The Story of Henry Part 5

Today is the 6th of September. Today was supposed to be Henry's 1st birthday. Instead, I have a 14 month old who is babbling, walking, and basically becoming a little person. Though babies rarely come on their due date I kept thinking, "Today would have been his birthday! How weird. How different my life has become over the past year."

Even now as I type, I can't help but cry. Let me tell you. The flood gates have been opened and I don't know if they will ever close. I'm overwhelmed with all the thoughts and emotions swirling around in me. I'm such a girl now!

My daughter, Lily, is my joy. She is so incredible to me. She's so not like other kids. I look at her and my heart aches with the thought that some day she will move away and leave me. She's my little friend, my sidekick. I don't know how I could love her more each day; but I do.

Little Boo Boo.....he's my heart. I've had so much joy and love and heartache and frustration and surprises with him. He has definitely been more challenging a baby than Lily was. I think this is just his personality and would have been so whether he was early or on time.

Lily changed my life because she was my first and I experienced that special love for the first time. Henry turned my world upside down and I love him so much it hurts.

So for all those reasons, today is a special day because  I am focused on the love I have for my kids and for my Andy, who is my rock. It reminds me that my plans are not God's. And I am so thankful for that. I watched Lily and Henry play outside together today. My heart was full. I am so blessed.

On this special day, I will continue his story and hopefully come close to finishing. Hey, it's been over a year. How much longer can I drag this out?!

Henry was in the Roseville NICU for 3 weeks until they moved him to the Santa Rosa NICU. Each day I felt better and less sore from surgery. Being in a real house "the empty house" was so much more relaxing than being in the hospital. I missed being home. I missed my house, my dog, my family, normal life. And because we weren't just 2 floors away from Henry, it took more time to travel back and forth to the hospital. He couldn't breastfeed yet. So, I was still pumping. All this was exhausting.

There were a few issues with Henry that, for a preemie, were very common. So for him, they were "normal". He had blood on the brain (which in a post soon to come I will talk more about this). It was the lowest grade of bleed (which was good). This meant that it would most likely just absorb back into his brain, over time.

He also had a PDA, or Patent ductus arteriosus. Before birth, a baby’s blood is oxygenated by the placenta, not the lungs. Because of this, the circulatory system of a fetus is very different from that of a newborn baby. A small amount of blood goes to the lungs to nourish them, but most of a fetus’s blood bypasses the lungs completely. Instead of going to the lungs, blood flows through the ductus arteriosus, a hole between the pulmonary artery and the aorta) and out to the rest of the body. (Now, before you give me props on my mad medical skills, I must admit I googled the definition of a PDA. I understand what it is, of course. But there was no way I could explain it in a way that would sound at all intelligent.)

So when babies are born, this hole closes. But when they are so early, it doesn't always close. They could tell this because he had a heart murmur. This was one of the things that needed to be resolved before they could move him to the Santa Rosa NICU. Some PDA's resolve on their own, some are treated with medication and some need surgery.

The oxygen saturation in his blood wasn't high enough yet, so that was another thing we were waiting on. If his oxygen saturation dipped too low, he would beep. He beeped a lot! I longed for the day when my child wasn't connected to about 10 cords (this is not an exaggeration!) and wasn't beeping. We called his isolet the "space pod" because the whole top portion lifted off when we wanted to get him out. It made that sucking sound that space pod doors on movies make when they open and smoke comes billowing out with a shadowing alien figure lurking in the distance.

The nurses rotated quite a bit. We hardly ever got the same one twice, except for a few. They were all exceptional, so kind and patient. NICU nurses are very special people. We had 3 doctors over the weeks. I was so impressed with how they kept us up to date and so patiently explained things and answered our million questions or our overwhelmed blank stares.

Henry would open his eyes now and then, but for the most part he slept. After all, he was supposed to be in my nice warm cozy uterus for 10 more weeks, not a plastic space pod. We held him every chance we could; but preemie babies get stressed out easily. If there is too much or too loud of talking, if they are touched too much or if their body temp starts to dip, they need to go back in their warm isolet. So sometimes, we just sat and stared at him or touched him through the round openings in the side of the isolet.

I cried a lot during those 3 weeks. When I started I couldn't stop. There was this constant, dull ache in my chest that never went away. Andy, my amazing Andy, was by my side every moment. But there were times, where I just felt completely alone. I look at that person, year ago Jen, and I ache for her. I feel her pain again and it hurts. But He is the great Healer. He has turned my sorrow into dancing. And though, I remember the pangs, from great sadness has come great joy. Joy I wouldn't know if I had not gone through the pain. AMEN! Ok, done preaching.

And then the day came for him to go home to Santa Rosa. One day, the doctor was saying it could be a few more days, the next she told us to get our bags packed. We didn't know how long we would be in that NICU; but it was the call we had been waiting for. My mother - in - law had come up for a few days, so I wouldn't be alone and she could drive Lily and I to the hospital. Andy was back at work at this point. I was getting ready to go home for a few days, which I desperately didn't want to do. God knew I had had enough I guess, Andy and I both. We got the call, packed up the house and the next morning met the team at the hospital. It takes a team of people to transport a baby via ambulance.  I met everyone. They were all amazingly nice. He was in a travel isolet and all I could see was his little figure through the plastic window. The ambulance left first and Lorri, Lily and I left shortly after them.

When we drove past the sign that read "Welcome to Sonoma County", everything in my being relaxed. I was home. We were home. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. I didn't cry again.

I truly hope this part of Henry's story makes you stop and think about God's goodness, of His hand of protection on our lives, of how intricately and carefully He has formed our being. I must say this last thing. I do not understand how people can say a fetus is not a person. So many people  worked tirelessly to make sure my fetus lived. If Henry wasn't a person, why try so hard to save him? To decide to end a baby's life and have them go through the pain they do suffer through abortion is unthinkable to me. Unthinkable. Each life is precious and special and God has a purpose for each precious life.

Stay tuned for my conclusion in the next post. Here's a few pictures.

 Andy getting to change to his diaper and check his temperature

He was so little! Now he's climbing up on the furniture!