Family Reunion

We have been home from our big trip to the family reunion for over a week now, and I've not said a thing about it. I have wanted to. But it is just so big. There is so much. My heart is so full. I don't know how to tell you or where to start. Boo was amazing. Awesome. Incredible. But what I saw last weekend was that he comes from a deep and rich background of amazing, awesome, and incredible. The time we spent there was fabulous, partly because I know Boo, how far I can push him, and when to stop pushing. Partly because Boo knows me. He knows he can push himself, and that his mom will always be there to run back to if he goes too far or gets too uncomfortable. Partly because Mammo and Grams are phenomenal. They know how and when to support, and when to back up. They can step in and do the explaining while I step out and do the calming. But here's the real key. Here's what made that weekend go from successful to incredible. My entire family is loving, accepting, happy, and eager to understand and help. Some of them already have a pretty good grasp on what autism looks and feels like, and some just got their first introduction. But every single one of them without exception gave me the distinct sense that they wanted to get it. They wanted to try. They wanted to help, to encourage, to understand, to connect. They didn't get scared or intimidated. They didn't ignore us or leave us out. They were oh so gently inclusive. Encouraging Boo without overwhelming him. Loving him without smothering him. Graciously giving him space and time when he needed it.

I have long said that my family is the stuff that soap operas are made of. We jokingly say that we put the "fun" in dysfunctional, but it is achingly true. There isn't a drama, a crisis, a breakup, a makeup, a trial or a joy that some member of my family hasn't been through. We're messy, we're sticky, we're crazy, and we drive each other nuts. But let me tell you something about my family; when it comes to love, we have the market cornered. There isn't anything we can't love each other through. No one can mess up badly enough, be emotionally screwed up enough, or behave badly enough that we stop loving them and supporting them. As a family, we are not defined by our missteps and mishaps. We are re-shaped by them. But we are defined by our recoveries, our victories, and our triumphs. Sure we get irritated with one another, we get angry, some of us go long periods without talking. But we get past it. We move on. We realize that we aren't responsible for each other and we can't change each other, so we might as well just enjoy each other. So even though some of us drink too much, and some of us talk too much, and some of us laugh too loudly, and some of us roll our eyes too frequently, and some of us can never arrive on time...we can still all get together and sit in a huge circle on a big stone patio and sing Amazing Grace together. We accept each other. We value each other. We love each other. This isn't something new we've started. It's woven into the fabric of who we are as a family. It's not just what we do, it's who we are. So dealing with Boo, learning how to be with him, how to make him comfortable, how to include him...it was second nature. It was seamless. I shouldn't have been worried leading up to the trip, and I shouldn't have been surprised by how it turned out.

There are so many small stories encompassed in the larger one. So many special moments. Difficult moments that we navigated with the gentle loving help of the family, and amazingly victorious moments facilitated by the very nature of their love. They made my Boo feel comfortable in their midst, despite the fact that he was in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, and following nothing at all resembling his normal routine or schedule. He soared. And the palpable love and acceptance of everyone who was there helped give him the wings. I would like to tell you all the little things that happened. For now, to attempt that feels overwhelming. So I will try to put the small stories in subsequent posts for you. Today, I'm still just marveling at the joy of the entire experience. And I am praising God for giving me the phenomenal family He did. I am very blessed.

Independence Day Highs and Lows

Overall, we had a very happy fourth of July. We hope you did too. This morning we ran a few errands and hit the fireworks stand, where Boo picked out several likely looking explosives. We spent the afternoon playing and baking. Then in the early evening, we headed over to Grandpa's house for the weekly family barbecue. It just so happened that this fabulous holiday fell on our regular barbecue night, so my dad decided to go all out.

This is a half-scale replica of a civil war cannon, made by my grandfather

When I was a child, my grandfather and my father belonged to a club which had as one of its activities, regular themed camp outs called rendezvous. At a rendezvous, you camped with only clothing and equipment that would have been available to early Americans before a specified date. (which date I am uncertain of, precisely) With the notable exception of coolers with food and ice, and cans of beer. LOL I remember these events with great fondness. My cousin and I were probably around ages 4 and 6, and our grandma sewed us special dresses and bonnets to wear. We called them our Little House on the Prairie dresses. There were interesting characters, all manor of tents, fascinating clothes, and horses. I remember what a treat it was to walk to a neighboring tent where a friend of my grandparents sold two lemon drops for a penny. I remember my grandpa, Dad, and my uncle looking so handsome in their outfits. I remember the tomahawk throwing competitions, black powder rifle contests, and the highlight, cannon shooting competitions. I am told that Grandpa never lost a competition in which he entered the cannon pictured above, which he built himself. I remember the thrill of the cannon being shot. The excitement, the reverberation of the shot vibrating in my chest, the smell of the gunpowder, the waft of smoke. My grandfather suffered a massive heart attack when I was quite young. By the grace of God he survived, but he was forced to give up a number of activities he loved, including the rendezvous. That cannon hasn't been shot since 1986...until today!

When Dad announced last week that he had decided to shoot the cannon for the fourth, my cousins and I were instantly transformed into a bunch of eight year olds. I have been looking forward to this day ever since. But in the back of my mind there lingered a touch of apprehension about how Boo would react. I arrived at Dad's house a bit early to see if I could be of any help. He got up on a ladder and pulled down a large plastic back from the storage area in the top of his shop. He passed it down to me, and I peeked inside.

I looked in and there were Grandpa's rendezvous hats. It took me by such surprise. Dad hadn't told me he was getting them out. It was a great joy, but tinged with the pang of sadness. My grandpa left this world six years, one month, and one day ago. I miss him so very much. Looking in that bag, it was like he was with us again in a way. My heart jumped and I had to choke back tears. Happy tears, grateful for the wonderful memories he left me, with which to remember him. Soon the rest of the family arrived, and my cousins and I each chose a hat, and wore it the rest of the evening, in the spirit of the day.

When our dinner was done, we all headed out to gather around the cannon. We listened as Dad reviewed the safety rules and procedures. He called for the "powder monkey" and my youngest cousin did the honors. The steps were explained. First, a long stick with some material on the end (what looked like maybe wool? I didn't ask.) was dunked in a bucket of water and passed down into the cannon barrel for a "wet swab." Next, another stick with a sort of iron spiral on the end, known as the "screw" was stuck into the barrel, to pull out any particles that may have remained there from the previous shot. Then another wet swab. Wearing large fireproof protective gloves, the powder money holds the shot (a measured amount of gunpowder wrapped in a cone of aluminum foil of specific diameter) at the end of the barrel, and the rifleman pushes it to the back of the barrel with another stick-like instrument. (These all probably have technical terms of which I am unaware) Then, the firing thing (which I did know the name of earlier tonight, but have forgotten) is inserted into a tiny hole at the top of the barrel. When the firing thing is struck it creates the spark which ignites the gunpowder. Grandpa used to have a mechanism devised for doing so with the pull of a cord. That mechanism has gone missing in the long years since we last fired the cannon, so there was a bit of improvisation. Firing the cannon by hitting the top of it with an aluminum baseball bat might not be the most authentic, but it's a heck of a lot of fun! So we were all set to blow the first shot. I called Boo to me and covered his ears, and we let him do the countdown so that he knew exactly when to expect the noise and could feel in control of it. BOOM! Boo's eyes lit up, he smiled ear to ear and shouted "Do that AGAIN!" I was totally floored, and absolutely thrilled. He remained for the next five shots, holding his ears and providing a countdown for each. My dad, my uncle, and each of us cousins took our turns "at bat." It was exhilarating, and I know my grandpa would be so proud of us for putting his cannon to use once again. And for instilling the love of it to the next generation.

My aunt caught this amazing shot of my turn to fire! How cool is that?

After that, it was back to more traditional forms of Independence Day fun. My cousin introduced Boo to her favorite kind of firework, snakes! He really enjoyed them. He laughed and said they look like poop. Leave it to a five year old. LOL

The best part of snakes, apparently, is crushing them to bits with a stick when they are done.

At one point, Boo asked me how to spell Grandpa. Later I found this written in the sand. It doesn't show well in the picture, but it was awesome!

I also introduced Boo to colored smoke balls and poppers, both of which were a big hit. At dusk we broke out the sparklers. As soon as Boo's was lit he threw it on the ground and ran screaming. Once we showed him how to work them he loved them, but refused to hold them. But my cousins and I acted like the big kids we are at heart and had great fun with them. Then the barbecue broke up and we headed home to shoot off our own fireworks. Boo became even more excited as we drove into town and he saw all the bright sparks in the air all around. He kept talking about how much he loved fireworks and how pretty they are. We got home, got out our bags of explosives, filled our emergency water bucket, and waited for my cousins to arrive. But as the fireworks all around town began to reach a crescendo, so did Boo's anxiety. With every report, every squeal, every crackle, he grew more tense and fearful. Covering his ears was no help. We managed to get through only one of our fireworks before he was completely overwhelmed and ran crying into the house. I went in and set him on a chair in front of the large picture window, where he would have a view of our fireworks without the intensity of the noise. This lasted a little while, but eventually he lost it completely. I had to take a break and come in with him. He was running through the house shrieking, not able to find any place where the sound of the explosions outside was completely muffled. After a great effort, we got him settled in his bed, under his weighted blanket, with his leap pad game to drown out the other noises. He was still agitated, but he could tolerate it. I went outside with my cousins and we finished blowing stuff up, and then said good night.

It took me a while to quiet Boo enough for sleep. He was antsy and agitated, and every little noise was like poking him with a needle. Finally exhaustion took over and his eyelids fluttered closed. I lay beside him watching his precious face. I felt elated at all he had accomplished in the day. I mean, the kid watched a cannon being shot. A freaking CANNON. Multiple times. And loved it! That's HUGE in our world. But the key was that it was one shot at a time, he knew when it was coming, and he was given some control over it. When it came to the fireworks, the sounds and sensations were coming from everywhere at once. There was no reprieve, no time between explosions to reset himself, no way to know when or from where the next shot would come. And the joy of sharing this wonderful day with my son was also pierced with frustration. Not because I was frustrated at him  or by him. Rather, I was frustrated that something that is typically such a simple pleasure of childhood would, for him, have to be a source of pain and anxiety. And I wondered if next year would be a little better. In the end, though, I can't escape the fact that this day was a tremendous success. 





Field Trip, Boo Style

Tuesday was Boo's big class field trip. As with all his preschool field trips, both the 3-4 year old class and the 4-5 year old class went together, along with parents and siblings, making us quite the noisy and chaotic group. Unlike the other few field trips taken during the school term, this one did not fit withing the time frame of the normal three hour school day. This one included taking a lunch! This is the same trip that we took last year when he was in the 3-4 class, so it helped that he and I both knew what to expect. But what helped most was the fact that I have been able to adjust my expectations with these kinds of events. Now, instead of pushing him to participate in the same way as his classmates for fear he will "miss out" on some vital part of his childhood, I am able to realize that my boy knows his limits. He knows what he can manage and how, and more importantly, he knows what he can't handle. And I have learned to listen. So this time, I was able to relax and allow Boo to have fun and participate in his way, and to experience his childhood. It didn't always look like everyone else's field trip, but that's OK. Because what better gift can we give our children than the permission, freedom, and security to be themselves?

We began by meeting at school and getting our instructions. Then we drove to the local zoo. Since we are a small private preschool, we don't go together in a bus. The teacher drives a van, with any students whose parents couldn't come. The parents either drive themselves or carpool together. So there was a big caravan going down the highway. The entire time, Boo was obsessed with the fact that we were behind Little Britches. He wanted me to hurry up and pass him. He insisted it was a race. Finally, when he learned that still more cars were behind us, he became satisfied with being in fourth place because hey, at least we weren't last! We arrived at the zoo and were waiting in the parking lot for everyone else to arrive. The kids were playing and talking together. A couple other mothers were putting sunblock on their kids since it was a very hot and sunny day. I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of sunblock. One of the moms offered me the stick sunblock for his face. I thanked her and tried to apply it, but he recoiled and screamed at me. I tried to reason with him and show him that his friends were putting it on so they wouldn't get sunburned. He requested to get the spray sunblock like another boy did, and the other mom was kind enough to spray him down. I was shocked that he stood happily still while she sprayed his arms, legs, neck, ears, and then used her fingers to apply some to his face. I made a mental note to attempt to hire her for all future summer-time outings.

With that, we headed toward the zoo entrance. Boo and Little Britches were hand-in-hand of course. Our first stop was the "pavilion" where we attended an animal presentation. This consisted of a series of animals being shown while the zoo keeper talked briefly about them, then gave the kids a chance to touch them. Boo was engaged at first, but as the keeper droned on she quickly lost his attention. Instead of trying to keep him focused on what she was saying, I watched for any signs that he was ready to bolt and just made sure he wasn't disruptive. Because, let's face it, how important is it really that he knows what a woodchuck's favorite food is? Other than chanting a few times about how much wood a woodchuck can chuck, he stayed pretty well settled. He politely declined to touch most of the animals, and I let that one go too. Because it's more important that he have a happy and fun field trip than that I get a picture of him touching a Madagascar hissing cockroach.

When the animal show was over, it was time for the highlight of the entire trip. (At least for Boo) A ride on the zoo train! This is just a small local free zoo, so the train ride isn't elaborate. There are no animals to look at, just some animal statues. But it's an actual train, with a conductor, a whistle, and actual tracks. We even went through a tunnel! (kind of a glorified shed which holds all manor of parts, tools, and supplies. Boo was excited to point out the bottle of Gatorade he saw sitting on a shelf!) After the train ride, we headed in to the zoo. The first stop where the kids gathered was the pond. I gave Boo a quarter to buy fish/bird food from the machine. We got an adult size handful. He insisted on throwing it in one tiny piece at a time. He also insisted on standing precariously close to the edge of the pond and throwing the food will all the force he could muster. I just knew he was going to go in the water before the food was gone, but thankfully he didn't.  However, it took him so ridiculously long to finish that every other member of the class had long since moved on. I reminded myself that it didn't matter if he took his joy in the same activities as his peers.

After the pond, Boo's next stop was the rope web. He remembered it from last year, and was looking forward to climbing on it again. I was thrilled to note how much more coordinated he was on it than he had been last year. And of course, the whole time he was on it, he was pretending to be Spiderman!

After Spiderman finished saving the world from evil villains, he moved on to the play area designed to look like a fossil dig site. While the other kids played in the sand pit, using shovels and brushes to unearth the buried "bones," Boo was climbing back and forth along the wall on the edge of the play area. Again, he was so precariously close to the edge that he made me nervous. But I had to laugh when he announced to a group of girls "I'm your friendly neighborhood Spiderman!" Then, after all his classmates had moved on to the next activity, Boo decided he wanted to get into the sand pit and "find" fossils. I felt bad that he always seemed to be three steps behind his peers at every turn. But he didn't seem to mind.

Spiderman hard at work protecting the playground from the Green Goblin

After a quick walk through the couple animal exhibits that were actually open (there's a lot of construction projects going on that have a part of the zoo closed off), it was time to make our way to the bathrooms for potty breaks and hand washing before lunch. At this point, Boo suddenly became obsessed with the fact that there was sand in his shoes, and between his toes. By the time I had coaxed him to the bathroom, all the other kids and parents had already finished. Boo chose a stall, and I entered it with him, holding my hands over his ears while he used the toilet. Then after he washed his hands, I lifted him up and helped him wash the sand from between his toes. Of course, we had to wash the shoes too, and get everything completely dry. By the time we left the bathroom, everyone else was already out of the zoo and halfway through eating their lunch in the park.

We arrived at the park and Boo took a seat next to Little Britches. While the other moms encouraged their kids to finish their ham and cheese sandwiches and fruit, I was content for Boo to eat his Ritz crackers and giant chocolate muffin. He guzzled his bottle of water then took off for the playground. I chatted with some other moms, then went to snap some more pictures. Soon it was time to leave the park and head for the next part of the day. Boo was very distraught. He wanted to play with the bigger kids from another school that had just arrived. In truth, the real problem was that he was hot and tired and hadn't eaten very well all day. Plus he was already overstimulated by all that we had done so far that day. It was a long walk back to the car and he wasn't interested in walking. So yes, this mama was seen carrying a four foot tall, fifty-two pound boy across the park. Yes, it killed my back. Yes, it was babying him. But hey, no one had to endure a full-on meltdown at the park because I knew better than to push him when he was in that state. I made it to the edge of the parking lot before I felt like I was going to fall over, so I told him that was as far as I could carry him, and I had him walk the rest of the way to the car. This took five times longer than it should because of his newest obsession. You know how they use tar to coat the cracks that appear in a parking lot? Boo must follow along these winding black lines to get across. Woe to the man or woman who tries to stop him!

By the time we got to the car, we were both hot, tired and sweaty. We were already almost the last ones to leave because he had taken so much time, but I knew that we wouldn't make it much longer if I didn't get him something to drink. So we stopped at a convenience store. We had to go a bit out of the route because there really wasn't anyplace that was on the way. So by the time we arrived at the next destination, the greenhouse, the rest of the group was already beginning the tour. They were still standing at the very first stop on the tour, but that didn't matter. Boo was so bothered by the fact that he "missed the beginning of the teaching" that he refused to move up front with the rest of the kids. If he couldn't see the entire tour start to finish, he didn't want to see any. Instead, he insisted on staying in the very back of the group with The Boo Whisperer. She was bringing up the rear because she was pushing her daughter in a stroller. Instead of pushing him and insisting he stay in front with the kids, or worrying about him "missing" something...I let it be. What difference did it make if he learned about vegetables, annuals, perennials, and cacti? I can teach him that at home in our garden. He was happy. And by the time the tour was over, and it was time to "plant" a geranium to take home, he was willing to participate because he hadn't been pressured to do something he was uncomfortable with.

After that, it was time for everyone to head home. So, that was our field trip. It didn't look like everyone else's. We tended to always be two or three steps behind the group. But it was close. We had a ton of fun. Boo was happy. And what else matters? I kind of felt like those old anti-drug campaign commercials. This is your field trip...this is your field trip on Autism. LOL. I was proud of boo for keeping his composure even during some difficult moments. I was proud of myself for not pushing him past his ability to cope, and for letting go of the mentality that says he needs to do what all the other kids do. It may not have looked like everyone else's field trip, but it was perfectly Boo. Fun, happy, beautiful, unique, and just a bit off-center.

Happy Birthday Boo!

Thursday, May 3, 2007

I woke up that morning, just as I did every day: Uncomfortable and tired, my hands numb from pregnancy induced carpel tunnel, but happy as a lark. I was anxious to meet my baby boy in about four weeks...or so I thought. I noticed a slight feeling of "leaking" as I headed to the bathroom, but assumed it was just one of those fun side effects of pregnancy, the leaky bladder. I completed my normal morning routine and went to work. But throughout the day I continued to notice a sensation of "leaking" and I was growing increasingly less certain that my bladder was the source of the leak. Around 2:00 that afternoon, I decided to call my obstetrician's office and inquire, since it would be a long drive back to the city if I waited till after I went back home that night. Of course, the nurse who took my call ordered me to come to the office immediately, if not sooner.

I arrived at the office and was given an extremely brief exam by my doctor. She told me that she could not be certain whether my water had broken, since she didn't see the "tell-tale" signs, but that if she were to bet, she would bet that was what was happening. She sent me across the street to the hospital to have an "amnio-sure" test done. She said this was to test for the presence of amniotic fluid. I dutifully followed her directive and waddled across the sky walk to the hospital, stopping halfway across to stare out the window and try to breathe as I called my husband. I was trying really hard not to sound as freaked out as I felt.

I sat in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity. Finally they put me in a room and gave me a gown. They asked all manor of questions, took bodily fluid samples, and threatened to put in an IV if I didn't start drinking water. It began to feel like they intended to keep me for more than just a quick test. Eventually, they did get around to pulling out the glorified Q-tip and swabbing around. I was told that the test result was a faint positive, but "a positive is a positive!" At that point, I knew I was an inmate patient for a while. My family began to arrive then, and we were told "you won't be leaving this hospital without a baby." I wondered how long that would take.

After that it all sort of blurs. There was a whirlwind of activity for a while. At some point I was informed that they had made the decision to induce labor, since they were assuming my water had been ruptured since 7am when I first noticed the leaky sensation, but I'd never had any contractions. They hooked me up to the IV and the external fetal monitor, and hung the pitocin. It's evil stuff, that pitocin! I was uncomfortable, but determined to do this drug free. I had my husband, my mom, my Grams, and my aunt there to get me through. At midnight, my mom began taking notes of what was happening.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Pit at 28
Midnight-"feeling it", discovered 2nd bag

You see, after I had been there approximately six hours with seemingly little progress, someone decided it was time to do an actual exam, at which point they discovered my membrane still intact. Hmm. Head scratcher. The on-call doc who did the exam explained this away by saying that sometimes there can be a "sac within the sac" and that this was rare, but not unheard of. Later he returned to break my water.

12:40-broke the 2nd bag, put internal monitors in.

The only good thing about the internal monitor was that I wasn't so tied to the bed. The external monitor had been loosing the "signal" practically every time I shifted position. With the new internal one in place, I took advantage of the opportunity to sit in the recliner, which was much more comfortable...for a minute. I remember having a sensation that the contractions were coming in unending waves. I had the thought "isn't there supposed to be some time between the contractions?" and at almost that very moment the door opened and various medical personnel swooped in on me. They whisked me out of the recliner and put me in the bed laying on my left side, and strapped an oxygen mask on me. I wasn't real sure what was going on. My poor mother had chosen that time for a bathroom break, and returned to find the chaotic scene. Her notes convey little of the fear I know she felt upon returning.

1:00-I came back from bathroom
on oxygen, shut pit drip off, pushing fluids to slow things down a bit.
contractions are lasting 1 1/2-2 mins, about 2 mins apart.

They explained that the rapid increase in the pitocin drip had caused exactly what I had thought, the contractions were coming in waves one after another without giving the baby a chance to recover. His heart rate was decreasing and he was showing signs of stress. They stopped the drip to give us both a chance to recover, then started all over again, promising to go slower this time.

2:00-Dad sleeping
2:45-working hard, re-started pit
3:15-pit to 4.0

At this point, I was exhausted. I'd had little rest and no food since lunch. I was beginning to loose my resolve on the issue of meds. I was offered a shot, which to me sounded better than the all-out epidural. I agreed. They came in with a needle and pushed liquid relaxation into my IV. Mom notes:

3:20-first pain med-stadol
3:35-"tell Aunt N that's the good stuff"-resting easier-sleeping!
4:35-2-80-neg 2-pit up to 6.0
5:00-pit to 7.0-shot of nubane
5:20-barfing
5:30-pit to 8.0
6:00-pit to 10.0-barfing again
6:15-pit to 12
6:50-pit to 14
7:00-feels pressure to pee, but can't
7:30-pit to 16
7:50-3-90-0-ordered more stadol
8:10-sleeping sweetly
8:20-pill for burning feeling
9:00-pit to 20
10:15-dial to 4-wanting drugs-using birthing ball

Now at this point, I have to clarify. I did NOT want drugs. But I was TIRED. And I was SCARED. I didn't have any idea how long I could expect this to go on, or how much worse it would get. Had I had any clue just how close to the finish line it really was, I'd have never allowed the epidural. I actually asked for another shot, but was told I could not have one. They said the med I was given could only be given once. They said they could give me something else, but it wouldn't work as well. So I gave up, gave in, and asked for the epidural.

11:00-Eppie! :) happy and talkative. whole new world! Gets some much needed rest.

Indeed, I got some rest. The anesthesiologist who placed the epidural told me that I should be numb up to my belly button. I was numb to within an inch of that, which he was satisfied with. He warned me to roll over to my other side every 30 minutes because the medication would "pool" in the side on which I was laying, making it more numb than the other. I rolled to my left and drifted into sleepy land. When I awoke, I could see my nurse and my family sitting in the room chatting. I felt like something was not right. I couldn't move. I couldn't talk. I finally managed to squeak out a few words, which brought everyone rushing to my side. Although I'd been laying on my left, my entire right side of my body was so numb I couldn't tell it even existed. I couldn't move even enough to roll over without assistance. I was numb to my chest. It was the oddest sensation I've ever experienced! There was apparently another exam done, because suddenly everyone was scrambling. Doctors, nurses, gowns, equipment, it was a flurry of activity. The neo-natal doctor came in to talk to us about what we could expect with a preemie. I didn't hear a word he said.

1:30-dialated to 10...begin pushing

My husband supported my left leg, while my mom had to literally hold my right leg in place. I couldn't move it, couldn't feel it, couldn't even tell you for sure if it existed. I remember pushing as hard as I could, wondering if I was even doing it right, if I was being the least bit effective, because I could not feel a thing! And then suddenly, the greatest miracle of my life occurred. My entire world was turned upside down in a moment, recorded by my mother with these simple words:

2:01-Boo enters the world