When I told the wee one his brother's name, we were talking on the phone and I was drugged to the gills with a variety of pain meds and flat exhausted. The wee one was having a hard time understanding me. Our conversation went something like:
HIM: What's his name?
ME: Isaac Sawyer
ME: Isaac Sawyer!
ME: (cringing in pain from laughing) Yes! You got it! Ike-a-saurus!
We were up to see Ike-a-saurus late last night. All of the incubators get covered like bird cages so the babies can sleep. We lifted his giraffe-patterned cover and peeked in at him. He was wiggling like crazy, I think having heard our voices.
He was grabbing at the CPAP and not thrilled with the feeding tube down his throat. I was thrilled to see the tube, though. Thrilled to know that the itty bitty cc's of colostrum I've been pumping every two hours all day and all night, are going into his itty bitty tummy. Apparently this is a big step because these tiny guys have immature intestines that are prone to blockages and infections. So fingers crossed that his tummy is just as strong as the rest of him.
The most perfect name ever!
The wee one is wise.