Helen Baldwin lives in Jefferson, North Carolina, with her husband, Randy plus their two dogs, a cat, and untold wild critters outside. Their firstborn’s family, including two delightful children, lives just down the road, so she enjoys lots of MomMom time. Helen and Randy have a rental cabin and bees, among numerous other endeavors, so they’ll never be bored. Life took a drastic twist in 1997 when their third baby, Jeffrey, was diagnosed with SMA type 1. Although their active stint with SMA was brief, Helen hopes that sharing and connecting experiences after Jeffrey’s death, usually with optimism, helps others endure the unpredictability of loss and recovery.My teacher parents were hardworking, generous, creative, witty, and caring. Shortly after I began college, my beloved maternal grandmother moved into an apartment added to our family’s house. During Grandmom’s episodes of congestive heart failure, Dad took her to the emergency room every time. Genuinely happy to help, he…
I was born on an Air Force base in Tacoma, Washington, but I grew up in Fort Worth, Texas. Texas was a wonderful place despite the chiggers, mosquitoes, and traffic. It was also oppressively hot in the summer, when only ice-cold watermelon, iced tea, ice cream, and Mexican food sounded…
As a high school senior, I belonged to our school’s coed spirit group. I belted out the cheers at the football games enthusiastically, although my pigskin smarts fit on the head of a pin. An astute observer, I quickly identified “first and 10” as a good thing because of the…
I was a conscientious student, highly motivated to excel whenever possible. My father was a public school teacher and later a principal at the elementary level. My mother taught piano at home. Neither parent browbeat my younger brother and me into obsession over schoolwork (or, for…
Life for our family has never been dull, but after our fortuitous move to the North Carolina mountains, “never dull” acquired new meaning. A blizzard hit a week after our arrival, flying squirrels gnawed their way into our dining room, and snow kept students hunkered down at home at least…
My brother’s birthday was July 13. While we generally aren’t able to get together to celebrate, we managed to do so in 1997. Paul’s birthday fell on a Sunday back then, too. At the time, our parents served as innkeepers of the still relatively new family lodge on the…
My late mother, who was musically gifted, fostered an appreciation of quality music in our family. I took enough piano lessons from her to serve as her other half in a two-piano duo that lasted for decades. Whether we were performing for others or simply our own enjoyment, our go-to…
On the afternoon of July 7, 1997, a sickening thud and screams hailed from the front yard. Our older children, Matthew, 10, and Katie, 7, had been playing with our two dogs when one of them, Duffy, darted to chase the mail carrier’s vehicle. The mail carrier couldn’t avoid hitting…
My mother dubbed me a Pollyanna many years ago. I loved the 1960 movie “Pollyanna,” but don’t remember if I identified with the orphaned character’s perpetual, cheery optimism or merely adored Hayley Mills, the actress who played her. In one scene, Pollyanna (sent to live with her wealthy,…
In May 1997, my husband, Randy, and I awaited the arrival of our third baby. The ultrasound indicated we were having a boy. We named him Jeffrey. Years before, I’d taught at Brockman School, a self-contained setting for students with orthopedic and myriad other conditions considered severe and…
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