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.Our sweet third baby, Jeffrey, arrived on a sunny May morning. Two months later, spinal muscular atrophy barged into our world. Hearing the prognosis of death before kindergarten was akin to being pummeled by a raging bull on one side and a tornado on the other. It snatched the proverbial…
As my husband, Randy, and I slipped into our mid 40s, God plopped a little surprise into our middle-aged laps: a pregnancy. Totally unprepared in all ways for a baby, we scrambled with preparations until we were dizzy. Our son, Matthew, who was 10 at the time, was mortified with…
Oct. 6, 1997. My husband, Randy, and I snagged a last-ditch effort to save our baby Jeffrey from spinal muscular atrophy’s deadly vise: meeting with a pulmonologist who was trying gabapentin on another young child in North Carolina. We were desperately eager to learn whether or…
Before I turned 2, I loved watching “Wunda Wunda,” a children’s educational program on a local channel that showcased puppets, stories, and songs. My mother, preparing for the birth of my brother, couldn’t move quickly enough to turn the television off at the end of the show, and…
Kudos and a whew! to us all for surviving 2020. Vastly understated, last year was memorable. Overall (and thankfully), my family managed to welcome the new year intact. However, a second loss connected to my teaching stint at Brockman School hit hard. Brockman, a self-contained school for students with orthopedic…
My husband, Randy, and I moved into our house at the end of December 1995. The old farmhouse, situated in the mountains of North Carolina, was built in 1920, reportedly by bootleggers. Surely there must be some hidden treasure somewhere! We haven’t found it yet, but we haven’t given…
It’s so much more than the turkey. Memories of childhood Thanksgiving gatherings with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins take me to a happy place. My paternal grandmother, Mammaw, wearing white socks and practical black shoes, poured sugar into the bowl for cake icing while the best ever…
It all started 23 years ago, this propensity for November to pack a punch. In the wee hours of Nov. 1, 1997, a power outage set the stage for an eventful day. Make that an eventful few days. By that time, our baby Jeffrey, diagnosed with…
As far back as I can remember, I have had an affinity for all things scary, creepy, suspenseful, and macabre. From “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” (which includes books, black-and-white TV reruns, and movies), to true crime drama, thriller fiction, and “The Walking…
When I began daydreaming about the kind of house my husband, Randy, and I would someday own, my vision included a big covered porch with a swing, a roomy yard with lots of trees, and a white picket fence. Gloria, our realtor in Fort Worth, Texas, had…
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