new gift. Henry seemed especially happy when his cousin Rachel walked in, decked out in a blue gingham dress with a rounded collar and a big white bow in her hair (already showing signs of the fashion maven she would become). We perched Henry and Rachel on top of our dining-room table, and they proceeded to stick their fingers into the âHappy 1st Birthday Henry and Rachelâ cake.
My friends Erica Antonelli and Debbie Blumâeach on the verge of marriage and motherhoodâstopped by with a present they had made: the front page of a newspaper called The Henry Tribune with headlines like: OH HENRY! EVERYONEâS FAVORITE BABY TURNS ONE. BIRTHDAY BOY BANGS ON BONGOS AS WORLD AWAITS CAREER DECISION. And my favorite: MARRIED WITH CHILDREN: DC COUPLE BUCKS TREND.
In addition to Elmo and birthday songs, Allen and I had alsochosen to celebrate Henryâs first birthday by launching Hope for Henry, a campaign to raise awareness and critical funds for Fanconi anemia research. We knew that saving Henryâs life required a battle on two fronts. The first was to find and access the best medical care possible, which we were doing with the help of our doctors and the Fanconi Anemia Research Fund. The second was to raise as much money as we possibly could to fund medical research that would improve bone-marrow-transplant survival rates and reveal a cure.
It was a great day. Henry was healthy and adorable, and surrounded by people he loved. What would turn out to be his very best gift, however, the thing he loved more than anything else, came two months later. Jack Strongin Goldberg arrived on December 28, 1996, in the same hospital where I had been born. He made his entrance at 4:35 in the morning on a warm day after a long labor, near strangulation by his umbilical cord, and an emergency C-section with inadequate anesthesia. The trauma that immediately preceded Jackâs birth was erased by the sound of his hearty cry and the fact that he had ten fingers and toes, a healthy heart, and other signs of longed-for newborn normalcy.
A few hours after Jack was born, my mom brought Henry to the hospital to meet his new brother. From outside the plastic bassinet where Jack rested, Henry, age one, leaned in. âHi Jack,â he said, trying out a new word he had learned earlier that day.
That night, as I nursed Jack to sleep, I couldnât stop looking at our new son, whose brown hair and eyes looked like mine, whose dimples came from Allen, and whose perfect health seemed like nothing short of a miracle.
Henryâs Favorite Things
⢠Beanie Babies
⢠Sleeping in tents
⢠Making telephone calls
⢠The polar bears and penguins at the Central Park Zoo
⢠Knock-knock jokes
⢠Penny candy
⢠Soaring down the rock slides on cardboard box tops at Billy Johnson playground in New York City
5
H OPE I NTERRUPTED
Henry, my hero
The Strongin Goldberg Family
H enry met his first hero in the aisles at Sullivanâs Toy Store, near our home in downtown Washington. It was among his favorite places to go, especially when in search of something fun. On one particular afternoon, while on his way to the collection of bats, balls, Frisbees, and other flying objects that filled the storeâs back shelves and our backyard, Henry stopped dead in his tracks.
There he was.
His dark blue cape was spread out as if he were midflight. A mask covered his face, shrouding him in mystery. In the middle of his chest was a big black bat. We didnât even make it out of the store before Henry had freed Batman from his packaging. That night Henry slept with Batman in his clutches.
When it came time for Halloween that year, the black-and-white cow costume was last yearâs news. Henry was Batman. He was Batman the day after Halloween, and the day after the day after Halloween. He didnât need a holiday to give him permission to honor his hero. Henry quickly accumulated an amazing and diverse
My friends Erica Antonelli and Debbie Blumâeach on the verge of marriage and motherhoodâstopped by with a present they had made: the front page of a newspaper called The Henry Tribune with headlines like: OH HENRY! EVERYONEâS FAVORITE BABY TURNS ONE. BIRTHDAY BOY BANGS ON BONGOS AS WORLD AWAITS CAREER DECISION. And my favorite: MARRIED WITH CHILDREN: DC COUPLE BUCKS TREND.
In addition to Elmo and birthday songs, Allen and I had alsochosen to celebrate Henryâs first birthday by launching Hope for Henry, a campaign to raise awareness and critical funds for Fanconi anemia research. We knew that saving Henryâs life required a battle on two fronts. The first was to find and access the best medical care possible, which we were doing with the help of our doctors and the Fanconi Anemia Research Fund. The second was to raise as much money as we possibly could to fund medical research that would improve bone-marrow-transplant survival rates and reveal a cure.
It was a great day. Henry was healthy and adorable, and surrounded by people he loved. What would turn out to be his very best gift, however, the thing he loved more than anything else, came two months later. Jack Strongin Goldberg arrived on December 28, 1996, in the same hospital where I had been born. He made his entrance at 4:35 in the morning on a warm day after a long labor, near strangulation by his umbilical cord, and an emergency C-section with inadequate anesthesia. The trauma that immediately preceded Jackâs birth was erased by the sound of his hearty cry and the fact that he had ten fingers and toes, a healthy heart, and other signs of longed-for newborn normalcy.
A few hours after Jack was born, my mom brought Henry to the hospital to meet his new brother. From outside the plastic bassinet where Jack rested, Henry, age one, leaned in. âHi Jack,â he said, trying out a new word he had learned earlier that day.
That night, as I nursed Jack to sleep, I couldnât stop looking at our new son, whose brown hair and eyes looked like mine, whose dimples came from Allen, and whose perfect health seemed like nothing short of a miracle.
Henryâs Favorite Things
⢠Beanie Babies
⢠Sleeping in tents
⢠Making telephone calls
⢠The polar bears and penguins at the Central Park Zoo
⢠Knock-knock jokes
⢠Penny candy
⢠Soaring down the rock slides on cardboard box tops at Billy Johnson playground in New York City
5
H OPE I NTERRUPTED
Henry, my hero
The Strongin Goldberg Family
H enry met his first hero in the aisles at Sullivanâs Toy Store, near our home in downtown Washington. It was among his favorite places to go, especially when in search of something fun. On one particular afternoon, while on his way to the collection of bats, balls, Frisbees, and other flying objects that filled the storeâs back shelves and our backyard, Henry stopped dead in his tracks.
There he was.
His dark blue cape was spread out as if he were midflight. A mask covered his face, shrouding him in mystery. In the middle of his chest was a big black bat. We didnât even make it out of the store before Henry had freed Batman from his packaging. That night Henry slept with Batman in his clutches.
When it came time for Halloween that year, the black-and-white cow costume was last yearâs news. Henry was Batman. He was Batman the day after Halloween, and the day after the day after Halloween. He didnât need a holiday to give him permission to honor his hero. Henry quickly accumulated an amazing and diverse
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