Rounding Home: A Memoir of Love, Betrayal, Heartbreak, and Hope with an Intimate Look into Raising a Child with Severe Autism

by Sarah Swindell

  Despite things improving at school through activities, friends, and having a serious boyfriend, I could not get out of that town fast enough. Looking back on my high school years, I have very mixed emotions. For a long time I thought Farmington was a horrible place; but in reality it was more about the people doing horrible things to me, not so much the place. Farmington is actually quite beautiful for a small town. It has a laid-back, easy vibe. I now understand why people love it and see why my parents wanted to retire there. Many of my high school friends live in Farmington to this day and have raised their own families there. It wasn’t Farmington that hurt me, it was a handful of people that did. So in 1988, I decided to make my escape.

  CHAPTER 2

  TWO WEEKS AFTER GRADUATING from high school, I packed up the red Ford Probe sports car my dad surprised me with for graduation. I hugged my parents tightly as tears welled up in my eyes. My dad went over the map he had so lovingly highlighted for me one more time, and my mom made me promise to call from a pay phone at each of my stops during the eight-hour drive. I would be starting summer classes at Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona, with only a few days to settle into my newly furnished dorm room before classes started. I was beyond thrilled to live in a place where nobody knew anything about me, and for the first time in years, I could just be myself in this new warm and sunny place.

  I instantly fell in love with Arizona. I loved how the sun shined every day, and the 100-degree or more weather didn’t bother me in the slightest. Even the fast food restaurants had gorgeous flower pots in front, and streets and sidewalks were spotless. Everyone was beautiful there, and people seemed to always be in a good mood. Probably from the massive amounts of vitamin D in the form of sunshine we were all soaking up.

  I used my six-foot frame to my advantage and signed on with The Elite Agency, one of the top modeling agencies in the country. I had just won second runner-up in the “Elite Look of the Year” contest and was working on entering the Miss Arizona USA Pageant, which had been a huge dream of mine since I was a little girl. I had just pledged a sorority and was starting to make strong, meaningful friendships with those girls as well. My confidence was slowly but surely coming back, and I was the happiest I had been in a very long time. I hardly gave Farmington a second thought.

  Even though I loved the college experience, it was academically challenging for me. I wasn’t really the studious type and struggled in my classes. Sadly for my parents who were paying my tuition, I just stopped going to class. I thought that college wouldn’t really matter, considering the career path I wanted to take. I am sure my parents were disappointed that I wasn’t doing well in my classes; but as usual, they supported whatever I wanted to do with my life, with words of encouragement to follow my dreams.

  I had my life all planned out and knew two things for certain: I wanted to be a star, and I wanted to be a wife and mother. I had found my passion being on stage or a runway and loved all the glamour it provided. I was also keenly aware of how much I wanted my own family, even at a young age. My game plan was to become a mega superstar first, then I would meet and marry my hunky, superstar husband and we would have three or four super cute star babies. I had it all figured out and had absolutely no doubt that was exactly how my life would be.

  One weekend in early 1989, my high school boyfriend Sean came to Arizona for a visit from Farmington. Sean and I were very serious during my senior year in high school, and I was as much in love with him as any eighteen-year-old could be. He was a couple of years older than me and was pretty well known around town as the good-looking star football player from the neighboring small town of Bloomingdale. He was tall and well built with beautiful hazel eyes, dark hair and a quiet personality. But he was also the bad boy who liked to get into fights, drink, and smoke cigarettes and pot on a regular basis. This was a bit scandalous being that he was from a very Mormon family. But, by the time we started dating, he had slowed down a little and was trying to get his life together after graduating high school. I knew I would miss him when I left Farmington but I also knew I needed to pursue a different life path, and it didn’t look like he was going to accompany me on that path.

  We broke up on good terms right before I left for Arizona and vowed to try and see each other when we could, no strings attached. As much as I loved him, I knew I could not stay in Farmington, and he had no plans of ever leaving. But the moment I opened my dorm room door, my heart instantly fell into the all-familiar feeling of love that was so strong in high school. He looked extra gorgeous that day standing in the front doorway of my small kitchen. He made ripped-up jeans look cool before ripped-up jeans were even a thing and could rock a backward baseball hat. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt that showed off his well-tanned, muscular arms, courtesy of the construction job he had over the summer. We certainly didn’t act broken up during that visit, and he went back to Farmington very happy and probably a little tired.

  Let’s just say the couple of times I’d forgotten to take my pill caught up with me. I was already three months along before it was confirmed. I never even noticed I’d missed a period, I just wrote it off to stress or too many college parties. I went home to Farmington for Christmas that year and never returned to school in Arizona. My mom was actually thrilled at the news that she would soon become a grandmother, while I could tell my father was worried about Sean and if he was going to make anything of himself. I am sure they both had better plans about who my future husband would be, but they were supportive and optimistic that all would work out. My father did have a little chat with Sean one night shortly before the wedding.

  “Son, I need you to promise me that you will go to college,” my father said kindly.

  “Yes, sir, I promise. And I promise to take good care of Sarah forever.” It was actually a very real and heartfelt moment with my parents in our living room, and I believed we were doing the right thing, especially now that Sean had agreed to go back to school.

  Sean and I were married in my parents’ home in Farmington just after the holidays in 1989. My long blonde hair hung beautifully French-braided down my back, and I wore a cream-colored, tea-length dress trimmed with lace, mindful of being conservative for our Mormon guests. I have to laugh about that now, being that I was already knocked up, which clearly meant we had sex before marriage. There was no denying why we were getting married so young, as my baby bump was more of a baby mound by this time and difficult to disguise. But I was happy, I was in love and I was certain that everything was going to be just fine. Sean’s father, who was a bishop in the Mormon Church, married us in front of a few family and friends as we stood in the archway of my parents’ dining room. My mother had taken such care to make everything so beautiful that I didn’t even feel like I was in my own home as Sean slid the simple gold band on my finger and we said, “I do.”

  After the shock of having a baby at nineteen years old wore off, I was eager to start my new chapter and couldn’t wait to meet the little life growing inside me. While my dreams of becoming an actress or supermodel had to be put to rest, I was at least going to be the mom I knew I wanted to be, even if it was a tad early.

  Just as Sean had promised my father, he enrolled in college at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. I had never been to Utah and was up for the adventure as we packed up our cars and a small U-Haul with the few pieces of furniture given to us. I remember having a flashback as we pulled out of the driveway of my parents’ home. Less than a year ago, I had pulled out of that same driveway in my brand-new red sports car; now I was in a more family-friendly, used, four-door Pontiac. My life had dramatically changed in such a short period of time, this time I was a little scared to be leaving my parents. I suddenly felt like a little girl who just wanted her mommy, and now I was about to become one.

  We lasted about two months in Provo. I hated it there, was terribly homesick, and school was not working out for Sean. I was terrified of having a baby away from my family in a place that felt like a foreign country and wa
nted to go home so badly. My dad reached out to a friend, asking if he would hire Sean to work for his pipeline company, with the promise he would take classes at the local community college. We packed up once again and headed back to Farmington. This time I wasn’t even too upset about having to move back there, even though it still felt like hell on earth to me. At least we had both of our families close by to help us navigate the journey into parenthood.

  Hayley Jane was born August 22, 1989, and was absolutely perfect in every way. She came so quickly there wasn’t even time for an epidural, not quite part of my game plan, but worth every painful second. As I held her in my arms for the first time, I could not believe how beautiful she was with her cherub face and beautiful brown eyes. I was overwhelmed with joy, gratitude and maybe a little fear that I was now responsible for this tiny human. I was a mommy for the first time and knew things would never be as they once were.

  I don’t think any new mom is really ready for what it is like to have a baby. As young as I was, I thought babies just wanted to snuggle and coo all the time, take naps when you wanted them to nap and sleep through the night after the first month or so. I know for a fact that I could not have survived without the help of my parents. Looking back, I know I struggled with postpartum depression for a short time. I would sit for hours in the rocking chair of our tiny, dark apartment with tears flowing nonstop.

  Eventually, I started a part-time job at a small insurance company owned by the parents of a dear friend from high school. Kyle was my first crush at fourteen when we moved to Farmington, but we mostly stayed best friends over the years. I was very close with Kyle’s mother, who adored Hayley as if she was her very own granddaughter. Thankfully, she offered me a job answering phones at the small insurance company for a little extra money. I couldn’t wait to leave for work the minute my mother came over to stay with Hayley and loved being around other adults at the office for a few hours every day.

  As all my friends were coming home for college breaks, going to parties and out dancing, I was home with a baby who seemed to never sleep. I remember feeling heavy with sadness at times, even though I loved Hayley with every ounce of my being. I was ashamed of these confusing feelings and never discussed it with anyone; was it normal to feel this way? I thought maybe it was my age and the fact that my marriage was starting to turn in the wrong direction.

  I am so grateful that my dark time with depression did not last long, and I soon started feeling like my old self again. Hayley was my whole world as my marriage quickly unraveled. Sean was a good man, but he had a drug issue that, unfortunately, continued to get worse. Pot became something he did first thing in the morning on most days and the last thing he did at night. His idea of a fun Saturday night would be sitting in a friend’s basement drinking beer and smoking. He was content being a laborer barely making more than minimum wage.

  One week we were so short on money that we didn’t have enough cash to buy diapers. I had one diaper left to get Hayley through the night to the next morning. I laid her on the floor with a towel around her tiny body. That towel got us through until bedtime when I could finally put that last diaper on. My mom often brought diapers over when she came to babysit, but I was always too proud to ask for help. Thankfully, she came the next morning with a pack of diapers in hand; she must have read my mind. I never would have dreamed the year before, just how exciting seeing a package of diapers would be!

  I was not at all interested in converting to the Mormon church. Unfortunately, this caused a wedge to form on his side of the family, and was an always-present point of pressure. When I would attend church with Sean and his family, I always felt like an outsider. It seemed to me that women were expected to sort of just sit, be quiet and support their men, who seemed to be held in a higher regard. I felt myself resenting this more and more each day, and I knew I no longer loved Sean the way I should. After less than two years of marriage, just after my twenty-first birthday, I decided I had to leave him. I wanted so much more for Hayley and me, and I could not help but worry about our future. I started to feel the walls of Farmington, New Mexico, closing in all around me once again. I needed to get out as soon as possible.

  The divorce was quick and final a few months later without much of a fight. We had a whopping two hundred dollars in our checking account and no other assets to our names beside our own cars. Hayley and I packed up and moved back to Houston, Texas. We settled into a three-bedroom apartment with my brother Steve, who was kind enough to take us in. I loved being near my older twin brothers, they are the funniest two guys ever, and we have always had a close bond. They were twenty-eight years old, 6'3", handsome, and living life to the fullest. Steve was a bachelor, and I am sure he was happy to have me around to tidy up and cook from time to time. He was kind enough to stay with Hayley if I wanted to go out. I’m sure people in our apartment complex thought we were a happy young couple with a cute little girl.

  My other brother Jeff and his girlfriend Melissa, who is now my sister-in law and adore with all my heart, also helped with Hayley whenever I needed it. I loved that our new apartment, which was a classic brick, two story complex that was right across the street from The Galleria, one of the largest malls in the U.S., complete with an ice-skating rink right in the middle.

  I tried to ignore the guilt I felt for moving so far away from Hayley’s father; I knew he loved us the best he could. The desire for a better life was much too strong to fight, and I felt right at home back in the big city where I’d grown up, far away from Farmington. I knew visits would be hard for Sean, as money was scarce for us both, but I just figured we would work it all out as we went along.

  With the help of my parents and my leftover college money, I entered beauty school and began to pursue my new life and career as a single mother.

  CHAPTER 3

  I WORKED HARD DURING that year in beauty school. I dated a ton and was juggling the single parent thing pretty well. My parents visited us often. They were, and still are, a big influence in Hayley’s life. Even with all the fun I was having, I started to ache for a real, long-term relationship. I never had trouble meeting anyone, but as soon as they found out I was twenty-one with a two-year-old, well, that usually took care of anything serious moving forward.

  After I graduated from beauty school, I quickly landed my first job as an assistant to a French hairstylist in a trendy, upscale salon just around the corner from our apartment. By then I was twenty-two, and Hayley was an adorable three-year-old who stole everyone’s heart with her big brown eyes and sweet disposition. I had started dating a guy named Ben. He was the first guy who didn’t run for the hills when he learned that I had a daughter. He was good friends with both my brothers, very handsome, and I felt safe with him. We always had a great time when we went out, but really weren’t thinking much beyond that.

  In December of 1992, Ben casually asked me if I would set his friend up with my girlfriend, Megan, for a double date. His friend’s name was Greg Swindell, and apparently he was some famous baseball player who had just signed a lucrative contract with the Houston Astros. I was told Greg had been all over the local news and that he was the newest addition, along with Doug Drabek, to the Astros’ big one-two punch the team was looking for.

  I called Megan and teasingly told her, “You owe me for this one! Better go shopping for a new outfit in case you get on the news!” She was all in and I was excited for her.

  We all planned to meet at my apartment for drinks before going out. Expecting that the first knock at the door would be Megan, I was surprised to see Greg in the doorway as the first to arrive. I am a notoriously early bird myself, so I was dressed and ready with a smile and a glass of wine in hand.

  “Hi, you must be Greg, come on in!” My voice sounded a little more excited than it should have.

  “Hi, nice to meet you, Sarah.” I immediately thought, oh no, I am in BIG trouble. My stomach literally flipped, and I felt my face turn hot the second we shook hands. There was an immediate energy
between us, and I almost couldn’t find the words to tell him to come in. He was tall, with a strong, husky build which was right up my ally. He was soft spoken and had an air of confidence, but not cockiness. All I remember is how great he looked in his tight, pressed jeans, crisp button-down shirt and cowboy boots, with lips so perfect that I was already thinking about what it would be like to kiss them. We also had one major thing in common. He also had a little girl from his first marriage, and suddenly I was no longer the only person in my circle of friends with a child.

  Happy everyone else was late, we soon all piled into Greg’s brand-new red pickup truck and headed to dinner. We sat at a cozy table for four, and soon Greg and I quickly fell into natural conversation, laughing; about what, I can’t begin to remember. I almost forgot we were with other people at the table until Ben said something to grab our attention and brought us back to the reality that we were not alone on the date.

  After dinner, we headed to our favorite country bar for more drinks and dancing. I was glad my friend Megan, who was originally from New York, didn’t know how to two-step, and Ben was not a fan either. When Greg asked me if I could two-step, I was thrilled to show off my well-developed skills. I know it sounds a bit cliché, but I felt like we were the only two people on the dance floor. It was something I had never felt before, and I wanted that moment to go on forever. I loved the way he smelled, how his eyes melted into mine as we danced, and how he held me so close it almost made me weak in the knees. After what seemed like forever, we came back to earth and realized we should get off the dance floor noticing the looks on our dates’ faces.