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

by Sarah Swindell

  If I got to the city before the game started, I would go to the stadium, and he would always be able to pick me out in the stands, waving at me vivaciously without caring what the other guys thought. We would walk hand in hand in cities like New York, San Diego, Los Angeles, Boston and Atlanta, shopping without ever even looking at price tags. Spending thousands in a day was nothing to us. We were, no doubt, living large, loving life, and loving each other.

  Some teams let the wives fly with the players on their charter planes, which was really exciting. I loved seeing the real personalities of the players off the field. We would laugh nonstop on those flights. One of the guys loved to stand in the aisle of the plane as it was taking off, with his hands out like a bird, sunglasses on and scarf wrapped around his neck as if in mid-flight on a ski jump. He called himself “Eddie the Eagle,” and he did this on every single takeoff as the plane climbed into the sky. Greg and I would bring mini versions of the games we loved to play at home on the plane, like Yahtzee and Scrabble. We were quickly nicknamed “The Hasbros” by one of the players. Wine, beer and cocktails were plentiful on each flight, and trays filled with snacks would be passed around by flight attendants lucky enough to work those flights. I could see the brotherhood the guys had with each other, as they were family for eight months out of the year. I guess you could say we were all a family.

  I think most people don’t realize that baseball wives are single mothers eight months out of the year. We handle everything from caring for the children, paying bills, carpools, playdates, doctor visits, school registrations, car issues, to organizing and planning a move to a totally different state at the last minute after a trade. I do have to say that when Greg was home, he attended every single kid activity, got up with the babies, helped with meals and took kids to and from school. He was always enthusiastically involved with the family during the off-seasons. As much as I enjoyed the baseball season, the off-season was always my favorite time, because we were a whole family, and I was not the single mom in charge of, quite literally, everything.

  Trust me, I do realize how incredibly lucky I was to be able to have the resources to hire a housekeeper and a babysitter during the baseball years. I remember thinking it was so hard doing it alone. And, yes, it was hard at times, but I usually had someone around to help during the day. I was so fortunate compared to so many other real single mamas out there, who didn’t have the luxury of hiring help and unlimited funds to ease the stress of being alone all the time. I realize how lucky I was, and I have so much respect for moms who are truly going it alone for whatever reason, especially military spouses. Those women (and men!) are true heros.

  In Minnesota, Greg’s career hit a major turnaround. He was back, no longer as a starter, but as a reliever and left-handed specialist. He found a new role and he was good at it. This would end up extending his career for many years to come. After almost two outstanding seasons with the Twins, I got a call from Greg one evening that I was not prepared for.

  “Sarah, I have just been traded to the Boston Red Sox, and I have to leave tonight.”

  I was in my hotel room packing my suitcase to head back to Houston after a three-day visit with Greg when I got the call. I had grown to love the Twins organization and all the wives on the team, and the girls loved being there as well. Even though I was only there in the summer full-time with the kids and during small visits when I could get away, they had become family.

  I now had to fly back to Minnesota to pack up our rental house and organize getting all of our things home to Houston. Breaking the news to our girls was not an easy conversation, either.

  “Mommy, can the Red Sox please ask Samantha’s daddy to come too so we can still play together?” Hayley asked with her sweet innocence.

  “No, sweetie, Sam’s daddy has to stay and help the Twins for the next two years, but we will make new friends on the new team just like we always do!” I explained, choking back my own tears.

  Brenna and Sophia were still too young to really understand that we probably would not be seeing the friends they had made on the Twins, unless we ended up being on the same team somewhere else down the road. They knew that every team had a family room with lots of kids to make friends with, no matter where we were, and it made all the transitions a bit easier.

  It was time to collect myself and remember that it was a very exciting event for Greg. This would be the first chance in his career to make it to postseason play. The Boston Red Sox needed his help in the bullpen to win the Wild Card Division. The Sox did end up winning the Wild Card; however, that was as far as they would advance that season. Greg got a taste of what the road to the World Series was like, and he was hungry for more. The 1998 baseball season had come to an exciting end for Greg and a very tiring end for me.

  The kids were getting more and more active and could be a real handful for me at times, especially with all the travel back and forth to and from Minnesota those last couple of seasons. Yes, I was that poor woman on the plane no one ever wanted to sit near with three little ones in tow. Especially because two of them always seemed to get airsick. Thankfully, it was usually just before landing, and I quickly learned to have extra clothes handy in my oversized purse—not in the overhead bin, I had learned the hard way one very eventful and messy landing.

  Our home base was still in Houston, Texas, and I was there with the kids while Greg finished the season with the Red Sox. He was about to become a free agent since he was at the end of his contract, meaning he was eligible to freely sign with any team that was interested in him. He was coming off two great years as a relief pitcher, and good lefties were in high demand. I could tell Greg was in a much better place mentally after making it through those humbling years. It seemed his career was in a rebirth in a way, now that his days as a starting pitcher were over.

  I still had a place in my heart for Arizona from my brief time at Arizona State, and Greg loved the time he spent there during spring training. I loved the vibrant sunsets in the fall, the mountains sprinkled with cactus, and the thunderous monsoon storms in the summer. The Arizona Diamondbacks were a brand-new team in the Phoenix area and had only been in existence for one year at that time. One day over the phone I casually asked him, “What do you think about making a move to Arizona when you’re done and try to get on the new team there?”

  With a hint of excitement and zero hesitation, he said, “That’s all you had to say.”

  The girls were almost ten, four, and three when we told them the news that we were leaving Texas for good once Daddy was done in Boston. They all squealed with excitement, and Brenna shouted, “I can’t wait to touch a cactus!” Sophia danced around with her beloved pacifier in her mouth, mimicking her older sisters, who were dancing with joy upon hearing the news.

  While we were sad to leave both of our families in Houston, we were excited for our new Arizona adventure. The girls were getting older, and we wanted to stay in one city where we could have Dad around during the season when the team was playing home games. Greg would still be gone half the time, but that also meant he would be home half the time. Brenna would be starting kindergarten soon, and she was blossoming into a smart and, at times, very sassy little lady. She would strike up conversations with just about anyone, from a server at a restaurant, to the attendant at the car wash, which was her favorite place to go. She would explode with joy when Greg would announce he was going. “Chips? Candy? Diet Coke? I LOVE the car wash!” she would exclaim, jumping into Greg’s arms. Brenna was my strong-willed child. She enjoyed testing me more than the other girls did and brought me to tears of frustration more than once. But her fierce independence was so much more of an asset than a liability and would come in very handy later in her life. She was the child who would stick up for anyone who was being mistreated, loved every kind of animal, and was always very keenly aware of everything going on around her. One thing is for certain: She was 100 percent a daddy’s girl.

  Hayley was the classic oldest child, with a constant
need to please everyone, especially me. She was, and still is, one of the kindest young ladies I know, and by far the most sensitive of our three girls, especially during her younger years. She never got into any trouble and was a very strict rule follower. She loved Brenna and Sophia and was the perfect playmate; she made up games, created dance productions for Greg and me to giggle through, and was my little shadow. If Dad was out of town, she always slept in bed with me, her little arm snuggly wrapped around mine. Hayley and I are more like sisters than mother and daughter. Maybe it’s because I had her so young, but mostly because she is so easy to talk to, laugh with and gives the best advice. I sure needed a lot of that through the years.

  Sophia was my sweet and spunky little blondie. She had baby-fine hair that stuck straight up until she was four years old. It reminded me of Tweety Bird. She also was sensitive, did not like getting in trouble, was the most creative, and had the biggest imagination. She was the child who would be happy alone in her room, coloring or playing with her dolls while her sisters were off doing something else. I will say she could throw some serious tantrums if she was overtired or really wanted something; like the red, sparkly shoes I refused to get her at Target one day. I’m not exactly sure, but we might still be banned from that particular store. She has the best sense of humor, and no one can make me cry with laughter more than she can.

  One thing I can say about these amazing daughters of mine, is that from the time they were tiny little ones, to now being grown women, their individual personalities have not changed all that much. Through all the challenges that tested the three of them in various and sometimes terrifying ways, they have stayed much the same, true to their own beautiful and unique qualities.

  CHAPTER 7

  BEING THE HOME-FINDING EXPERT that I am, I found the perfect house in Paradise Valley, Arizona, in just one day. My dear friend and the wife of one of the Minnesota Twins, flew to Arizona with me to house-hunt while Greg was still in Boston. Even now, that house is still a Swindell favorite. It was the centerpiece to three of the best years of our lives, the house we lived in the longest, and the one we wished we had never sold. It was a rambling, one-story Southwest-style home that surrounded a huge pool with a waterfall, a koi pond and citrus trees. Every home in the neighborhood sat on an acre lot, so we had lots of privacy and space for the kids to play, and it was walking distance to the elementary school. It was a tad out of our budget, but I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. I took a video of it with my camcorder and showed it to Greg on a quick trip to Boston for a playoff game.

  “Looks like a winner, I love it!” he said after watching the tiny screen on the camcorder.

  A few weeks later, with the help of my parents, we packed up our Texas home and moved to Arizona. I worked to get the house all ready for Greg when he came home after that final heartbreaking playoff loss with Boston. I was sad the team lost, but beyond happy that my husband was coming home to enjoy a relaxing off-season in our new paradise. When he walked through the door, he could not believe how beautiful the house was. I have to laugh a little that we bought the house without Greg seeing it first, but I laugh even more because it started a trend.

  Our prayers were soon answered, and during that off-season, Greg signed a contract with the Arizona Diamondbacks. Everything was falling perfectly into place, almost too perfectly.

  Greg’s career was going well the first year with the D-backs, and all of the girls were thriving in their new environment. Within a year, the team was stocked with veteran players hungry for a World Series title, which seemed far-fetched, considering they were such a new team. But the chemistry between the players was undeniable, and the city was buzzing with excitement. All of the players were having their own exceptionally good year. It was like the perfect storm—something amazing was about to happen, we all felt it, the entire city felt it.

  I loved being back in Arizona with all the beautiful sunshine-filled days. It was hot, of course, but a totally different kind of heat. It was much more bearable than Houston’s humidity. I was also getting to dabble a little into my dream of being in front of the camera. I was asked to be a regular guest correspondent for the D-backs Playin’ Hardball, a post-game show on TV. I did seven or eight episodes interviewing players’ wives in their homes, as well as segments in ballparks around the United States, speaking with fans in the stands. Sometimes our family would be featured on the show. They would follow us around our house with a camera, capturing a typical day in our lives. We were reality TV before it ever became a thing!

  I was also getting back into modeling, doing commercial print work with the Ford Agency. I was literally living my childhood dreams, just in a different order than I had originally planned, and loving every minute of it. I was extremely busy, but with help, I happily juggled all of it. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have such an amazing life. I was so grateful for everything, especially my beautiful family that I loved with all my heart.

  One night during the off-season, I had a crazy dream that I had a baby boy. With Sophia now three years old, I was having a severe case of baby fever. I ended up deciding to have surgery to untie my tubes. The doctors were able to repair one of my tubes, making it possible for me to get pregnant every other month. Just like a gremlin, you throw water on me and I multiply. When we got the news that we were having a boy, Greg could not contain his tears. I vividly remember the ultrasound technician saying, “Yep, I see a boy part!” It was incredible: We were finally going to have a son who would complete our family perfectly. Greg was proud that the Swindell name would continue on with our new little addition on the way.

  I was sailing right along with the pregnancy, busy getting ready to be a mother of four while the Diamondbacks were leading the pack in their division. Then, out of the blue at thirty-six weeks, I started having real contractions that did not stop. It was too early, so I was admitted to the hospital and given medication to try and stop the labor. The medication made me so sick to my stomach, I vomited violently, which made my water break. There was no turning back once that happened; Dawson was coming early, ready or not. As usual, Greg and I were joking around in the hospital, filming ourselves and being silly once the nausea had subsided and the epidural worked its magic. D-Backs Playin’ Hardball even did a post-game segment on our son’s birth using some of our own family footage, giving baseball fans an intimate peek into our sometimes wacky sense of humor.

  We were hopeful all would be okay, since the baby weighed almost seven pounds, according to the ultrasound. On February 4th, 2001, Dawson Harold was born. But his delivery was very different from the other three, and the joyous moment after your baby is born, when the nurse places your newborn on your chest, lasted only a minute or so. He immediately had trouble breathing, as his lungs had not yet fully developed, even though his size suggested otherwise. Within minutes, the nurses took Dawson from my arms with an unexpected urgency in their worried eyes.

  I remember Greg looking very nervous. He hovered around the clear plastic bassinet as the nurse dutifully checked Dawson’s vitals. The pediatrician on-call came in to look at him and immediately said he needed to go to the NICU. It happened so fast, my legs were still in the stirrups as the nurse hurried Dawson out of my sight, while my heart broke in two.

  A few hours later, he was airlifted to a Level 1 hospital equipped to handle high-risk premature babies. Just before he was transported, they brought him into my room, and I was finally able to really see my son for the first time since his birth. It’s crazy because he looked so perfect. He wasn’t even that small, but he struggled to breathe the minute they took him from under the oxygen hood. I kissed him on his tiny forehead as they took him from my arms once more, off to the waiting helicopter.

  My heart shattered having to let him go. I was panicked that I might never see him again. Tears poured down my face as I heard the helicopter outside my hospital window take off. The next morning I was well enough to join him at the other hospital. I could not wait to
see him again. I have to admit, Dawson was nothing like the other tiny premature babies. He looked like a mini Sumo wrestler in comparison to the tiny three-pound girl in the incubator next to him. After just five days, Dawson was ready to come home and was doing remarkably well. I felt like we had dodged a life-changing bullet and was grateful beyond words to be taking our little boy home to his eagerly waiting sisters.

  Life was slowly getting back to normal, and I was getting used to all the craziness that having four children brings to a household. Luckily, I found the most amazing lady in the world to help me out while Greg was gone. I hate to use the word “nanny” or “housekeeper,” because she was so much more than that. Maria was a part of our family, as were her two children. Without her, I would have lost my mind many times during the days when Greg was on the road. She was the kindest, most loving person in the world, and best of all, she loved my children as her own. Maria, her husband and her kids were part of our family for many years, and we still stay in touch. My parents, especially my mom, were also pivotal for my mental survival. They stayed with the kids many times so I could meet Greg on the road.

  The Diamondbacks were on fire and had won the National League Championship in only their fourth year of existence. For many of the veteran players, Greg included, it would be their first shot at a World Series title. It was a magical team that year, and something special was brewing in that locker room.

  Then it happened: September 11, 2001, America was attacked. Everything stopped, including baseball.

  Greg came in the door from dropping the kids off at school and said, “Shit is going down, babe!”