I’ve been waiting to write this article for three and a half months.

On Monday evening, we finally brought our Little Lion Man home.

He came with a sea of cardboard boxes, one hundred feet of plastic tubing, several prescriptions, nursing care, portable suction machines, feeding pumps, an air compressor, emergency oxygen, feeding bags, and more syringes than you can count. But he is home.

And home is good.

When Pharmaquip showed up with the truckload of medical gear the morning before he was discharged, I chuckled a bit remembering all of our “Operation Make Room for Baby” renovations to make our two-bedroom row home home fit four. I hadn’t included 450 suction catheters in the ‘baby supply’ mix.

Our dining room is now the Little Lion Den. It’s a bit more spacious than the crib nook in our bedroom and able to comfortably seat a nurse overnight. While Pat and I were happy to open our home to other people who are going to love and care for our son (he IS a charmer), we weren’t really open to sharing our room with them. {We think they appreciate that.} Dinners are back at the kitchen counter and a yet-to-be-assembled table for the patio. That’s if the pressure-cooker humidity characteristic of Baltimore summers keeps away.

Slowly but surely, we are finding our rhythm. The little engine that could mentality goes a long way toward overcoming those nerves that tickle the back of my throat sometimes. Suction in a moving car? I-think-I-can-I-think-I-can-I-think-I-can.

Coming Home - Little Lion Man

Getting through those moments make the small things – like morning play time – all the more sweet.

While he was in the NICU, I used to turn on Pandora and sway with the little guy to calm him at night. For hours. A lot of the nights run together, but the night after he came off the ventilator was one of those movie moments. You know, the ones that are perfectly scripted. This particular one came complete with its own soundtrack no less. The room was dark and oddly quiet with the ventilator alarms not singing every few minutes. Shifting weight from one foot to another, I could sense the exhaustion tidal wave headed my way. **WARNING. WARNING. ** I was so tired I couldn’t even hear the music playing. All of a sudden I heard the chorus of One Republic’s Good Life.

Oh, this has gotta be the good life
This has gotta be the good life
This could really be a good life, good life

The warning bells subsided. Welcome to the good life, little man.