Yesterday Charlie turned 80 days old. Gestationally, he’s 36 weeks and 2 days. I was surprised how long it took for the anesthesia from the surgery to wear off—for days he was as laid back as Perry Como. But yesterday he suddenly came to and was alert as ever and even, dare I say it, very playful. He had two small poops during the day which was fabulous—the normal way, not in a bag. (Oy, so much for his privacy. I’ll try not to share such details during my speech at his Bar Mitzvah!) He was intubated again for four long days which he hated but at 10:53 this morning he had been weaned to the point where he could be extubated. I literally jumped for joy and screamed “YAY!” so loud I probably desatted every baby in the place. Soon we can get back to kangaroo care and other trips outside the incubator. Woo-hoo!
I’ve been having a jittery week despite Charlie’s progress. Fears about his future, my stalled career, grief over Oliver, basic NICU weariness, and so on. Charlie is surrounded on either side by micro-preemies who are having lots of problems and it brings everything back, especially because we were recently moved back to our original bay where Oliver died. We’ve now moved four different times. I was joking with some friends whose twins have stayed in the same place this whole time that they had an advantage—it's hard to move multiples but they move the singletons around like they're chess pieces. Then I spent the rest of the day feeling like I had betrayed Oliver by calling Charlie a “singleton.” Oy. Because I’m always wearing a badge that says “BABY BOY #2,” I get questions all the time about how Charlie’s twin is doing. This week even one of the neonatologists asked, one who was clearly not familiar with our traumatic entry into the NICU. When I respond that Charlie’s brother died the day he was born, they always feel so awful for asking at which point I comfort them and say that’s fine, I don’t mind. And I really don’t. It took me a while to realize that I actually liked people inquiring about Oliver because it gave him some kind of validation that he existed even though so few people ever got to meet him. Talking about him never bothers me. Our grief is more underlying that that, resting in the silence, surfacing at random moments like when I see twins interacting on the street and realize on a visceral level what we lost.
The new baby on Charlie’s right also lost his twin and the baby on the left’s mother died in childbirth. So very sad. Of course I don’t know any of the details. But despite my increased anxiety and the pain all around us, there are always positive, inspiring aspects to life in the NICU. Here are some of the lessons I’ve learned during the past 80 days that I hope to carry with me far beyond this experience.
1. Don’t panic…at least not too soon. Part of my shtick my whole life has been my tendency to assume the worst possible outcome, no matter what the situation. A clogged garbage disposal could elicit the same hysterical reaction as a major injury. My Internet connection is down for half an hour—where’s the gun? If Leah is ten minutes late for school, that will obviously start a chain of events that will leave her homeless by 20, right? I remember one time years ago when I ordered a pizza with some friends. The phone rang and without thinking I shouted in distress, “It’s the pizza! It’s not coming!” My friends still repeat that line to me as shorthand for my doomsday lunacy. But let me tell you—this attitude does NOT work for NICU parents. There are so many things that can go wrong on a minute-by-minute basis in the NICU that you quickly develop sensors to differentiate between real and imagined catastrophes. During the first few weeks I was terrorized every time one of Charlie’s alarms went off—which was about every two seconds. Oh my God, what does that mean? Is he okay? Is he breathing? What’s his heart rate? Nurse! Come quick! Now that I’ve learned what the constant symphony of beeps and buzzes mean, I shrug most of them off. Oh, his PICC line is occluded, it must be the positioning. Hmm, Charlie is bradying but I can see that he’ll self-resolve. Antibiotics are finished, time for the nurse to flush the line. If that desat stays in the 70s, I’m sure it’ll go up. I’m not saying that I never panic in the NICU, but I’ve learned to hold those moments off for as long as possible. It’s a life-saving skill that I hope to bring to all areas of my life.
2. Beware of first impressions. We’re supposed to trust all of our first impressions of people we meet, right? Bullshit. Being someone who is always resistant to change and someone who is going through such a stressful and lengthy crisis, I find that my internal alarms go off whenever our routine is changed. I develop an attachment to a nurse, doctor, or one of the NICU bays and then suddenly everything is different...again. I think nurses are the heroes of the NICU, they are truly amazing individuals who are doing so much more than collecting a paycheck, but I admit that sometimes an unfamiliar one will rub me the wrong way and I’ll be counting the minutes until the shift ends. On two occasions I was so concerned about the nurses that I talked to our social worker about the process of requesting a different one. But in every case my feelings changed by the end of the day. Style and personality issues faded as I watched their skill and expertise keep my son alive. Some of the medical personnel I had the most misgivings about are now among my favorites. I’m not saying I’d want to move in with every person who works in the NICU but I find most of them to be stellar human beings as well as incredibly skilled professionals.
3. When in doubt, reach out. Before these events, I was very timid about reaching out to others following a tragedy. If I felt I knew them well enough I might, but for other friends, acquaintances, and people I knew through blogging I worried that my wishes or condolences would be seen as intrusive or inappropriate. Who am I to comment on their tragedy or difficulty? I don’t feel that way anymore. Being on the other side, I can tell you how much I not only appreciate but am truly helped by all positive remarks aimed in our direction. Sure, there are the occasional people who are so freaked out by trauma that they end up saying something terribly awkward but that’s not the norm and who cares, anyway—I understand that awkwardness since I’m often guilty of it. In the past 11 weeks I’ve only deleted one person's comment from my blog. It was from a woman in Australia who said how sorry she was that Kendall and I were having to deal with the “terrible consequences of our own actions.” She believed (quite incorrectly) that what happened to Charlie and Oliver was because of our ages and as she went on it was clear she had an issue with women over 40 getting pregnant. I’m positive that there was no malicious intent on her part but after someone else replied she wrote more about all the scary things that can happen when older women get pregnant. While this may be a valid conversation to have, it was NOT one I had any interest in hosting on my blog. Besides the fact that Kendall’s early labor and Oliver’s condition had absolutely nothing to do with Kendall’s age, we already HAD our kids, it wasn’t like I had written a post about trying to decide whether we should have a child. But back to my original topic, I want to be clear that my thoughts here are not intended to produce any feelings of obligation or guilt. I’m not saying that you should reach out to others facing tragedies if you don’t feel so moved, I’m just saying that you shouldn’t be afraid to because you don’t know what to say or feel like you’re imposing. Trust me—you’re not. You may not hear back from that person, but your words are appreciated.
4. Learn to accept the unknown. Another big challenge for me in all this is accepting that there’s a lot we don’t know and some things we may never know. We got Oliver’s extensive autopsy report last week which gave us a lot of information but no explanation as to why he suddenly bled in utero or why Kendall went into early labor that couldn’t be stopped. We know that Charlie’s brain was damaged by his two intraventricular hemorrhages (IVH) but no one can say what that will mean exactly for him in the future. We constantly get told the range of possibilities but in most cases you have to wait, sometimes for years, until the effects of the IVHs make themselves known. This is a tough position for someone who craves the illusion of control. But it also makes it easier to surrender to the present. I don’t know what Charlie’s future holds, but I know how he’s doing right this minute. I know how much I love him. I know how he’s acting today and how I feel connected to him in profound ways. Being someone who tends to go to the extremes, I’ve been learning to be more comfortable with the gray areas. It feels a little bit like denial to me because I’m so used to living in the world of everything’s fine or nothing’s fine, but I’m going to do my best to accept what the present reality is and take it from there without panicking about the endless scenarios that could play out. Why not be optimistic and hopeful? There may come a time when harsh realities need to be faced and if so, I’ll address those then, not obsess about them now.
5. Express gratitude. I am keenly aware of all the people who are saving Charlie’s life every hour of every day. What an amazing thing, and I look for every opportunity to express my gratitude for their efforts. I am also awe-struck by the people who have reached out to us over the past 80 days and I thank them for taking even a minute out of their busy lives to show their concern. Finally, without reverting back to Doomsday Danny, it’s simply a fact of life (and one that I’m more aware of now than ever) that any one of us could drop dead tonight or be hit by a bus in the morning. I mention that only to encourage myself and others to never hesitate to tell the people we care about how important they are to us, to unabashedly say “I love you” as often and to as many people as we can.
But let's leave it to Mr. Fred Astaire and Charlie himself to show you how I really feel today:
What a beautiful post. You should really try to get this published... I think it would profoundly help others who have babies in the NICU. I couldn't agree more with what you've said!
I've been reading your blog for a while now and wasn't sure if I should post. After reading number 3, I now feel comfortable in doing so. =)
I think of your darling Charlie often and love hearing how he's doing. So glad to hear he was playful... how wonderful! Just a taste of what's to come! =) I also send my heartfelt sympathy over the loss of your beloved Oliver.
Posted by: Beth | July 17, 2009 at 04:16 PM
That pic has him looking the best yet. Very nice to see him getting healthier. Continued thoughts and good wishes to you, your wife, Charlie and everyone else closely tied to the three of you.
Posted by: Brett Hickman | July 17, 2009 at 04:57 PM
Danny,
You express yourself so well. I get so much out of reading your blog. Charlie is adorable. It looks like he's beefing up!
Love,
Julie
Posted by: Julie R. | July 17, 2009 at 05:19 PM
I was watching 60 Minutes a few weeks ago and there was a story about a micro-preemie who is now 11 years old. I say the story is about the micro-preemie, but it was actually about some physically disabled rich dude who decided instead of killing himself, he'd teach disabled kids how to sail on his dime. Anyway, the 11-year-old micro-preemie made me think of Charlie, of course, and that boy had grown into a big ol' boy. Yep, developmentally delayed, but healthy and happy and doing something starboard and aft on some rich dude's yacht. One day you'll show Charlie photos of his 2 lb self and he'll say no way and you'll say way, then it'll be off to dance class or somewhere.
Posted by: Erica M | July 17, 2009 at 05:31 PM
When I pray at night, I ask G-d to heal Charlie's brain, and help him to grow healthy and strong. I have complete faith
that G-d will heal him.
That is a beautiful picture of him you have posted today. Such a sweetie. From the picture he looks like he is gaining some weight.
Thanks for the update.
Posted by: Heather P. | July 17, 2009 at 05:46 PM
Absolutely amazing what our children teach us. Never stop learning from that little man of yours and your big girl too. Taking each day as it comes is in no way living in denial. It's the best way to get closer to our Creator. Taking each day as the miracle it is leaves us nothing but faith. Wishing you much nachas from your kinderlach, all three of them.
Yakira
Posted by: Yakira Heistand | July 17, 2009 at 06:31 PM
Oy Danny, Charlie is so totally adorable! It is easy to fall in love w/ his little tiny self, of which inside resides a great big wonderful soul that shines through his eyes! He is so darn cute! May he continue to grow in strength and health every day, and I need your snail mail address so I can send you a giant OY sticker to put on your fridge! Luv, your bellingham soul sis susie
Posted by: susie specter | July 17, 2009 at 08:05 PM
Holy shit this post is amazing.
Posted by: maggie may | July 17, 2009 at 08:10 PM
Such a beautiful boy, I could almost hear all those karolniks in heaven kvelling over him. Pu pu pu, he looks great, and very wise. definitely an old soul.
These comments are also wonderful..what more could one say after that last one.
Shalom
Posted by: judy frank | July 17, 2009 at 08:11 PM
Listening to Fred Astaire and gazing at the cuteness of Charlie--nice combo.
Posted by: Margie | July 17, 2009 at 08:30 PM
Your pizza anecdote made me smile. It sounds like this arduous journey has included some wonderful self-discovery.
My own miscarriages helped me learn #3. I couldn't agree more.
I'm so sorry to hear about Charlie's new roommates' sad beginnings. It always catches me off-guard when a woman dies in childbirth; what an unimaginable grief for her significant other. I hope the babies do well.
Mazel tov on the working toches. He continues to be breathtakingly beautiful.
xo
Posted by: Lori Kirkland Baker | July 17, 2009 at 09:50 PM
Danny,
There are many things that I could say about your post because I could relate to much of what you wrote based upon the unexpected and deeply destabilizing events that have occurred in my own life. None of them involved a child of my own, however. Although many of them did involved love ones.
I read this post when it first went up and hesitated with my original comment because I was so tired. Now, reading it again and listening to and watching the video that you posted, I am reminded of "The Singing Detective" and how profoundly my first viewing of the Michael Gambon/BBC version of it was. I still go back and rewatch it from time to time because there is so much power and inspiration in it, if one is of a certain turn of mind.
Which brings me to the thought that struck me as I listened to Fred Astaire sing to Charlie: everything that you are, that you value, that you love, and that you have become, up until today has prepared you uniquely to cope with and transform this frightening and uncertain experience of loss, love, and anticipation regarding your family's present and future. You can be confident of that.
I know it sounds portentous, but the video cracked open the vision of Potter's work and how you are making art out of the hand that your family has been dealt. Peace day by day and continue to transcend the fear and make beauty out of it.
And Charlie looks absolutely chubby and energetic! High five to that!
Posted by: La Framéricaine | July 17, 2009 at 10:02 PM
Dear Danny,
You have learned more and expressed it so beautifully in the past 80 days than most people do in a lifetime. You sre an incredible person as is Kendall and I know your Charlie is absorbing it all .... you can see it in his eyes.
Love,
Marilyn
Posted by: Marilyn Molnar | July 17, 2009 at 10:21 PM
Dear Danny,
Pu,pu,pu indeed! Also poo,poo,poo. Ain't it grand. He looks great, no tubes blocking the view. I could eat him up.
Love,
Cynthia
Posted by: Cynthia Reich | July 17, 2009 at 10:26 PM
Every insight is a gem. Charlie is beautiful and you are wonderfully human. Thank you again and again and again.
Carry on.
Posted by: suzanne | July 17, 2009 at 11:19 PM
Danny - Charlie is so yummy! I know he is still so tiny, but he looks so wonderfully chubby on the video. It is a pleasure to see. He is a sweet, adorable baby who is lucky to have such a loving and devoted father and mother! Love the post. I am so impressed by you. Sending lots of love and good thoughts your way. Love, Julie
Posted by: Julie Schreiber | July 18, 2009 at 12:14 AM
He's dreaming...really dreaming! Can you play Fred Astaire for Charlie in the NICU? Love to you Charlie boo! Terry
Posted by: Teresa Dovidio | July 18, 2009 at 12:39 AM
Yay extubated! Well done Charlie. I love the Fred Astaire. And I agree with the comment above, there is a touch of 'Singing Detective.' One of my very favourites.
I'm sorry you received that comment from the lady in Australia. But if she comments again, or indeed dear lady if you are reading now, please go over to my place. Scary things just happen I'm afraid. There isn't always a simple explanation.
I agree with all your lessons here and that singletons just get shuffled around more. I also kind of like people asking about G. Your writing is amazing, I wish that I could have got my hands on your collected NICU musings before my own NICU days. Which would have had to involve some scary kind of time travel!
Posted by: Catherine | July 18, 2009 at 01:41 AM
What a wonderful post! Your a great man.
Thinking of you and your wife and your baby.
F x
Posted by: Fiona | July 18, 2009 at 02:00 AM
Such a beautiful post Danny! Thank you for sharing your wisdom and your precious son with us. I am just so overjoyed for Charlie, you, and your family that Charlie's surgery was successful and he is on the mend! Bless his little heart (and tushy!)
Blessing too, to you, Kendall and Leah. What a loving and supportive family Charlie will (G-d willing soon!) be coming home to.
Posted by: Elise | July 18, 2009 at 02:13 AM
I love the part where he lifted both arms up. It looks like he was asking to be picked up. :-)
That's such great news about the poop! I don't know that it will fly as story-worthy when he's thirteen, but at 36 weeks? It's definitely applause worthy!
Posted by: Jane | July 18, 2009 at 06:27 AM
Wonderful to see Charlie looking so happy and alert. Seems he's getting used to being on camera and was asking for his close-up while waving his arms!
Your "five things" list is something we can all learn from. Wonderful that you could articulate that for us. I've battled the "all or nothing" sort of behavior myself for years. In my case it seems to stem from overly strict parents who freaked over every small transgression. The sort of people who once banished me to my room for an entire day because I made the mistake of missing the school bus just one time in 12 years.
Well, the next time I begin to scream at the computer over a slow download speed or am tempted blow my horn at the car in front of me as soon as the light turns green, I'll re-read your list of "five things" and hopefully calm down.
Best wishes for another good week ahead. Charlie and all of you remain in my thoughts.
Posted by: Pam G | July 18, 2009 at 07:42 AM
Charlie looks wonderful! When I pray for our daughter Annalisa (born at 25 weeks and now 30 weeks) every night and express gratitude for the little forward steps that she takes, I pray for Charlie as well. I hope that they will meet some day in the not so far future. Thank you for sharing your lessons, my husband and I learning the same ones as we advance in our journey in the NICU. You and we are connected in our current NICU universe.
Blessing to all of you.
Helena Seli
Posted by: Helena Seli | July 18, 2009 at 08:17 AM
The last few seconds of that video are amazing, with him waving those little arms around - so much life and energy! Sounds like you've had a few lifetimes of learning in 80 days (perhaps the title of the book you'll publish with these posts?).
Posted by: Shari | July 18, 2009 at 08:47 AM
Dear Danny,
Everyone's comments have been so thoughtful and spot on, that there's little left to say. But of course, I will...
Loved the picture of Charlie with his arms outspread. Was he acknowledging all of his fans?
Anyhoo, just stopping in to say hello and let you know that prayers for remembrance continue for Oliver, and good health for Charlie. And strength for you and Leah.
xoxo
Fake Grandma
Posted by: Elaine Soloway | July 18, 2009 at 09:31 AM
Dear Danny,
All have already said it, another very beautiful post you are sharing with all of us, and you deserve so many thanks in return for that.
Opening up to the world of your readers is thankfully bringing you back some of the things you need to go on in these challenging times. Opening yourself to self-introspection and gratitude is giving you, I hope, some of the resources you would otherwise be deprived given the turmoil the last events in your life have thrown you all in.
I am very thankful for your talent to do so. I wouldn't miss a post of yours for an empire, because you brought all of us into the tiny window allowed to visit Charlie at the NICU, in a safe way for him.
I was struck at your mention of the off-line commentator that you had to bar from your blog. I approve of your position so much. It is often very difficult for readers and commenters to remember where they are, because sometimes they just see themselves completely in front of their own screens, in their own lives and settings, and entitled to their own thoughts and judgements, whether those are valid or not in the light of the original post they read and comment on.
It surely makes the exercice of publishing personal stories more difficult, and not only for fear of how Charlie might approve at the time of his bar-mitzvah, keyn anorah, of you disclosing some pride over embarrassing details for his privacy - this is what parents are bound to do all the time anyway.
This is often that fear of forgetting that I am not only reflecting on my own thoughts when I am commenting, but also providing the blogger I deliver the comment to with some energy, be it positive or negative, that will prevent me from commenting on a regular basis (the other reason being certainly the time that I can devote to commenting on everyone's blog who would have left me with a strong urge to comment).
Thank you for sharing your five life lessons.
I am procrastinating on writing a post that I wish would be as beautiful as yours with the life lessons I am currently living with. If I ever manage to finally do it, be sure it will also be dedicated to Charlie.
Lots of love to all of you.
Posted by: Otir | July 18, 2009 at 09:39 AM
Charlie looks GREAT! So CUTE!
Tui tui tui!
Posted by: Karen | July 18, 2009 at 10:47 AM
Thank you so much for sharing. I just happened upon your blog and it brings back so many memories for me. Our son was intubated for 52 days, had a major surgery, spent his first 78 days in the NICU, and has now been home with us for 7 weeks. (He's doing great, by the way.) I wish I had your advice when we were surviving the NICU! I know our situations are not exactly the same, but I wanted to let you know that your post brought tears to my eyes! You and your wife and Charile will be in our prayers and I'll be reading your blog to keep up with his amazing journey!
Posted by: Mitzi Levering | July 18, 2009 at 11:57 AM
Dearest Danny and Kendall:
I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see Charlie looking so big and so present, looking around, waving his hands. I just kept oohing and ahhing as I looked at the welcome video. I know you can't WAIT to take him home. Hope you are having some wonderful kangaroo moments today!
Danny, Around the World in 80 Days will have nothing on you all! I see a book in your future. Charlie will autograph copies of course.
lots of love from NYC,
Susan
Posted by: Susan Buckley | July 18, 2009 at 12:02 PM
I have been following along with Charlie's progress but haven't written until now...I came into your blog via the Wilco connection, but now find myself checking in regularly to see how you, and mostly baby Charlie, are faring.
Thank you for your continued honesty and the bravery it takes to lay your heart open as you've been doing. I've always felt that in any given situation we basically have two choices: to deal, or not to deal. You have found a way to cope with extraordinary loss and stress with grace, humor, and humility. OIiver and Charlie (and of course Leah too) are lucky to have you as their dad.
And I love this last picture of Charlie, where he looks downright chubby. Way to go, baby!
Posted by: Joanna | July 18, 2009 at 01:02 PM
Charlie looks wonderful! Looks like he's dreaming about something fun. Glad to hear he is recovering from the surgery so nicely. As usual your words are inspirational and beautifully written. Thinking of you!
Posted by: Sally | July 18, 2009 at 05:41 PM
Danny. This comment has nothing to do with the sadness and joy you have had over the last few months, but simply your writing. You have touched so many with the clarity and emotion of your words.
Posted by: Neil | July 18, 2009 at 05:48 PM
Thank you so much for sharing and keeping us updated.
Posted by: Maria | July 18, 2009 at 05:55 PM
What a great post! What a great-looking baby!
Posted by: Melinda | July 18, 2009 at 06:45 PM
Reading today for the first time (Neilochka linked on twitter) and I wanted to comment because we also had a long NICU experience. Our kids were born at 25 weeks and our daughter was in for 6 months. You are so right about the NICU lessons. I have mentored some parents whose children are still in the unit and one of the first things I tell them is not to panic at each low number or alarm. It is hard to adjust to the possibly life threatening cacophony but it is usually okay. By the way, one day you may want to mentor other parents in this situation because I have found it a healing experience. Congrats on making it this far and on your beautiful boys. I am sorry you aren't going to bring them home together.
Posted by: kim | July 18, 2009 at 06:53 PM
You and Kendall have been through so much these last months, Danny...the Ups and Downs...Hard on the system, I know. Your little Charlie is so very sweet and such a fighter! I know your sadness at losing Oliver cannot be measured....My heart goes out to you all and know, though I haven't commented very much...(My own personal loss has undone me..) I do come and visit and go see the Videos on YouTube...I love how you use such wonderful music on them...
And thanks for your very very dear words about my flowers pictures...It has become my "art" now....! Love to you all, and a Big Hug to Kendall---The Birthday Girl!
Posted by: OldOldLady Of The Hills | July 18, 2009 at 06:59 PM
Wonderful post - a great read for anyone learning to cope with a NICU stay. And what a beautiful baby! My thoughts are with you and your family.
Posted by: Nina | July 18, 2009 at 07:34 PM
Dear Danny,
You're a riot. That's why I got addicted to your blog back when I first started reading it.
At first, I thought that the Charlie Experience was your big test in life.
Now, I'm leaning more toward the theory that it's your life lesson. And, from all the very positive things you've shared in this latest installment, I can see that you're really learning a lot.
If you ever get the blues, rummage through an old used book store and locate a book by Louise Hay titled, "You Can Heal Your Life." It's chock full of positive affirmations that will transform you. I promise.
You're a very lucky man...
Posted by: Gordon | July 19, 2009 at 12:12 AM
I get how you feel. I want to tell people i have three kids but really two but not really. then i suddenly blurt out that my baby died on easter and then everyone goes into shut down mode in where i say, "it's alright, well, it's not alright. okay, sorry i said it that way."
pretty much my conversations go like this. i'm a total conversation killer these days.
Posted by: gorillabuns | July 19, 2009 at 10:31 AM
I just wanted to add my voice to those who are sending positive thoughts your way on behalf of Charlie. It's fantastic the way he is progressing.
Your story sounds quite similar to that of Nicole Conn who documented her own experience with her premature son in "Little Man."
http://www.littlemanthemovie.com/
Posted by: Rachel | July 19, 2009 at 07:29 PM
Great things to have learned, I'd say. Also, very appropriate, I know, since I was vicariously a chaplain in the NICU of a big hospital in Connecticut one summer (the REAL chaplain that summer -- who does not have those natural "doomsday" tendencies I seem to share with you -- has been concerned but not overly worried about Charlie and happy to hear he's growing and doing well, which he's been telling me all along Charlie would). Oh, and I love you. And I love Kendall and Leah and Oliver and Charlie, too (despite never having met them. How can anyone who reads your blog possibly not?). Please tell Charlie he's looking wonderful these days.
Posted by: Emily Barton | July 19, 2009 at 08:18 PM
Bless your heart. Thank you for the reminders about awareness and presence in our lives.
As my father lay dying ten years ago this month, I too was so grateful for the gentle loving kindness of the professionals in hospital who were trying to ease his days. Sometimes I'd run to the store and come back with a bag of apples and a couple of bags of cookies - they always enjoyed a staffroom treat.
I will think of you today and I certainly wish you all well.
Take care,
Mary
Posted by: Mary | July 20, 2009 at 08:10 AM
So glad to hear Charlie is doing better. Your post, as always, is amazing! If someone can publish a blog about cook books you certainly should consider publishing a book about babies in the NICU!!
I love the bubbles, by the way!!
Love,
Marci
Posted by: marci karoll | July 20, 2009 at 09:40 AM
What a wonderful (as usual) post Danny. All of your "lessons" bring back such memories about when Yoni was born, but what got me the most was when you wrote about wearing a badge that says "Baby Boy #2." Yoni was also baby #2, which was very clearly noted on his isolette and on my wristband. It was very jarring to constantly see, and I know other parents were wondering where baby #1 was (there were so many other multiples.)Wow - 10-1/2 years and it's still so fresh in my mind.
Anyhow, Charlie looks so great every day - I LOVE your music choices - they are really so spot on!
Oh, by the way, I hope 3rd cousins twice removed will be invited to the bar mitzvah - because we're coming anyways....
Posted by: Barbara | July 20, 2009 at 04:55 PM
I have been lurking a lot, but I had to come out of my hiding spot to say 2 things today.
1) Lovely, beautiful, powerful post. You say it all so well.
2) Charlie looks so strong! Amazing what a difference a week (and even a few days!) can make. I wish him continued success and strength.
You, Kendall, Leah, Charlie and Oliver are in my prayers.
Posted by: kris | July 20, 2009 at 08:37 PM
Charlie is so damn cute. And the Pizza? I think your concern was valid. Great post.
Posted by: Leslie | July 21, 2009 at 12:33 AM
Danny,
I can't believe how much Charlie has changed! Thanks so much for the video. I can't wait to see your son again.
Posted by: Uncle Scott | July 21, 2009 at 10:15 AM
Oh Charlie, you are just adorable! Sending you lots of prayers, and well wishes from Tennessee.
Posted by: Tricia Hicks | July 21, 2009 at 01:50 PM
“It’s the pizza! It’s not coming!” ~ I really can't stop laughing. I can totally relate and I'm gonna have to steal it.
As I've followed your story and ached with you and celebrated with you, I couldn't stop shaking my head and wondering "How do people get through something like this?" Now I see, Charlie is getting you through this. He and Oliver are teaching you what you need to know. And you, in turn, are teaching us. I've tucked everything you've said here into my soul and am already putting it into practice, right here, right now. Thank you.
And I really can't stop laughing about the pizza...
Posted by: Rebecca | July 21, 2009 at 05:38 PM
Another great post. And I loved the video - what a check little yawn.
K x
Posted by: Kimberley | July 21, 2009 at 07:36 PM
God bless this child !
Posted by: yhdu | September 15, 2009 at 06:02 AM
How precious! As a parent myself, it would break my heart to see my child sick. Much more be confined in the NICU. My heart goes out for the lost twin and the mother who passed. May their souls rest in peace.
Posted by: Andi Smidth | July 23, 2012 at 10:21 AM