celebrate the day he was born, but there is a part of me that would like to celebrate the point when he will have grown into an actual One Year Old.


All things considered, I'd just like to celebrate this little boy and his great big smile.

Transitions

It's been a month of transitions. We've moved from Psuedo-Spring, which is only spring because it is Less Wintery outside, to Real Spring. We've moved from Preemie Baby to Real Baby. We've moved from Hermits Entrenched to Errand Runners. We're actually getting out and seeing people. Henry has discovered that there is a world outside of our house and he seems to find it rather shocking.

We went to the NICU reunion last Sunday. I think it's the hospital's way of letting parents know that it is really, truly OK to bring your babies out among people now since RSV season is over. I think that for many parents it was the first time they were able to show their babies off. I met two of the moms I was on the ante-partum unit with at the hospital. Their babies looked amazing. I hadn't seen one of the babies since he was next door to Henry at the NICU. You can imagine how he's changed! There's a big difference between a four pound baby and a 14 pound baby.

Now that spring has come and our worries about RSV have passed (for this season, anyway--and you can just shut up about swine flu because I'm not listening)I'm starting to feel like Henry is a normal baby. I am still washing my hands like a crazed raccoon, but perhaps with less OCD frenzy. We can go out, have people come over, and let the older two kids mingle freely with other children. Normal. Sigh. Now I can start obsessing over how little sleep we're getting.

Now for the pictures.

Thomas has this crazy, over-the-top affectionate personality. When he loves you, he loves you more than anyone has ever loved you and when he hugs you, he hugs you more than you have ever been hugged before. He hugs Henry like this every day. Every time he does it we have to remind him that we hug and then we release. Don't lay on him, Thomas. I don't know that he'll ever figure out how to give a normal hug. He reminds me of that character in the movie Tommy Boy. "Brothers don't shake hands; Brothers gotta HUG!"

Here's a handsome kid. He looks like me. Only cute. And unbeatably five years old. Don't play this kid in checkers unless you're ready to get schooled. He plays with the big boys.

Here's Henry with his auntie. He finds her both fascinating and alarming. Most of us do, too.

Before Thomas was born, Rachel was adamant about NOT being called 'Auntie'. So, of course, we called her 'Auntie Rachel'. But after seeing her beautiful nephew, she quit caring. Spoiled all our fun. Here she is with her newest nephew, Henry.

Henry is now practicing sitting on his own. He does pretty well. I cannot wait until this kid can amuse himself. I'll be really excited about it until I find out exactly what he finds amusing. Then I'll wish he would just sit still again.

And now, Anna. I realized as I was going through my copious digital pile of photos that I need to take more pictures of Anna. She's finally figured out how to pedal a bike. I took a few photos of her demonstrating her new skill. In every one of the pictures she looks like her grandmothers. How odd to see them looking so young!

Henry's baptism is scheduled for Mother's Day. I am overwhelmed that we have made it this far. When I think of where we started last year in July, to Henry's birth at the end of August, I have to hold my breath when I realize how far we have come. We've come to this Spring by the seat of our pants, but we've made it and I'm glad.

We took a few pictures of Henry when he was in the NICU. I didn't share many of them here because they are so complicated to look at. On one hand they are so sad. There is this small, frail baby hanging on to life surrounded by breathing equipment, IV tubes, monitors, buttons and plastic. But at the same time, he is so fragile and so lovely and so tough. His ability to come through these challenges is so amazing. I'm thinking of posting them some time so that you can see how far he has come. I look at them and I am sad, but I'm also amazed at what people can come through when they are loved and cared for.

Baby Toys

It's been a busy week here at The Little House and I've certainly had my hands full. Too full. Henry has had a cold and I strongly suspect that he's working on an ear infection. He has been cranky and awake and I haven't gotten a single thing done all week. I'm looking forward to next week being much nicer since a virus simply can't last forever. So, I'll sip my whiskey and soda and dream sweet dreams of Next Week.

There's been something that's come up in my world that has really put a burr in my underpants. Needless to say, I've been unsettled in my mind and I've had a hard time putting it aside and moving past it. I'm not someone who spends time being upset in any meaningful way and so this has been something of a shock to my system. Of course, I can't talk about it, not to anyone, and I REALLY can't post about it on the INTERNET so it has been my burden to carry. I've been praying for peace and for my mind to be at rest, but it has been hard.

But I'll move on now to something I can write about. I want to hear what you have to say about Baby Toys. I was playing with Henry the other day and it occurred to me that he would be out-growing his baby toys soon ('soon' being a relative term) and that I would have to figure out what to do with them.

Most of them I don't care a whit about, but I was surprised to discover that I have a pretty strong attachment to some of them. My memories of the children playing with one toy or another are so strong that I cannot imagine parting with that toy. To get rid of it seems to be getting rid of a tangible part of my memories of The Babies that I don't know how I'm going to do it. I know that most moms have boxes (and boxes?) of impedimenta of their children's babyhood. I am just not sure that I want to keep lots of old things in boxes. I doubt very much that any of my kids are going to grow up and want any of it so I'll be keeping it mostly out of sentiment.

In the past I have taken pictures of things like my old stuffed animals so I could keep the memory and still let go of the item, but I'm not sure that technique is going to work for this situation. I'm wondering what you do? What do you keep? What do you give away? What do you throw away?

In the meantime, I made sure to take a picture of Henry playing with one of my favorite baby toys of all time.


I think it's called a Whoozit. I bought it for Thomas when he was a baby because he HATED being in the carseat with a red hot fury. I found that the only way I could keep him happy was with toys--lots of toys--or he would scream, scream, scream for however long it would take to drive some place. I would pile baby toys in the passenger seat next to me and whenever he would fuss I would toss another toy into the back to keep him happy. This toy was great. It has lots of loops for little fingers to grab onto so it was easy to hold and would keep him happy for quite a while. All of the kids have enjoyed it. I look at it and it brings back those early months of parenting like nothing else. For better or worse, I suppose!

Hospital: Redux

Ok, so I'm getting really sick of the hospital. If our Children's Hospital gave frequent flier miles for every visit, I'm pretty sure I could take my whole family some place warm for the rest of the winter.

We've been a bit under the weather these days. Anna had a slight fever one day; Thomas had a fever a day later. I thought we might get lucky and that Henry would escape with just a passing cold or fever, but sadly that was not the case. Saturday we started to see a little congestion with Henry. Nothing serious, just a dry cough now and then. Sunday he was doing a little more dry coughing, but it was still nothing that even hit my radar. By Monday, however, I was hauling him into the clinic to see if that weird wheezing noise was anything I should be concerned about or whether is was a result of a harmless cold--you know the type--a snotty nose draining in the back of the throat or something like that. He'd thrown up a fair bit of phlegm the night before, so I didn't think it was outside the realm of possibility. The doctor listened to his lungs and declared them clear.

To make a long, long story short, by that evening Henry had stopped breathing properly and was restless and wheezing hard. He would try to cry and end with a dry, barking cough which only made him cry harder. I tried all the usual things and then spent a couple of hours dithering about on the advisability of bringing him to the ER. I was reluctant to spend several middle-of-the-night hours in an ER, subjecting Henry to all manner of unpleasantness, only to be told that he was 'fine' and to 'keep an eye on him'. Finally, I decided that I wasn't going to sleep anyway and Henry certainly wasn't getting any rest, so I might as well bring him in and be told that it was 'nothing'.

Nothing, indeed.

I've found that there is something worse than sitting for hours in an ER waiting to be seen by the doctor on call. What's worse is going up to register your baby and getting a whole lot of attention all at once by everyone who's available.

It turns out that croup causes a lot of excitement when small babies have it.

The doctor told me her diagnosis and all I could think was, "Croup? Seriously? Didn't Anne Shirley fix it with some humidity and ipecac?" I thought it was sort of like whooping cough--one of those antique illnesses that no one got anymore. Apparently they do.

We were finally able to come home after 13 hours and a LOT of medical intervention. He was given two doses of a steroid, among other more dramatic things, which is making him a little restless. He still has a wheezy cough, but he is able to breath without too much effort. They predicted that he will be right as rain in about five days, give or take. Despite my own bone-crushing cold and fever, I am still awake, listening to him breath and fuss a bit in his sleep. I am tense, though relieved, that the worst of this illness has passed.

I'm sure there are those of you who know all about this sort of thing and would have handled the whole incident with poise and aplomb. I envy you. This was likely the second most frightening thing that has ever happened in my life and I hope to never, ever have to repeat it. I'm an optimistic person, in general, but this time I am seriously out of sunshine. O.U.T. If Pollyanna were here, I'd push her to the ground and maybe take her lunch money.

Sometimes it seems like I have a long, long life left to live. Sometimes I wish I were already 90 years old. I think that by the time I'm 90 I'll finally be able to catch my breath and relax.

Winter is Not for Sissies

We've been enjoying cold winter temperatures here in the midwest. It's the kind of cold that freezes your eyelids in place when you go out to get the mail. Luckily, Henry has been totally warm. Whenever he leaves the house, he's wearing this soft, soft sweater.


You'll remember back in July when I was admitted to the hospital Allison from Pretending Sanity sent me a lovely care package of yarn and a pattern. It kept me busy during many long hours as I sat in bed, looking out the window at downtown St. Paul. I was so thankful for that act of kindness. It kept me positive, doing something with my hands as I hoped for a healthy baby to wear this little sweater.

Happy day, indeed!

Photo of the Day

I am so embarrassed over how long it has been since I've last posted. I can only blame the baby, so I won't blame anyone at all. However, a quick update on Time-Eating Baby will show that he is now 11 lbs 5 oz. He is three times his birth weight. Can you believe it?

I'm working on a post for the Year in Review. It'll be the next big post, but it's taking some time to work on. There's a fine balance to be struck when writing about highly charged things. I want to talk about how this last year effected me, but I don't want this blog to be an emotional Kleenex, either. I have friends for that sort of thing.

In the meantime, here's a picture of Anna. She was playing Pirate and dug up this old clip-on tie that was in Thomas's room. She proudly clipped it on and said she was "just like Daddy"! That's true. Or it would be, if Daddy were a pirate.

How It Gets Done

Problem: I don't have much time to knit any more.  But, I really want to finish Rachel's mittens.  Usually I have a little time at the end of the day to work on a project, but when your Knitting Hour collides with Baby's Angry Hour (read: 2-3 hours) something has to give and it's always the knitting.  

Solution: Thank goodness Henry likes my fleece pouch.  Thank goodness it's so simple to use a sleep deprived mom can use it!

Forgive my sullen immigrant expression.  I resemble my great-grandmother who was an immigrant and she never looked so sullen.  Really, I was simply intent on getting the greatest quantity knit while the baby was content (Commando Knitting).  I'm sure that's why our ancestors looked like that in the old photos.  They had many more babies and much more to do.  My particular ancestors had to do it on a diet of cabbage and corned beef on top of it, too.  I pity those moms!  I bet they had to knit while standing over a wood burning stove and frying bacon--and no fleece pouch for the babes.  Times have sure changed.

Stunned, but in a Good Way

First, I want to say Happy Birthday to my Anna who is now a big 3 year old.  She is by far my most laid-back child, but she is still full of energy and determination.  She is so easy to love.

I'm sure that if you have been following long with Henry's story that you will be happily surprised with the news that is coming next.

Henry has finally caught on.  He is finally a Good Eater.  It was touch and go the first week.  He was hostile and angry the first days as he worked to get my milk supply up.  After ten weeks of solely pumping my supply wasn't fabulous, to be sure.  There were nursing sessions that seemed hopeful, but for the most part he didn't seem to be nursing well and he never seemed contented.  We weighed him at the clinic after a week and found that he hadn't gained any weight at all.  Since he wasn't loosing any weight, our doctor thought he could have another week to try.  Her tone was rather neutral--He wasn't loosing weight, which was good, but it was time for him to "fish or cut bait".  At 42 weeks, we had certainly been patient enough with him.  I brought him in again on Friday for another weigh-in and found that he'd gained an ounce and a half!  We were very encouraged.

Today we went in again (!) and found that he had gained a whopping six ounces over the weekend!  So, I think breastfeeding is working out after all.  Really, I'm as surprised as you are.  And THANK GOD.  We figured out the cost of formula feeding and it would cost approximately  $130 for Henry to get 4 oz bottles, to say nothing of the cost as he gets bigger.  How do people afford this?  That's more than what we spend on a week's groceries for our WHOLE FAMILY.

I'm so, so glad that this is finally working out.  He will still need to get two high-calorie bottles a day because of his prematurity, but it will be so much better (read: cheaper and easier) to breastfeed the rest of the time.

If you listed closely, I'm sure you can hear my sigh of relief.  Exhale.

Baby-Feeding

It has not been easy to feed this baby. I won't belabor the point by listing off all of the things we've been though to get Henry breastfeeding, but I've reached the point where I'm hanging on by sheer stubbornness and force of will. This is my last week.

I started out on this path pumping and waiting and pumping and trying to nurse because it's really the best thing for me and for Henry. I know how great breastfeeding can be so it wasn't hard. I moved past my best intentions and started relying on patience. I figured I could wait it out and that eventually this would work. Past patience I relied on blind faith that somehow this would take off and that Henry would be able nurse eventually, provided I could keep a supply for when he was ready. Past blind faith I relied on determination--This WILL work, provided I could keep the supply, wait it out, and keep giving him opportunities to practice. Now I'm just being stubborn. I don't know how to quit. I get just enough encouragement from Henry to keep plugging away, but not enough to make this worthwhile. It's just enough success to make me hope that by next week (it's always well, maybe NEXT week. . . ) he will be better.

My honor is satisfied. I know I've put my full effort into this and I know I have done my best. I know that there is nothing that I could have done differently, though I obviously wish there could have been a different outcome. I have been patient and worked hard, but right now it doesn't look promising.

These are my goals for the week: I will not get emotional about this. I will keep pumping as needed to keep up my supply. I will nurse Henry as he is able and I will give him a bottle if he isn't alert enough to nurse every three hours. At the end of the week I will bring him in for a weight-check. If his weight is suffering and he hasn't improved his performance at feeding times, it's off to Target I go to spend his college money on formula. I may spend the rest at the liquor store on some really nice whiskey.

Cheers.

Finished Project Report

I didn't mean to leave such a bummer post for so long.  We've been busy with a growing baby.  He has a weight-check appointment this evening and I'm expecting him to be near nine pounds.  It certainly feels that way as I carry him around in my sling.

This is what I finished today.  The yarn was a gift from Allison at the beginning of my hospital stay this summer.  I actually finished the sweater when I was in the hospital still, but I just bought buttons last night.  This sweater is so soft.  The yarn is Blue Sky organic cotton.  I have a wee bit of yarn left and I'm wondering if I could knit a washcloth for Rachel.  She doesn't have a dishwasher so she might like a special washcloth.  Organic, even.  

When Henry wakes up again I'll make him try it on.  I think he'll even wear it to his doctor's appointment tonight!

Grieve

I knew from the beginning that Henry might be my last baby. Apart from having high-risk pregnancies and harrowing deliveries, we felt like three children would be a good fit for our family. We hadn't decided for certain, though, and had planned on leaving the door open for a couple of years to see if we might find that our family had room for another child after all.

After our misadventures this summer, however, it would be irresponsible to take the risk of becoming pregnant again. It was a miracle that I stayed pregnant for so long after my water broke. And I don't say that lightly.

What happened for Henry came very close to being very bad. I can't imagine how this could have ended differently and still have been "okay", even though it has been difficult to go through. The decision has been made for us, it would seem. And even though I knew from the beginning that this could be my last go at having a baby, I find that the idea makes me pretty sad.

I wonder if women are always a little sad, or wistful, when it becomes apparent that they've had their last fuzzy headed baby. A friend from college was one of 13 children and when her youngest brother was three, it became clear to her mom that this would likely be her last child. And she was sad. After 13 babies, one whould think that she would be a little relieved to close the door on nighttime feedings and toilet training, but I also think I understand. Of some things, there is never enough. How could you ever have enough of that warm little weight snuggled on your chest, fluffy baby hair rubbed against your nose? After three or thirteen children, it is still the End and I guess you always wonder who that "One More" child would have been.

I certainly feel the loss of the healthy pregnancies and babies that most women expect to have. I try not to think about it too much because it just upsets me and I'm not sure there's anything to be gained by getting angry or sad or feeling like I've been cheated. It is what it is and I'm satisfied by the good outcomes my babies have had. But I need to let go of the fourth baby I felt entitled to choose along with the healthy pregnancies and the robust newborns and the carefree cold/flu season.

It will be a long process, one that starts with moving my baby girl clothing out of storage and into the home of someone who can use it. I walk by those tubs in the basement marked "Girl: 0-6 months" and I know that they will have to go. If you loose your left leg, do you still keep the left shoe when you buy a new pair? There won't be another girl to save it for and I find it as unnecessary as the proverbial left shoe.

It should go, and it will. But not yet. Most of it will likely get saved for my sister in law Rachel, but I am strongly repressing the urge to give it to my friends who have baby girls already. I love seeing the hand-me-downs running around on little ones and it might be too much to have to wait for Rachel to have a baby (who may have only boys!).

Having the choice made for me is one part blessing, another part burden. I'm not sure which has the greater share. After some distance from the events of the summer I'll be able to close this door with greater clarity and peace. I think I'm looking forward to that.

Fall Clothing

Do any of you remember wearing heavy-weight sweater tights when you were little?  For two years now I've looked for these tights so Anna can wear her twirly dresses in the winter without freezing her knees.  In lieu of these tights I've put leggings under her dresses, but I'm wondering if these tights are still available.

Also, as of last week Henry was 6 lbs 7 oz.  He gained a whole pound in a week!  This week I'm guessing he'll be about 7 lbs.  He's quite the little man!  Right now his whole world is sleeping, eating, diaper changes and fuzzy sleepers.  Not too bad if you ignore the occasional assault by his loving brother and sister.

Tricky Questions

We don't take Henry out much.  He was discharged from the NICU right at the beginning of cold and flu season so we need to keep him out of public places.  Besides, he needs to conserve his energy for growing.  One place I do need to take him, however, is the clinic for weekly weight checks.  The doctor needs to make sure he is gaining weight appropriately and adjust his calorie intake as needed.

We had an appointment last Tuesday and while I was there, something was brought to my attention by the other patients in the waiting room.  Five or six people must have asked me how old Henry is and I had no idea how to answer!  At first, I just said he was six weeks old--which is true--but anyone who has ever seen a newborn can tell that my wee five pound baby is not six weeks old.  Then I said that he was six weeks old, but that he was born premature.  I don't mind sharing what happened, obviously, but I don't know if I'm giving them more information than they want and I'm not always up for a long conversation about HOW early he was, HOW long he was in the hospital, HOW much he weighed when he was born, etc.  I can certainly chat someone up once in an evening, but five or six times?  I'm not sure I'm up for it.

This is really a non-issue, though.  We'll be taking him to the clinic once a week and that will be the extent of his outings until he is larger and his corrected age won't raise so many eyebrows.  And it's not like I find the questions or the conversation offensive or distressing in any way.  It's just a lot to talk about with strangers in a waiting room.  Over and over again.  Sometime, though, it's just hard to know what to say.

Infant Conspirator

I think Henry is conspiring against me.

I'm sure most mothers think this is true of their babies, but I have evidence.

Henry sleeps all day. Deep, heavy sleep broken only by his baby grunts and gurgles. It's nearly impossible to wake him to nurse for most feedings. I am usually able to wake him enough to take a sleepy bottle of breastmilk or formula, but that's it. I'm assuming that this is due to his prematurity and that his alertness will improve as he grows closer to term.

Despite days of bottle feeding and pumping, the last two evenings Henry has decided to be AWAKE! with the ALERTNESS! and in a desperate, crying need to NURSE! and to nurse MORE! Really, just like a real baby.

This is the only time during the day that his behavior resembles that of a regular newborn and I am wondering this: WHY, Henry, WHY would you pick the most aggravating part of a newborn's day to start behaving like a full-term baby?

I'm pretty sure I have enough milk--the other night I fed him as much as he wanted and I still sat down and pumped a record amount afterward. I am left to believe that Henry is sleeping so much during the day so that he will have plenty of energy to keep me occupied from dinner through the kids' bedtime.

If anyone had any theories or helpful hints, I'd be glad to hear them!

A Second Helping of Baby Cutie-Pie

I hope you'll forgive me the indulgent display of baby pictures.  I've waited a long time to have adorable baby photos to share.  The early photos of this child wouldn't have had the same effect as these do.  Isn't he cute?

So far, wee Henry sleeps a LOT.  Normally, this is a trait to be envied in a baby, but the result around here is mostly frustration.  He won't wake to eat like he should and so it can be difficult (read: frustrating, impossible, time-consuming) to get him to nurse.  I've given him two bottles already because I couldn't get him to wake for a feeding and it had simply been too long to let it go any longer.  He's still pre-term (35 weeks last Thursday) so I'm hoping that his drive to eat (and wake) will improve over the next couple of weeks.  Right now he's like the sleepiest newborn you've ever known. . . on valium.  

Homecoming

The day has finally arrived!  Henry is home!

He came home Friday, to my surprise.  The night before he had his 12 hour scan test where they monitor his vitals to make sure he isn't dropping his heart rate or his breathing and that it's safe to bring him home.  I was worried about this one.  But I'll save you the drama by saying that I didn't think he would pass and that it would be still more days before we could bring him home, but I walked into the NICU that morning and the nurse asked, "So, how would you like to bring Henry home today?"

You bet.

It took way longer than it should have, but finally, FINALLY, Henry was discharged and we could bring him home.

When it came to leaving, I had both Thomas and Anna with me, Henry in his car seat, and several bags of Henry's things to bring home.  They offered to have one of the care assistants meet me out front with Henry and his impedimenta and I happily accepted.  But I looked at Henry, sitting in his car seat, and I considered how many hours it had taken to get him discharged.  Then I picked it up and said, no, I had better bring him with me.  I didn't want to risk the hospital screwing it up and having to spend another 4 hours trying to get him out the door.  No, I was taking him with me.  I could leave his blankets and clothes behind, but I wasn't going anywhere without my baby!

As I drove out of the parking lot I thought of the weeks and weeks I had spent in the hospital (7) and the weeks and weeks Henry had spent in the NICU (5).  I thought about how Saturday would be the first day in months that I wouldn't be going to the hospital.  I remembered it all and I started to cry, though only a little because I didn't want to have to explain to Thomas why I would be crying.  So much has happened and now we can finally try to settle back into our new life. 

I've had a premature baby before and I know that the next few months will be long ones.  But for now I'm not going to worry about it.  For now it's enough that Henry is finally home and all is well again.

Henry and Thomas

Henry and Anna (Henry is just over 5 lbs)

Upswing

Are you ready for some good news? For a change?

Henry has really gotten the hang of nursing! He just seemed to "click" with the idea of sucking and swallowing (and breathing) and has had a very good run of oral feeding. He got his first bottle at 1 a.m. last night and he did very well at that, too. The nurse practitioner who is in charge of Henry's case said that if he continues to do well he may be ready to come home this weekend. Did you catch that? This weekend.

I'm bringing in his car seat when I go in again this afternoon. Preemies need to have a "trial" in their car seat, hooked up to monitors for a period of time (15 min? 20 min? I can't remember what happened for Thomas). They want to make sure that their position in the car seat doesn't cause them to have apnea spells. Henry will also have another scan where he will be hooked up to very sensitive monitors for 24 hours and the doctors will see if he's having spells of not breathing or dropping their heartbeat that are too brief for the regular monitors to catch.

If he passes all of these tests, then he will finally be discharged and allowed to come home. Our house, of course, isn't anything to look at right now and is causing me more than a fair share of stress as the end of our remodel keeps getting pushed back. Everything is in disarray as we wait for the end of this (horrible) project. But I don't want to think about that right now. All I want to think about is that our time at the hospital may be coming to an END!

Hooray!

Babies Sleep

It's a big day for wee Henry.  He's been practicing nursing for a few days now, but today he actually got some milk for his efforts!

Babies don't develop a reliable suck-swallow reflex until they're about 35 weeks.  Henry is showing signs that he is getting ready for life outside of the hospital.  He is over 4 lbs now and you can see by the picture that he is getting chubby cheeks!  I congratulated him on looking more like a baby and less like a fetus.  Perhaps that's only funny in the NICU.  When these babies are born so early they don't look like the babies you typically see strolling around malls in car seats and strollers.  Slowly, though, they grow and you start to see the baby they are going to be.

They have taken him off of that caffeine-like medicine.  He is still having the spells where his heart will stop beating or he will stop breathing for a bit, but the nurses don't seem concerned.  He bounces out of them pretty quickly and without intervention.

I have hopes that Henry will be home in about three weeks.  It could be as early as two weeks, but I'm not holding my breath.  And I'm willing to give him all of the time he needs.  Premature babies are more challenging to care for once they're finally home.  It's a pain to drive in to the hospital every day, but I am appreciating the 24 hour nursing that Henry has while I take care of things at home.  I can't wait until he is ready to come home!

The Land of Milk and Honey--but Mostly Milk

I don't know how many of you have been praying for me, but I thought you would be interested. My milk supply has nearly DOUBLED in the last two days.

I used to sit down and pump about half an ounce. It didn't matter much whether it had been two hours since I last pumped, or three. I would sit down and pump about half an ounce either way. Today I've been getting closer to a full ounce every time I pump (which is about every two to three hours)!

I'm still behind what Henry is needing, but it is extremely encouraging to see that my supply can go up and that I can hope to be able to meet his milk requirements when he's big enough to nurse.

So--Hurray!