Happy Birthday, Boo Boo! The story of Henry Part 4.

I can't believe I've let so much time pass without continuing Henry's story. I was  determined to do it before his first birthday but................ Well, today is his birthday and as has become his custom, he woke up at 6 a.m. He screams and screams until you pick him up from his crib, grabs his bottle and drinks like it's been days since he's been fed; but once he chugs about half the bottle down, he whips his little head around (because he does nothing slowly or calmly) and gives me this smile. Ooh that smile. It melts me every morning. Even at 6. He laughs and does this little bopping up and down thing. From that moment on, it's go time for Mr. Henry.
Though I'm just now picking up Henry's story,  it's rather appropriate that as I celebrate the anniversary of that momentous day, I think back to all that happened. I am kicking myself, that I didn't finish the story earlier, because my memory will be fuzzy. But let me tell you, the emotions are still there.
A couple of weeks ago was Father's Day and I added pages (as I do each year) to Andy's Father's Day Scrapbook. Since Lil was 1, I add a couple of pages each year of pics with Lily and her Daddy and a picture she's drawn for him. I cannot lay claim to this clever idea. I stole/got it from my good friend, Steph. Of course, last year's pages were blank. I was busy sitting in a hospital bed doing nothing in a very unflattering, ill-fitting gown. So, I had two years of catch up to do.
This year, I got to add Little H. (or Boo Boo as we call him at home. Don't think I've ever mentioned that on this blog.) As I was scrolling through an insane amount of pics on the computer, I also stopped to watch a few videos we took of him in the hospital.
I didn't realize which video I was clicking on but there it was.......the day he was born. ( I have to mention, I looked like I had been hit by a semi truck. I was taken aback a little, actually. But this is really about Henry.) So tiny, with so many tubes and wires sticking out from him. I'm holding his tiny hand and his chest is visibly beating hard. He had to really work for each breath. I had forgotten about that.
 The same little spit-fire that now climbs the furniture, falls, cries, gets back up and tries it again was a spit-fire from his first breath. I have tears right now because it's all just so amazing.
For being so early, we were told he was a good weight.  Yes, 3 pounds, 10 ounces was a good size! Of course to us, he was so tiny. The preemie diaper looked two sizes too big.
Thus began the next part of our journey. Being two hours from home, friends and family was hard. Living in the NICU basically was surreal.  My life consisted of sleeping, eating, talking the elevator down to the basement floor NICU (while I was still in the hospital) to watch Henry, hold his tiny hand (and eventually hold him) and pump.
I hate pumping! Hate, hate, hate it. I can't put into words how much I do not like pumping. Didn't like it when I had Lil and dreaded doing it again. Without going into unnecessary details, I don't make a lot of milk. It was so discouraging to watch the other moms come into the NICU with two bottles full of breast milk while I sheepishly shuffled in with my few milliliters of milk.
The nurses were amazing, though, and always reassured me that whatever I could give him was like giving him liquid gold. So I kept on pumping, every three hours. I know new moms usually breast feed their babies every three hours. But they can do it in the comfort of their home on the couch, not in a room with 6 other babies. I was determined to try. There really was no option to give up.
At this point we hadn't chosen a name for Henry. His isolet was labeled "Baby Boy Bauer". We had tried several months before to agree on a boy's name (we had already agreed on a girl's). Each discussion came to a halting impass, where I was usually irritated with Andy. I finally said that I did not want to talk about it anymore until I was eight months pregnant. Then we would decide.
Henry, who had been named Pickles Bean by his sister, was 6 days old and still did not have a name. Andy had always liked Henry and I had always hated it. I mean, I really didn't like it. I thought it was an old man's name and I didn't want people to call him Hank, which would be inevitable. There were two big problems besides the obvious. One: I had no boy's name I was in love with. Two: Andy was not to be deterred. My husband can be awfully stubborn. So the name I liked, not loved, was William.
I was being discharged the next day from the hospital and the woman from the birth certificate office had come to my room or called every day since H's birth to ask if we had picked a name. My fever had bought me a few days but a decision had to be made. Andy had finally left the decision in my hands. These were horrible moments for me. I have never been so torn over a situation before. If I gave in and named him Henry, I would be stuck with a name I hated forever. (I know this sounds dramatic. I was very hormonal at the time.) If I went with William, Andy would be disappointed. He didn't hate William. He just loved Henry. In the end, I took one for the team.
I have to laugh a year later. He is such a Henry!! How could he be anything else?
A weeks after Henry was born, I was discharged from the hospital. I stayed in another room in the hospital as a boarder. There were no nurses because I wasn't a patient any longer; but I could be close to Henry. It was super lonely though, and after a couple days, went to "the empty house" with Lil and Andy. The traveling back and forth to the hospital made it a little more challenging. But sleeping in a real bed with my family around me (and an awesome pool) made a hard situation mush easier.
Now it was a waiting game. Henry's breathing was better and would eventually be able to breath completely on his own. We were waiting for him to "wake up' basically. Gain weight and be able to feed on his own. This was hard for us because there was no "end date". Every baby was different. We didn't know if we'd be there for 5 weeks or 10 weeks.
I'm pausing the story for now and will celebrate this day with my family. A year has gone by and so much has changed. My little peanut who started off with breathing tubes and was being fed by a tube, started walking this week!!
He's made our family better and more complete in so many ways.  He has taught us so much about God's grace and God's goodness. If you ever doubt that God is good, just look at his little face. That's is God's undeniable goodness right there.
Happy Birthday, Henry! I'm so glad I didn't name you William.