Our baby Jeffrey snagged his wings in early November 1997, ending the brief active-duty portion of our SMA assignment. A few short months later, my husband, Randy, and I opened a bakery and sandwich shop in one of our county’s tourist hot spots. The business bustled with out-of-towners and locals.
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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My husband, Randy, and I had never considered leaving our hometown of Fort Worth, Texas. That all changed when Randy received an unexpected coaching offer in South Carolina. With little time to prepare for such a major life change, we soon found ourselves relocating to Columbia. In Columbia, my teaching…
December is replete with giving opportunities in the form of holiday presents, donations, and volunteering with myriad charitable causes, making its designation as National Giving Month apt. It’s a natural extension of Thanksgiving. Virtually anything can be a gift. Any time. *** My husband, Randy, and…
November is a month of personal celebrations and Thanksgiving, a favorite holiday. We’re prompted all month via marquees and commercials to give thanks. We shouldn’t need prompting. And it shouldn’t be a one-month effort. Granted, life isn’t easy for many. However, it usually takes little effort to find someone with…
The topics in this column tie in somehow to the death of our baby Jeffrey, as that is our connection to SMA. I’d like this column to provide even a spark of hope to others finding themselves in devastating circumstances. Consequently, I’ve purposely tried to gravitate toward a sense of…
My husband, Randy, is a beekeeper. I helped him with the bees until an unfortunate rash from a bee sting on my forehead landed me in the emergency room. My dramatic predicament likely stemmed from the combination of the bee’s momentum as she zoomed to the pasture across…
Kevin Schaefer was a cute, spunky, almost-4-year-old when I lucked into a plum friendship with his mama, Cindy. My third baby, Jeffrey, had just been diagnosed with SMA type 1. Kevin, her third child, had a milder form. Cindy and I became fast friends. With three hours’ distance…
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During my Saturday morning errand run, police motioned the cars in my lane to a halt for commencement of the annual Blue Ridge Brutal. The BRB is a grueling ride for bike enthusiasts eager to push themselves beyond the max. “Not for the faint hearted,” one blurb warns.
Because our daughter, Katie, and son-in-law, Paul, live over five hours away, we don’t see them often. Thanks to last year’s lockdown, we hadn’t seen them in 10 months when they pulled off a surprise visit for my birthday last May. That long weekend was stuffed with good…
I had Mrs. Ruby Miner for spelling in the seventh grade. Besides spelling words, we defined, pronounced, and wrote them neatly. Stepping into Room 217 usually brought on a slight spell of jitters, even for this decent speller. I can only imagine the palpitations had I not been an attentive…
I helped my husband, Randy, pluck raspberries from our bountiful bushes the other evening. Shortly after sampling our red, squishy haul, I removed my Crocs to get ready for a shower. Whoa. My eyeballs popped when I spied what looked like blood on the bottom of my foot.
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