Chapter 8: School Starts

Every year, I read a poem to my 8th graders called “The Sun Goes Down on Summer.” It’s about this fear that “when summer goes, I go with it.” I read it for me, just as much as for them, because I like to be reminded to keep things in perspective. It’s too easy to get bogged down in the “noise and people and schedules.” The poem also reminds me of the circle of each season. One thing I love about teaching is that each year brings a new season, a new start.

Before children, the years tumbled together. Chris and I skimmed through life, changing little. Seasons came and went. But with kids, the passage of time (and seasons) is much more obvious. In just two years, Eloise went from a helpless baby to a sassy, spirited girl. She also left the influence of home, and started her first year of preschool.

It was strange being on the other side of school and filling the role of overprotective parent. I didn’t realize how emotional it would be for me. Eloise timidly walked to the classroom, gripping my hand. I started to say how much I loved her, how proud I was, how much fun she would have… when she looked up at me with those big, blue eyes and said, “Can I have my blanky?” Heart. Sank. Without a second glance, she walked confidently into the classroom.

I knew then that she would be fine – even without me. She would make her own decisions, form her own opinions. My job is just to hold her hand until she’s ready.

Chapter 7: Cheap Thrills

Chris and I love the following things, in no particular order: food, family, and travelling. Mix it all together, and you get… (drum roll please) our annual summer road trip! With more time, and less money than last year, we decided to invade our family members' homes all across Middle America. And to make it even more enticing, since a newborn and 2 year old aren’t enough, we decided to take our sheepdog/Lab named Cade.

We looked like the Griswolds, stuffed into our wagon, suspension sagging, as we rolled from Oklahoma to Missouri, and Ohio, then Kansas. There were moments when I thought I might lose my sanity – with Duke screaming, Eloise sobbing, and Cade reeking. But, then there were moments when we were sitting together – laughing at Eloise or cooing at Duke – and my heart swelled with happiness.

I used to get envious of my friends who got to take fabulous vacations. I would look at their pictures on some exotic beach – sun in their eyes, smiles on their faces. Then, I look at the picture of our luau at Lake of the Ozarks. We’re a thousand miles from the nearest beach, eating leftover fettuccini because the fish we bought was rotten, wearing cheap/plastic leis. Hawaii? Who needs it? We had each other.

Chapter 6: Timing is Everything

In March, I told my OB that my family had bought their plane tickets to be here for our baby’s delivery. I tagged it with, “My mom was wondering if you could work on lining up the baby’s arrival with theirs?” Wink, wink. I didn’t think it was that funny, but apparently he did. And after slowing his breathing down from his obnoxious guffaw, Dr Love lectured me on the absurdity of their purchase. He suggested that if they wanted to see the baby, they should buy tickets for two weeks past the due date. They didn’t.

The problem with my family is that they live and die by their calendars. A family vacation wouldn’t be complete without everyone pulling out their calendars to plan the next get together. Heck, we spend more time planning than we do doing. Regardless, all four family units had lined up their schedules, and the stars, to be in Austin right around D Day, April 24th.

The other problem with my family is that they like to be right. So, I knew that they all selfishly wanted to see the baby – not just for my sake – but so that they could say, “I told you so.” Luckily, they had their way. I went into labor Friday night, and had Duke Ryan Hecker, Saturday afternoon.

April 24th.

I had secretly hoped that I would deliver without the chaos. That it would be just Chris and me in the room as we welcomed our second child – just like the first time. But, there was something so meaningful about having my mom and youngest sister right beside me. To see the blood line actualize and the story continue. It was simply beautiful.

Chapter 5: Stranger than F___________

In November, 2003, we drove to Tennessee for Thanksgiving with my side of the family. We were living with Chris’s parents at the time, and I remember driving away watching Frank and Cindy in the rearview mirror – coffees in hand and robes pulled tightly. We didn’t know it at the time, but that chilly morning was the last time we would see Chris’s dad. No, he didn’t die. At least not a physical death. It was more of a relational suicide when he decided to walk away from his marriage and his family.

Now, fast forward seven years and many memories later. It was February when Cindy gets a call from Frank saying he’s driving to Austin and would like to see everyone. Keep in mind, not only had we not seen Frank since he left, we hadn’t even heard his voice. He was a ghost. A distant, faded memory of a man. We had stopped wondering if he would return and we never acknowledged his name to our daughter.

Coincidently, Chris’s sister, Danielle, and her husband, Brent, were also in town for the weekend. So, we all agreed to meet for dinner and “catch up.” One big, happy, dysfunctional family reunion. Over fajitas, we told him about our lives and our accomplishments. Eloise was silly. The waitress took our photo. We hugged and said we should do it again. Then we drove home.

And we haven’t seen or heard from him again. It’s strange how life happens. You think you have a plan, and BOOM, something happens. You pray for reconciliation, and silence, nothing happens. People say that everything happens for a reason. But, I just can’t figure this one out…