Happy August!
If somebody played the word association game with me and asked me to list my first thoughts associated with August, they’d be: 1) back to school, and 2) summer transitioning to fall. I’d consider related back-to-school habits: shopping for clothes and shoes, planning outfits, checking school supply lists, comparing schedules, and anticipating fresh starts. I’d prepare for our lush green lawn to fade and my potted plants to bloom their last bursts of color before turning brown from frost exposure. I’d want to take in breathtaking sunsets on long evening walks, wear hoodies with shorts and socks with sandals, wake to misty mornings and rainy days punctuated with brilliant sunshine.
Even though I think of these happy things associated with August, I also have some less delightful summer-fall memories. It’s interesting how our brains connect memories to seasons and holidays. August means all of the lovely things I listed above, but I also have some less-delightful memories.
In August 2009, I was 7 months pregnant with Sean. We were a couple of weeks into back-to-school season, and I was in the midst of the morning off-to-school shuffle--making lunches and checking backpacks when I heard a thump above me. I was annoyed. Ricky was supposed to be getting his nice picture day shirt on, but he was clearly messing around. Another thump and scream let me know that this was more serious than just messing around. Andrew had followed Ricky’s jump off the top bunk of their bed and landed straight-legged, snapping his femur. We spent a few days at the hospital where doctors fitted 2 ½ year old Andrew with a spica cast, which doubled his weight and left him mostly immobile. While casted, he could only go from one place to another if somebody carried him, pulled him in a huge red wagon donated by caring neighbors, or slid him along the hardwood floors on top of a fuzzy blanket. Weeks of carrying him up and down stairs, lifting him in and out of the stroller, and transferring him into the weird contraption they gave us to make car rides “safe” hurt my back. A few of my maternity shirts had holes torn in the front of them from his rough cast. That fall, Andrew and I rarely left the house because he was so hard to move and I worried about him becoming a projectile on car rides. It was a long, lonely 8 weeks followed by more weeks of recovery where he learned to walk all over again.
Another challenging August was when Gavin was born one month premature by emergency C-section. I spent a few days in the hospital, and Gavin was in the NICU for about a week. When we were finally home, I was sitting on our bedroom floor with 5 back-to-school lists laid out in a row and a cluster of Walmart bags filled with the school supplies I had purchased (luckily) before Gavin’s delivery. I had a bad headache, but I was determined to get the school supplies sorted before back-to-school night. Besides, I told myself, the headache was simply a symptom of hormonal shifts or exhaustion, and it would subside eventually. After some time, though, I could hardly read the lists. It felt like my eyes might pop right out of my head. I gave up the task and tried lying down. When this and medicine didn’t work, I realized my headache needed professional care. After evaluation at the hospital, I was readmitted for another couple of days for postpartum preeclampsia. I missed back-to-school nights, and the first week or two of school were a blurred practice in pure survival.
The next August, our soon-to-be high school senior, Emily, had a surgery that left her with a painful open wound requiring around-the-clock care, followed by another surgery to remove her wisdom teeth with more complicated healing than expected.
A few Augusts later, in 2023, our family made happy memories when Emily and Logan got married. Though I was struggling with my health (pesky migraines and extreme anemia that I didn’t find out about until later), I felt very grateful to be with our whole family (minus Ricky, who was serving a mission). Emily was a beautiful bride, and she and Logan threw a super-fun celebration. We returned to Pennsylvania with 4 back-to-schoolers.
A few weeks later, my Dad died in an accident. We traveled back to Utah for his funeral. Though the occasion was sudden and sorrowful, it was another family event that I remember with joy. We rented a cabin that accommodated our entire family, including my siblings, aunt and uncle, and their families. Ricky had just gotten home from his mission. My best friend came and made us delicious meals. We celebrated my birthday. It was a bittersweet time.
Just a couple of weeks ago, our family was together again to celebrate another wedding. Ricky and Avery are a lovely couple, and we had so much fun with them. Throughout the course of the week, little things we did reminded me of both the good and not-so-good of past Augusts.
When we prepped the flowers for the centerpieces at the rehearsal dinner, I remembered the work we did on flowers for Emily’s reception and how we vowed to never do it that way again. I also remembered going to the flower shop with Mom, Cathy, and Daniel in Monticello to choose flower arrangements for Dad’s funeral.
When Andrew showed us all his magnificently bulky muscles, I remembered his skinny leg when it came out of the cast. The slightly smaller muscles on his right leg show evidence of that injury seventeen years later.
When we celebrated Gavin’s birthday on the same day as the rehearsal dinner, I remembered the circumstances of his birth--the stress and uncertainty. I also remembered my birthday party the day before Dad’s funeral, and the poignancy of my family being together to celebrate both him and me.
As I gathered pictures of Ricky and Avery for a photo slideshow to play in the background of the rehearsal dinner, I remembered gathering pictures for Emily’s wedding and Dad’s funeral.
When Emily and Logan got the crowd dancing at Ricky’s reception, I remembered the excellent dance party at their reception and all of the dance parties we have had in our kitchen when trying to motivate ourselves to do the after-dinner cleaning.
Each August memory is imbued with gratitude for the generosity and thoughtfulness of others, and for the sacrifices people have made to lift and love members of our family. Each challenge has been accompanied with kindness and miracles.
We have experienced a lot as a family, and I know we’re not even halfway down the road. It’s hard to describe how I feel about that. I guess I could call it peaceful remembering paired with hopeful anticipation. I know life has its ups and downs--sometimes simultaneous ups and downs. I know there will be more sorrow just as I know there will be more joy. Through it all, I believe God knows us and I can trust Him. He knows what I worry about, what challenges me, and what gets me stuck. He knows these things about the people I love too. He knows how circumstances change and what things will not change. He knows our strengths and how our experiences can shape us. It’s a good life, and by good I don’t mean perfect. I mean, right. There is healing. There is joy. I’m happy to experience each season, each year, and each trial and triumph in turn.
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