When Erin picked us up at the Denver Airport, it was the first time we’d seen each other since my wedding. I was so thankful that our friendship was intact, because there had been some tension between us over the past year and a half. Her wedding had been a month after mine, and while I had really been looking forward to going, I’d decided at the last minute not to make the trip.
She and her husband, Fran, had an amazing how-we-met story. When Erin moved to Boulder to attend journalism school, she’d reconnected with some friends from her hometown in North Dakota. Fran was the dreamy older brother, and Erin seemed to know immediately that he was the guy for her. She loved everything about him, from his curly blond hair and blue eyes, to his love of books and music. She was so smitten that she could rattle off a list of famous men named Francis. Frank Sinatra…Francis Ford Coppola, etcetera. The bride and her Francis had grown up just down the road from each other in a town of 2,500. Since Fran was several years older, they hadn’t gone to school together, but little Erin had taken piano lessons from Fran’s mom, the woman who would become her mother-in-law.
So why hadn’t I gone to the wedding of this perfectly adorable couple? I don’t have a great excuse. After my own wedding, John and I had immediately moved from Chicago to Central Illinois, and things had gotten rough right away. On our honeymoon, actually. So a few weeks before Erin’s wedding, my mind had been a mess. I’d already started to ask the question that precedes many a divorce: “Just how hard is marriage supposed to be?” In the face of such stress, I had retreated into stunned helplessness, and just two weeks before Erin’s wedding, I’d called her to say that I wouldn’t be coming. She didn’t admit it at the time, but she was mad. And rightfully so, because I hadn’t let on that I was having marriage problems. Plus, she had just traveled to Minnesota and spent gobs of money on being a bridesmaid in my ill-fated wedding.
After some time had passed, Erin and I had talked openly about her wedding. I’d apologized, and it seemed like we’d be able to move past it. So when Daniela, Andrea, and I arrived in Colorado, I was so relieved to find that things felt normal between us. Collectively, it had been a hell of a year. The four of us had dealt with the deaths of a parent, two grandparents, and a pet; a breakup; a divorce; career changes; moves; financial struggles; home buying; and the challenges of balancing grad school, work, and play. The last thing we needed was any drama with each other.
What we did need was copious amounts of Easter candy, which Erin had arranged in cute little baskets for each of us. We did need to go for a run together around a pretty little mountain pond, sit in the outdoor hot tub, and go out for a long leisurely dinner. We did need to have a two-hour dance party on Friday night to a long list of guilty-pleasure songs. Erin downloaded songs on demand—stupid tracks with good beats that we’d never buy in the light of day. Songs that reminded us of middle school dances or college keggers. Of-the-moment hip-hop that made us feel more hip than we were.
The trip was exactly what I needed as I transitioned from one job to the next and prepared to move out on my own for the first time since leaving my ex-husband. The four of us brought out the best in each other, and I loved the laughter, the storytelling, and the lounging around in sweatpants. My heart was soaring high, and it’s a good thing we got our dancing in on Friday, because I was worthless after what happened on Saturday. My dad called to break the news that there was something really wrong with my 6-month-old nephew.
Ethan had been taken by ambulance to the children’s hospital. It hadn’t been just a stomach bug and dehydration after all. I had trouble processing all the information my dad was sharing, but I knew I’d heard “brain,” “bleeding,” and eye damage,” and it was like a bad dream that just kept getting worse. Ethan’s diagnosis was unimaginable: Shaken Baby Syndrome. Oh, God. No, no, NO. I threw myself down on the futon as I tried to wrap my head around the idea that someone had willingly hurt a child. A child that I loved dearly. Our little hope in a diaper.
There was an investigation under way, and Andy and Hilary were under an incredible amount of stress. Not only was their baby sick, but someone had hurt him, and anyone who had recently cared for him was a suspect, including, for the time being, them. Dear readers, can you imagine the horror? They readily agreed to lie-detector tests and cooperated fully with the police, and I knew on a gut level that neither they nor any of Ethan’s other relatives would ever harm him. He had been a preemie, and if anything, his family was fiercely protective of him. No, this was at the hands of someone else, and Ethan’s daycare provider—the woman who’d been trusted to care for him—couldn’t stick to a story.
Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to be home in Minnesota, near my family, near Josh. Hell, I would’ve paid a few thousand bucks just to be able to hug my dog. Thank God I was in the next best place to home. While I no longer felt like dancing, I was with my second family, and I was in good hands.
*****
Blog Housekeeping
Thanks to all my readers who left comments with good advice this week! I’ve created a Fast Track page, so please spread the word about Divorced Before 30. I think it will be a lot easier for people to catch up now.
Many of you already “like” the Divorced Before 30 Facebook page, but in case you haven’t check it out, you should! I’ve posted photos of many of the main characters in this story.
Thanks to “criticalcrass” at quirky pickings and Debra from Housewife Eclectic for passing on blog awards to me this week!
[...] Walk for Thought in October. Their son, Ethan, had recovered fully from the Shaken Baby Syndrome injury he’d suffered in the spring. Team Ethan raised more funds than any other team, and we had a [...]
Wow! I so didn’t expect that. How horrible. I hope Ethan is ok now.
I remember when I brought my son home at first I thought any jostle might be too rough on his brain. I know that kids are durable but it also makes me realize that there is little “accident” in shaken baby syndrome. Ugh.
Liz´s last blog ..Couch to 5k – week 8
We sure didn’t expect it either!
Wow, this post went from uplifting to tragic in a second.
Your reconnection with friends, dancing to old songs, makes me nostalgic.
I wondered if I didn’t provide enough transition from uplifting to tragic, but it was that abrupt in real life!
Emma, I was stunned to read this. My heart goes out to you, Ethan, and his parents. How tragic to have taken every step to protect your fragile, new little bundle of life … only to find that someone else whom you trusted to join in that caring has actually done damage. I hope that woman is kept away from children forever.
Thanks, Jane. I hope that Ethan’s parents will read these comments and feel the solidarity. It’s been three years, but the pain is still there.
Dear, amazing Emma,
I seem to have the slowest reading speed among those in the Seven Sisters Thread(!), but I have enjoyed every minute of your blogoir, and I look forward to the next post (among other reasons, I am hoping for good news about Ethan).
Your ability to balance eloquence, humor, and intelligence is consistent and often stunning. I’m glad you’re a presence in the blogosphere.
- Katie
Katie Gates´s last blog ..Seeking Balance on the Highest Court
Thanks, Katie. I am so amazed when people take the time to catch up. I really appreciate it! This is one of the nicest comments I’ve ever received.
Great idea on the “fast track” – love it. Hope the numbers start going up for you, but either way, still a fantastic blog
Thanks, Jolene!
How horrible, I hope Ethan’s okay. I am finally caught up on your blog so I looked for the next post to see what happened. Hope you write it soon, I am hanging here.
Hiromi´s last blog ..What is success?
Thanks, Hiromi. I’m working on the next post. I appreciate you taking the time to catch up!
you’re welcome. happy to pass it along. :]
c.c.´s last blog ..how selfish could you possibly be?
and no, i can’t imagine that. i don’t want to. i can imagine, however, shaking the bejesus out of whoever shook that precious baby boy. i can’t comprehend why a person can’t set the child down until he or she is calm enough to handle a baby. i looked up sbs after i read this, and the injuries from it are ugly. i hope he’s okee.
c.c.´s last blog ..how selfish could you possibly be?
I know. When I hear about anyone hurting any child, I get so riled up!
No, I can’t imagine and I really don’t want to.
I know. It’s hard enough to see a kid with an ear infection!
oh, that just breaks my heart – how is Ethan, ok? I am sad…
Terra´s last blog ..Escape Route
Thanks for your comment. Working on the next post!
I will go ahead and say that when I talked to you on the phone that day it was probably the second most difficult call of life, only behind calling H to initially inform her of the situation. It seems like a long time ago now but unfortunately I still remember everything about it.
It still doesn’t seem fair, but I just hope that your story helps prevent some other children from getting hurt!
That is awful. I work in childcare and I can’t imagine why someone would have that job if they couldn’t actually care for a child? I am sorry you had to go through this. I hope justice was served.
Thanks for your note. Thankfully, most of the people who work in childcare look at it the way you do! Thanks for your comment.
Whoa! This was so nice and I was thinking about what crack I’d make about all of you being in banana sweats – if you have to ask you don’t get know – and then…
For all of you wondering what the heck “banana sweats” are, they are bright yellow athletic gear from my alma mater!
I am angry. As I am sure all of you were. I just don’t understand why someone would feel the need to harm a child. Especially a 6 month old baby! And why was that woman even working as a daycare provider?! Ughh
I know. It’s hard to imagine how these things can ever happen. Thanks for your comment.
I am furious at the moment. My parents took in medically fragile foster children most of my life, some of them were infants who had been shaken, and I never with anyone or this story have gotten over the intense desire to hurt these selfish adults. I can’t imagine the anger the parents felt. I think I would have to be restrained, to keep from throwing punches.
Debra´s last blog ..Wednesdays on the Web: Facebook
Wow, Debra. That’s wonderful that your parents did foster care. It must have been a really good learning experience for you. And, yes, Ethan’s parents definitely felt some pretty serious emotion when this all happened.