In the fall of 1996, as my husband, Randy, battled a stressful job situation, our surprise pregnancy packed an additional wallop. It also sparked much-needed joy, once we recuperated from the news flash. Jeffrey’s birth two weeks early, as Randy’s job mercifully ended, provided a perfect boost. He was beautiful,…
We’re Not in Kansas Anymore
— Helen Baldwin
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.
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Last Wednesday evening, a double rainbow popped up across the road. We’d had rain to some extent every afternoon and night. The rainbow provided a beautiful bit of calm and was, we hoped, a sign that the rain would be easing up. It turned out to be the calm…
“I haven’t had cancer since I was 11 months old!” our cheery granddaughter recently proclaimed. Clara turned 7 at the end of December. She’s witty, imaginative, spunky, highly entertaining, candid, cute, and sharp. Sometimes, though, her facts are a bit skewed. She’s never had cancer. What she does have…
The Christmas spirit eluded me in 1997. Our baby Jeffrey, diagnosed with SMA that summer, had snagged his wings that November. Needing to find something positive, I focused on why I should be thankful. Jeffrey was in heaven, free from the ravages of SMA. I knew that, and…
Last year, my brother and I plotted to round up our respective families for Thanksgiving. It was a daunting effort. Our family branches are scattered over three states, and, as usual, work schedules conflicted. Alas, thanks to some angel intervention and alignment of enough stars, we managed to come together.
After high school graduation, I studied abroad through the American Institute for Foreign Study. Based in Oxford, England, our group attended classes at Balliol College and enjoyed side trips to London, Paris, Rome, and Florence, Italy. From shrimp scampi at the Mitre Inn, to rolling hills, rosy cheeks,…
I credit my mother for my affinity for (most) things hair-raising. She loved thrillers. While her vision allowed, she was drawn to the TV shows “Forensic Files” and “Criminal Minds,” delighted to learn that our daughter, Katie, was also a fan. Halloween’s creepy stuff comes…
My husband, Randy, and I live in the North Carolina mountains. The New River State Park down the road lures campers and canoers in summer months. From late September through late October, the leaf-lookers join in. Fall is spectacular around this part of the state, with bountiful mountains…
If there’s not a 12-step program for sentimental slobs, maybe there oughta be. As a sentimental slob myself, I come by it naturally. Let me explain. Although my parents had little money when they married, Dad made a reservation for their honeymoon at a new hotel in town. After the…
My husband, Randy, and I had been married 23 years when news of a surprise third baby, um, surprised us. Jeffrey hadn’t been planned (by us, anyway), yet we forged ahead almost sanely in anticipation of our expanding family. Our oldest child, Matthew, then 10, undoubtedly knew just enough about…
Lights! Camera! Action! My family’s goings-on might make good fodder for a reality TV show. It’s been a memorable year so far, including my mother’s declining health and death in February; a collapsed ceiling and water damage two months later in what had been…
The homework assignment in fifth grade involved music. I probably wrote a few short reports about composers and attempted to draw some instruments with my dual-ended map colors. I wrote “Music” on the outside of the blue folder and added some spiffy artwork. Good spelling came naturally…
“MomMom! MomMOM!” When hollered out in glass-shattering decibels, my grandma moniker can mean anything. During my recent extensive time in charge of our grandchildren, Clara, 6, and James, 4, I’ve dashed to the scene of what sounded like emergency status more than once. One episode of Clara’s “MomMOM!” revealed…
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