Harry

I didn’t realize I left you all hanging on Tuesday with my “Big Step” post.  At least, not until the lovely Shawna left a comment this morning pointing out my omission.  Oops!  Didn’t mean to leave you all a cliffhanger.  So, in the interest in full disclosure: the bus adventure went GREAT.  I met him off the bus that afternoon and if it hadn’t been for the other girls on the bus bossing him around, it would have been picture perfect.  Alas, Harry saw me across the street and was wanting to cross the street.  I don’t think he was actually going to because this is Harry we’re talking about and he’s cautious as the day is long.  But some of the girls who ride the bus with him and knew he was new to the whole bus thing that day reprimanded him and told him he had to wait to cross.  And this pissed my son off.  He doesn’t like being told what to do by ME most of the time, much less some girl who has no authority with him.  He hollered at the “lead girl” to be quiet and then burst into tears as he was crossing the street towards me.  Poor kid.

But really?  The whole thing went fine.  He told me he liked riding the bus and was excited to ride it again yesterday.  Which he did and this time, no tears because he crossed the street just as he was supposed to.  He’s becoming an old pro, that one.  He’s taking the bus again today, and by now it’s old hat.  We have to turn in his “emergency contact” sheet, but other than that, it’s almost like he’s been taking the bus all along.  I don’t know about tomorrow, since it’s a half day and we’ve been invited over for a play date at our friends’ house. I guess I’ll play it as it comes.

Speaking of riding the bus, it’s a darn good thing we decided to go with it this week.  This whole budget crunch is especially difficult this month.  While our “good” van was registered, we lacked the new tags to put on the license plate so we were reluctant to take it out when going to MOPS yesterday.  Because surely if we had, a cop would have pulled in behind us and pulled us over for not displaying the tags as we’re supposed to.  So we took Kile’s van.  Which, it’s a good van too.  It was my van before we got the current one and definitely does the trick.  However, my husband (unlike myself) tends to drive the gas tank to empty before refilling.  And yesterday, there was maybe an 1/8 of a tank left in there.  Of course, it’s about 15-20 miles to MOPS and then another 15-20 miles back.  Oh, and we are out of funds for the month.  Payday comes around 9pm tonight (god bless direct deposit), but that didn’t help us yesterday.  I had two dollar bills in my wallet plus about two dollars in change.  We wanted to use that, however, for lunch since MOPS gets out about 11:30 and certain pregnant ladies are generally pretty hungry about then.  We swung by del Taco (not out of our way and hence, not using any more gas than necessary) and had some crunchy tacos to fill our tummies with.  It worked out pretty well.  And we actually made it home on the fumes left in the gas tank.  So that’s pretty good, I think.  WE MADE IT.

It stinks to be so spent at the end of the month.  And most months, it’s not quite this bad.  But… ’tis the season.  And we make do.  I’m just glad there was no pushing of the van required yesterday, because that would have SUCKED.

I put Harry on the school bus this morning.

*gulp*

It’s a big step we’ve been wanting to try for a while.  With the baby coming in March, we knew he’d have to start taking the bus.  I make it work, driving him to school and whatnot with Liam but with another baby?  Especially in the early months?  Probably not as doable.  My sanity is important here, people.   My mom has been trying to get me to put Harry on the bus for a while now.  Recently, she told me that she felt I should have him on the bus by winter, because she didn’t like the thought of me slipping and sliding down the hill to school in my van on icy roads.  Not in my “precious condition”, at least.

Harry has wanted to ride the bus.  It picks up and drops off just down at the bottom of our cul-de-sac, there are kids in his class who ride the same bus and plus, it seems like fun.  You know, especially if you haven’t done it before.  So we bit the bullet.  I walked down to the bus stop with him this morning (Liam in his stroller, bundled up against the spitting rain and cold, November air) and waited until the bus came.  Then I introduced Harry to the driver and got an emergency contact sheet to fill out and turn back in tomorrow.  Harry was way excited, I could tell by his body language.  Kids already on the bus recognized him and called out, “Harry!  It’s Harry!  Hi, Harry!” as he climbed aboard.  He sat by a window and smiled and waved at me as the bus pulled away.

I walked back home with a huge smile on my face, knowing we’d made an important move here.  It’s sad, in a way, because it just means he’s getting older and more independent.   It’s hard to sever those ties, you know?  But I’m happy too because it’s my job as a mom to make sure he’s an independent person as he grows up.  And today, he found a huge chunk of independence.  And here in a few minutes, we’re going to walk down to the corner and wait for the bus to pull up.  I can’t wait to hear how it all went.

This is reposted from a journal I was writing in at the time, word for word. 

Well, he’s here, he’s gorgeous and I’m in love.  He was born on Wednesday the 10th at 5:22am.  And I had a c-section!  Of all the things, I never expected an emergency c-section.  Poor Kile couldn’t even be there to comfort me (not that I was even conscious) , but he also couldn’t witness the birth of his son.  Neither did I.  That’s still kind of sad.  Something I do regret.  Well, let me tell the story.

It starts on Tuesday the 9th with my doctor appointment.  They found some protein in my urine and my blood pressure was still a bit high.  Not too bad though so I wasn’t worried.  They took some blood to test, just in case.  My doctor examined me and I was 3 centimeters, 50% effaced and the baby’s head was right there.  I’d made progress!

I didn’t give it much thought the rest of the day.  I had another appointment the next morning to go over the results of the blood test.  I spent the afternoon with my friend.  She thought I was being pretty cranky but I insist that I was refining my snark.

Kile and I had just dug into our TV dinners that night when the doctor called.  She’d gotten the test results and the level of uric acid was elevated.  That normally indicates the beginnings of renal failure, gout or preeclampsia.  Guess which one I was?  We knew it wasn’t the first two.  She told us to meet her at the hospital for a non-stress test.

We put our bags in the car (thank god they were packed) and went on our way.  I was sure we’d be coming back home that night.

We got to the hospital and got into a room.  It was about 7:45 so we got settled and then watched “Buffy” on the TV while I was hooked up to some external monitors.  At 8:30, my doctor and her colleague came by.  They checked me and I was still 3 centimeters.  They were also checking how ready my cervix was towards being induced.  They decided to ahead with it and we started making our phone calls.

Around 9pm, I got an IV.  The first one got messed up and my nurse had to do it again.  It hurt pretty bad!  I got fluids and pitocin.  My friend came by to visit and the three of us hung out and watched TV or a few hours.  The contractions didn’t hurt, were basically just strong Braxton-Hicks.  About 12:30, Jenn left and my doctor checked me again.  I was 4 centimeters this time.  They wouldn’t give me any medication, but then I wasn’t in any pain.  Yet.

Around ten to one, Kile and I decided to try to nap a little before it started hurting.  Kile slept, but I was too interested in watching the contraction monitor.  At 1:45, it really started to hurt all of a sudden.  And it hurt BAD.  Kile got up and tried to help me breathe through the contractions.  That was about a joke and didn’t work very well.  It only made my mouth and throat dry.  I couldn’t relax at all in between contractions and they were coming so fast.  I was shivering and shaking uncontrollably.  the pain was so bad, they finally gave me a shot of stadol around 2:15am.  That helped me to relax, almost sleep, in between contractions.  They still hurt, but it was almost as if I didn’t care.

Around 3:30, the contractions started getting really bad again and the stadol was wearing off.  I felt terrible and even threw up.  My doctor checked me again and I was 5 centimeters.  He asked if I wanted an epidural.  Of course!  The anesthesiologist showed up close to 4 am and started to get to work.  It took him a little over a half hour to get the epidural all set up.  Meanwhile, I was in agony.  The contractions really hurt and were really close together.   I was still trying to do breathing, the epidural didn’t seem to be working.  I couldn’t believe how much it all hurt.  I was very annoyed with the anesthesiologist for taking so long and for not making to work right.

My doctor checked me again and I was at 10 centimeters already!  Go figure!  I was ready to push so they turned off that pathetic excuse for an epidural.  I remember a ton of people in the room, some holding my legs even.  I remember Kile was holding my right leg back and new nurse holding my left.  I saw the bassinet and instrument table all set up.  I tried my best to push but the baby wouldn’t come out.  They tried vacuum extraction and his head would crown but then he would slip back up to +1 station.  Finally, around am, they decided to go for a c-section.  For some reason, they couldn’t do an epidural for it, since the previous one hadn’t worked and time was of the essence.  So it would be under general anesthesia.  At that point though, I really didn’t care.  I was still having horrible contractions and these were pushing contractions.  I just wanted the pain to be over.  I was exhausted.  Kile gave the doctors the okay and they gave me an antacid for my stomach so I wouldn’t get sick.  I felt like a weak kitten.

They wheeled my bed into an operating room and I was moved onto an operating table.  There were about a million people in the room, buzzing around.  They put a screen up (??) and gave me a new IV.  I guess they didn’t like the old one.  Meanwhile, I was still having contractions.  They told me I was going to be put under soon.  It took a while, but soon I was out.

I woke up in a long room.  There were two nurses there, buzzing around and talking.  I was very disoriented and my throat really hurt.  I was shivering and shaking so a nurse put a warmed blanket on me.  I think I kept dozing and waking again.  Before long, my doctor came in.  She was a sight for sore eyes.  She was very gentle as she talked to me and checked me out.  Kile came in and held my hand.  I was very curious about the baby (naturally!) so I asked him.  Kile said he was find and in the nursery.  He’d seen and held him already.  He looked good.  I wished I could see him.  Kile had to leave and I’m not sure how long I was in there until they moved me.  That was about at 7:30 or so.  I don’t recall it very well.  They were giving me shots of Demerol for pain.  I really wanted to see Harry.

Finally, about 10:00am, when I was settled into my postpartum room, they brought him in from the nursery.  I put him to my breast but he didn’t do much besides snuggle.  He was gorgeous.  He had to be the best looking newborn I’d ever seen.  I fell in love at first sight.  But it wasn’t long until the nurse took his temperature and it was a bit low so they took him back to the nursery to sit under the warmer.  I was disappointed to see him go.  I was still having a hard time believing it all.

Well, to make a long story short (is it too late?), Harry had some episodes in the nursery where he had trouble breathing.  He was sent to the Intensive Care Nursery and didn’t have any more episodes there, but he did develop some pretty gnarly jaundice.  He couldn’t come to me anymore, so I had to make myself get out of bed and into a wheelchair and down to the ICN to see him.  He continued to do well, except for the jaundice.  We started nursing the next day and he took real well to that.  He’s the best baby and I just love him to death.

So that’s it.  8 years ago this morning, Harry was born.  We just brought him breakfast in bed (chocolate chip pancakes, orange juice and bacon!) and later on, he’s going to the planetarium with some friends.  Happy Birthday, big guy.  I still can’t believe it’s been EIGHT YEARS. 

I was always a smart cookie when I was a kid.  And I had this sense of myself, like I knew that I was smart, that I knew a lot of things.  And what I didn’t know, I could guess.  I figured a lot of it was common sense.  I was really good at reading though, and had a natural love of writing.  I was always placed in the advanced reading group in class, reading things like “The Hobbit” while the rest of the class read “A Wrinkle in Time”.  I don’t know why no one did it earlier, but when I went into the sixth grade and transitioned to middle school, I was placed in a gifted and talented program.  Where I grew up, they called it GaTE, for Gifted and Talented Education.  In elementary school, you were bussed to another school for some programs (I knew because I had some friends who were in it) and it sounded kind of fun.  In middle school, it replaced your regular reading and language arts classes and was just more difficult than a normal class.

It didn’t help that we had a new teacher that year and she just did not have a hold on that class.  Sure, the work we had to do was more challenging but I think by then I had gotten lazy in my studying techniques and I recognized all this as extra work.  And I pulled solid B’s in the class.  I knew if I had been in a regular class, I could have gotten A’s and I didn’t like that.  I wasn’t interested in putting out extra effort.  I wanted to use the same effort I was used to putting forth and get better grades.  So I did a very stupid thing and when I went into seventh grade, I had them put me in regular classes again.  STUPID.  If I had stayed in the GaTE program, I would have had an automatic in to the honors classes in high school.  And in those classes, you got more points for your grades.  If you got a B, it was worth 4 points, just like a regular A was.  An A was worth 5 points.  This is how I knew people who graduated with higher than a 4.0 grade average.

If I had been in honors classes, I don’t doubt that my grade point average would have been higher.  I don’t recall right now what it was, exactly, but I think it was around a 3.2.  All my siblings went to University of California for college and I wanted to go to University of California at Santa Cruz, like my sister did.  But my grades were borderline and so were my SAT scores (the math section totally dragged me down).  The application fee was $50 and I had to pay it out of my own pocket.  I just didn’t want to give up that sort of money on something that wasn’t a sure thing.  So I paid $20 for an application to the University of Nevada at Reno instead and got in easily.  And that was that.  See?  LAZY.

Harry takes after me quite a bit.  He’s also very smart and he is phenomenal at reading.  We had his parent/teacher conference yesterday and his teacher couldn’t stop gushing about how far ahead of the rest of the class he was.  She said she can’t tell if he’s bored or not (Harry is very hard to read that way) though and mentioned the local gifted and talented program, which is called GT around here.  She was unsure about placing him in it because the school he would be bussed to is clear over in Sparks and he is only in the second grade.  They just start offering GT at second grade apparently, and there’s also an issue of if the child is mature enough for the program or not.  We told her we’d like to see more information about the program, whether or not we place him in it this year.  We’d just like to know more about it.

My thing is I think he should be in the program sooner rather than later.  I don’t want to wait too long, like I did, until he’s bored with school altogether and lazy in his study habits.  As it was, when we talked to him about it and Kile mentioned some of the work would be “harder”, he visibly recoiled.  Then I told him it’s not so much that it’s harder, it’s more “challenging” and that instead of learning things he already knows (which he does complain about to me on occasion), he would get to learn new things.  And he really liked that idea.  I just want to get him going in a program like this while he’s young and thirsty to learn.  I don’t want to miss this window of opportunity.

What do you all think?