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.The first surprise our third baby, Jeffrey, delivered was his mere appearance. In 1997, my husband, Randy, and I juggled two school-age children and their respective activities, his new job, and a bustling family lodge. A baby was nowhere on the to-do list. Surprise No. 2 was Jeffrey’s arrival two…
My days growing up in Fort Worth, Texas, are chock-full of fond memories, like waiting in line at Mrs. Baird’s Bakery to talk to Santa. He was the real deal, not some measly helper. The heavenly aroma of bread baking was proof that Mrs. Claus was bustling in the…
Because my husband, Randy, and I had neither furniture nor money when we got married, we lived in furnished apartments for the first couple of years. We purchased the furniture in one of our last apartments for a ridiculously low price. When we bought our first house, my parents…
I don’t know what it is about the end of daylight saving time that rustles my brain when the sun goes down. Maybe it’s because we think of secretive things emerging at night, and now it gets dark at 5:30. As time backed up this month, my “barn doors…
The insidious nature of SMA type 1 that was affecting our baby Jeffrey intensified in October 1997. While relatively calm moments occasionally appeared after a disastrous pulmonary consultation earlier in the month, Jeffrey began experiencing respiratory distress to the point of needing morphine. My frazzled mind filled with…
My late mother, an accomplished pianist named JoAnn Derden, used to perform double-piano concerts with her sister, who insisted that the music — intricate, demanding classics — be memorized. Mom begrudgingly obliged. When those stressful days ended, Mom enjoyed improvising and playing two-piano music with me — no memorization…
It’s officially fall in the U.S.! The weather here in the North Carolina mountains has been stupendous. I could almost hear our assorted fans breathe a collective sigh of relief when we finally turned them off at times and even closed some windows at night to keep from rousing the…
I spent a small fortune on cute books for the kindergarteners I taught at Brockman School, then a self-contained public school in Columbia, South Carolina. The students, many with severe disabilities, delighted in hearing the animated voices of the stories I read to them. My own children, Matthew and…
Sunday afternoon’s dreary skies and light rain tempted me mightily to crawl onto the recliner and drift right off. I doubt I could’ve counted to 10 before unconscious bliss took over — momentarily, anyway. It was also a dreary day for our older dog, Maple, a boxer whose mobility virtually…
For years, slogans with the “F-bomb” (for a certain expletive) have expressed utter contempt for catastrophic diseases, social injustices, or whatever else riles folks up. The first such campaign I remember was about cancer. I certainly didn’t disagree with the desire to eliminate the ravages of the disease, but as…
