Launching into Kindergarten

We recently had Hudson’s yearly CPSE (Committee of Preschool Special Education) meeting. This is a meeting where all his therapists, teachers, parents and Director of Special Education all get together and discuss his progress. I always dread this meeting, which is silly because Matt and I had just met with his therapists a few weeks prior to discuss what would be said. However, it’s not exactly easy to listen to a group of people discuss where your child is struggling, either.

This meeting was also different because Hudson is going to Kindergarten next year. He will transition from CPSE TO CSE (Committee of Special Education) which also means losing all his therapists that he’s had for years and getting all new ones. Next year he will now see the therapists who are employed by the school. The school Occupational therapist, Speech therapist and Psychologist all had to evaluate Hudson individually to see where they believed he should be for Kindergarten and what services he would need. While I work with all of these people (and they assured me he did great when I saw them in passing) I was still nervous they would find something in their evaluations that we were unaware of and bring it up in his meeting. Honestly - with all of these evaluations and tests - it was bringing me back to when he was officially diagnosed, which isn’t exactly my warmest memory.

However that didn’t happen. In fact, everyone had nothing but positive things to say about Hudson. They told Matt and I how "fun he was to work with" and "how smart he is." They did discuss how his gross and fine motor movements set him back, and how he needed more work in OT and PT, but Matt and I were aware of that and we felt prepared to hear those things.

We knew he would need to continue most of his therapies, but one was in limbo that we were unsure of; Speech. We know he has a great vocabulary and that he has been hitting all his speech goals, but his pragmatic skills still need help. So we were eager to hear the Speech therapist’s thoughts on where he stood. She started in and told us how much she "loved working with Hudson for the hour she evaluated him" and that he had earned a game to play with her.

Then she read her report.

Hudson had placed in the 97th percentile and she said was "one of the highest kids she had ever tested." In her tests it had been found that he was testing at a 6 year old’s level in sentence comprehension and an 8 year 11 month year old's level for word structure.

These results brought tears to my eyes. It felt like we had come full circle. If you know our story, it all started with Speech. Hudson only had a handful of words at 18 months and then lost them all at 20 months, which prompted us to get him evaluated by Early Intervention. From there, his SE-IT (Special Education therapist) suggested we test him for Autism. I remember crying at his test after they had told us his diagnosis, asking the doctors if he would lose all the speech he had gained, only for them to say “I don’t know.”

As you can imagine this feels like a huge victory for us! It’s not bragging because I know we have a lot of work to do but I’m so incredibly proud of Hudson. He has been putting in the work since he was 21 months old and it is paying off. He is the hardest working 5-year old I know!

I’m also so incredibly grateful for every single therapist he’s had as they have all had a hand in this. I’m grateful for my best friend suggesting Early Intervention and my husband for constantly trying to come up with new “games” for Hudson to play to help with his speech.

This journey certainly hasn’t been easy but it’s moments like this where you know it’s worth it and what we’re doing is making a difference.

And just like that, Hudson is launching into Kindergarten!

Two Rules Before Hugging a Cow

Finding fun activities to do as a family during COVID is a challenge. Finn pretty much "goes with the flow" and will do most anything outside of the house. Hudson is a bit more fickle, however. He has always enjoyed the Science Center and the Museum of the Earth, but those places have lost their luster with the restrictions on tangible activities during the pandemic.

While sipping coffee and scrolling through Facebook one morning, I stumbled across an event that I had never before seen...

Cow Cuddling.

Conveniently located in Odessa, NY (and only a few miles away from us) is Sunset View Creamery. They have been well-known for their cheeses, having recently hosted a successful series of annual Cheese Festivals that had become a smash hit during the summer. Last summer, they hosted a weekly farmer's market where we could purchase fresh produce in an open setting. A stop into their store is always accompanied with a friendly smile and incredible service. If you're ever passing through the area, it's worth a stop for sure - https://www.sunsetviewcreamery.com/.

But back to the Cow Cuddling...

Hudson has always had a fear of anything remotely close to his size - or bigger. When we ask what kind of dog he wants, his answer is always "a pug; they're cute and small." So when I brought up the idea of going to cuddle some cows, I fully expected the hesitation that we got from him.

"No, no, no... I don't want to do that."

Luckily for us, one of his favorite classroom aides happens to work part-time at the farm, and we knew that she was working that day. When we told Hudson that Ms. Case would be there, he instantly smiled and said "Ok! Let's do it."

When we arrived for our reserved session, we were greeted by two farm dogs in the parking lot. Hudson instantly froze. The dogs were friendly and sociable, but Hudson wasn't so sure. Kayla and I had to reassure him that everything was fine, and that there was no need to be scared. We checked in with Ms. Case (who promptly greeted Hudson with a warm hug) and were soon on our way to the barn.

The barn contained a large pen with several smaller cows. Another couple was already inside, lavishing up the unique experience. There were only two rules we had to remember before entering;

Walk slowly.

Don't be too loud.

Hudson and Finn both acknowledged that they understood the rules before we walked in. What happened next had Kayla and I in awe.

Hudson was naturally hesitant and stayed as close to us as possible as we first walked through the straw floor. Our guide pointed each cow out by name while giving Hudson a brush to use on the cows. Kayla and I fully expected that Hudson would cling to us and avoid any contact with the cows whatsoever, but we were wrong. Less than a minute later, he was petting and brushing the cows! The excitement in his eyes was incredibly euphoric. He walked slowly and quietly as he moved from cow to cow, and made sure to give each one a gentle touch. Ironically enough, our little "daredevil" Finn was the one who clung to Mommy and Daddy the whole time.

Our guide saw how much fun Hudson was having and offered to take us to see a baby that had just been born that morning. We followed her to small corral, where she instructed Hudson to walk inside and see the baby. And he did exactly that.

Hudson thanked our guide for the wonderful experience, and talked about it the short ride back home. After dinner, he and I went to his room to play. This is a common thing for Hudson, and he typically predetermines the script for our play time before we begin by selecting one of the themes that he likes to repeat. The story that we acted out that night was refreshingly unique, however...

"We're a family going to see some cows. And there's just two rules..."

The Worst Day of Our Lives

Kayla and I endured the worst day of our lives four years ago today. We nearly lost our special boy.

Hudson was born with a common physical condition that required an outpatient procedure to resolve. We were apprehensive about putting Hudson under anesthesia (who was under two years old) but were assured that the procedure was routine and that he would have a quick recovery. We scheduled the surgery in Rochester, and hoped for the best.

The day before his surgery was a great one. We opted to go up a day earlier and stay the night, to prevent us from having to leave home at 6am the day of his procedure. We took Hudson to the Museum of Play in Rochester, swam in the hotel pool, and grabbed dinner from Red Robin. Hudson quickly became obsessed with the red balloon he got there, and he carried it all over the hotel room that night.

We went to the Children's Hospital early the next morning for his procedure. Kayla and I were nervous as could be, but Hudson wasn't phased at all by the hospital. He was such a calm, quiet baby; never disturbed by anything. Three hours later, he was out of surgery and in the recovery room.

Kayla and I waited another hour to be discharged. When Hudson started to wake from his anesthesia, Kayla was able to hold and snuggle him. Everything seemed perfectly fine, and we were told that the surgery "went great."

Shortly after, we loaded him up in the car and began our two hour drive home. Hudson was quiet on the ride home, sleeping most of the way. Everything seemed peaceful - and our worries subsided. Or so we thought.

It was nearly dinner time when we got home, and Hudson hadn't eaten anything since the night before his surgery. We put him in his high chair as soon as we walked in the door, and noticed that he was shivering. He wasn't crying or fussing, and we began to rub his arms and back to relax him. His skin felt like fire. I rushed to grab the thermometer, and what it read put us in a panic. 107 degrees!!

We immediately called the on-call nurse for his doctor's office, and were advised to call 911 immediately. First Responders arrived within minutes, and an ambulance came shortly thereafter. Kayla and I watched silently as the medics worked on Hudson before transporting him to our local hospital. While they hooked up his IVs and monitoring devices, we were told that he would have to be transported back to the Children's Hospital in Rochester. Unfortunately, there was no immediate transport available; we had to wait a couple of hours for a local ambulance service to agree to take him.

Around 11pm, Kayla and Hudson were on their way to Rochester in the ambulance, and I in our car. We were admitted into the Emergency Room while we waited for a room to open up in the hospital. The ER was packed, and Kayla and I were exhausted. It would be a few more hours before we would have a room available. Kayla and I spent those hours rotating sleeping in a plastic chair against the wall and attempting to comfort Hudson, who had become quite agitated and overwhelmed at that point.

Early the next morning we were taken to a spacious room on a wing in the Children's Hospital. There was a special bed for Hudson, a large recliner, and a small sofa by the window. Right outside his room was a refrigerator full of milk, pudding, and Jello. We were told to help ourselves to anything we needed.

Various tests had been taken the night before, and we anxiously awaited those results. Hudson's fever had leveled off, and we were all finally able to get some much-needed sleep. Doctor after doctor came in to check on him, and we were told that the tests found nothing to indicate the cause of his fever. Under the advisement of his doctors, we stayed in the hospital two more days to monitor his condition.

The ride home from the hospital was as nearly as quiet as the first one was. Hudson was back to his normal self the next day, almost as if nothing had happened.

A few months later is when we first started to notice his developmental delays. When he was officially diagnosed with Autism, I couldn't help but wonder if his high fever back then damaged his development in some way. Had we caused this by having his surgery performed? In retrospect, I realize I felt this way because I was trying to blame myself for his diagnosis. I know it sounds silly, but I couldn't help but feel it at the time. And there is nothing scientifically that proves a high fever causes Autism. It’s genetic, and he was always going to be on the Spectrum.

Luckily for us, Hudson doesn't remember any of this ordeal. Kayla and I will never forget; we still have the dump truck toy that I bought him from the hospital gift shop. It reminds me that his life is precious, and can be taken away from us in an instant. We have friends who have gone through similar medical scares with their children, and were not so lucky as we were. Our heart breaks for them everyday.

We would gladly take Hudson at his worst days than to ever have to go through this scare again.