Luke and his love affair.

I'm not sure if I ever posted about Luke's love affair with his bottle. But I definitely have to get that in the book. Because they were quite a pair, Luke and his bottle that is (it started around ten months, prior to that...not so much). They would fall asleep in each others arm every night and nap time. Since they got such a late start I let him keep her till he was two, don't hate. Holding each other so close, drifting off to sleep.

And this is our lawn after we got home from Philadelphia (we were gone from Halloween to Christmas having baby Luke). The squirrles were so proud of all their work. I picture all of them up these oak trees cringing/sobbing while Chad and Owen destroy their harvest.

Mr. Luke. I've always loved this picture of him, he's just pulled out his NJ tube (he had several complications from his surgeries). Doesn't he look proud of himself. Little does he know that directly after taking this photo we are on our way to the ER. For six hours of him being strapped to a table that slides into a metal tube and turning 180 degrees, four different radiologists trying to get his tube replaced exactly. All while he is crying hysterically and Chad and I hold his hand and try ourselves not to sob uncontrollably.
But for the moment that this picture was taken he was the boss! It's been over four years since we went through all kinds of horribleness with Luke and I'm just barely now able to revisit some of it without tears. We had nine months of weekly ER visits, a nurse working at our house full-time, Luke vomiting thirty plus times a day. Too many medication cocktails to think about and trying desperately to keep his blood sugars up when all this boy wanted to do was puke.

To get through it we'd laugh and call him Luke-puke. Who could use vomit as a weapon. Man, that boy.