Ryan

I haven't written about any of my kids—like a spotlight—for a long time. So I'll tell about Ryan:

I was pregnant with Ryan—although I didn't know it yet—when we made our long drive home from Tennessee in December of 1998. Bruce's sister, Amanda, had flown out so she could spell me on the drive back. After all the packing and loading and getting stuff ready, we were ready to drive out on a Monday afternoon. No sooner did we get on the road (Amanda was driving), than I fell asleep. A light sleep; every time she changed lanes or came to a stop, I would startle awake. (Amanda is a very good driver—it wasn't her driving that woke me.) I felt kind of bad, because the plan was for us to take turns driving the car while Bruce drove the moving truck, but I just couldn't stay awake. So the next morning I bought some No-Doze. One of those little pills had me bouncing off the walls and I drove for a couple hours. Then I came down off of it and was miserable and headachey the rest of the day. I threw out the No-Doze and just let Amanda drive the rest of the three-day trip.

When we got back to Salt Lake, the first thing we found out was that Bruce's Grandma Ward had died on the day we started driving. :-( Her funeral would be that Friday. It was after the funeral that I first suspected I was pregnant. We'd gone to lunch with the family and I realized that I was too hungry, and a little sick, but mostly that my dress seemed way too tight. A test a couple days later confirmed it. Ryan was on his way.

blessing outfit, 3 months old

Ryan's first name came quickly; I just knew he was Ryan. I was a little worried that we'd get Brandon and Ryan's names confused a lot, and even tried to think of a different name, but it was definitely Ryan. A middle name was a little more difficult. Then one day, while we were watching Treasure Island (with Charlton Heston and Christian Bale—the only Treasure Island I've seen that was worth watching) the good-guy captain hollers at the pirates, ". . . as my name is Alexander Smollet, I'll see you all to Davy Jones!" Alexander! Ryan Alexander North—a great name!

7 years old

We were living with Bruce's parents that first year home from TN, and through my entire pregnancy with Ryan. In February of 1999 Bruce had started working for Acclaim Entertainment, a video-game company that expected him to live in the studio. So I was having contractions about five minutes apart around 9:30 p.m. on August 4 and Bruce was still at work. But I wasn't in agony or feeling desperate yet, so I just waited for him to get home from work. At about 11 p.m. Bruce had gotten home and then we were on our way to the hospital in Salt Lake City.

one year old

Naturally the ride there made all my labor stop, but I was dilated to 4 1/2, this was my fifth baby . . . they kept me there overnight to see if anything would happen. During the night I dilated a little further, but the labor was irregular; still, since it was the fifth baby, and my babies come fast when they come, they didn't send me home. In the morning (August 5) they called my dr. and he told them to start me on pitocin to get things going again. Since my last two epidurals had done nothing to help me they decided to give me the epidural before they started me on the pit; they thought that might work better. It was nasty to feel that needle go into my back without the pain of labor to distract me! It was also the first time Bruce had ever watched the needle going into my back and he got woozy. The nurse made him sit down and put his head between his knees and they got him some juice while I got hooked up to an I.V. and monitors.

The pitocin worked right away; the epidural did not. When the nurse and the anaesthesiologist saw how miserable I was they said they'd remove the epidural and try again—sometimes it doesn't get into the exact right spot. I wasn't too excited about re-doing the epidural, but I wasn't thrilled with the heavy contractions either. Before they could do anything, though, I had this huge, terrible contraction, so they said they'd do the epidural-thing after they checked me once more (after the contraction ended). Too late. That contraction got me from seven centimeters to ten. So they just removed the epidural entirely, and the doctor came in to break my water. He just barely touched me and my water broke and got everywhere; I could feel it splash my feet and it got the doctor all wet, too. So Ryan was really on his way! [photo: 2 years old]

That naughty little baby thought he'd arrive like Superman, with one fist extended in front of his head. So I had to stop pushing and let the doctor push Ryan's arm back and out of the way or he might be born with a dislocated or even broken collar-bone. But soon there he was, screaming his little head off; my cute little red-haired baby boy. (All the medical people and some of my family said Ryan had red hair, but I didn't think it was. But looking at his photos years later I thought, yeah—it was reddish.)

red hair?

Ryan was a healthy, happy little baby. And he grew into a mischievous, tow-headed, silly little boy. When he was about three years old, we started home-schooling. There was quite a large group of home-schooling families in our area, and we got hooked up with them, so our kids were able to participate in some fun activities. One of the things they did was perform a Christmas play about a bunch of trees who each wanted to be Santa's own Christmas Tree. Ryan got to be in the chorus of kids, dressed as an elf. During the opening number he sat on the front of the stage with all the other little kids; only he tucked his hands under his arms, flapped his "wings," and sang, "Bawk, bawk, bawk," through the entire song.

the silliest, little elf

In Kindergarten Ryan was an amazing reader. I remember the incongruency of sitting in our livingroom, reading scriptures with our family, and hearing Ryan flawlessly read out loud from the Book of Mormon while on the floor I could see one of those little paper books that the school sent home for him to practice reading. ("The cat sits on the mat.") This year he took second place in the Reader's Showdown between the fifth and sixth grades (he's in fifth grade). And he's very bright in math and every other subject, too.

[photo: 5 years old]

Ryan is almost 11 years old. Blond, with a charming dimple in his left cheek that'll drive girls batty later, soon he'll be taller than me. Ryan is my one boy who has always liked—and still does like— to give me hugs. :-) He still loves to read, and does great in school; he shares the same silly sense of humor that the rest of the family has. He is a great kid!