Eli Connor... One Year and A Day

On little Eli Connor's one year anniversary of a very short life, I would like to make an entry on "The Blog." It's a chance for me to review the last year and thank all the people that have helped us.

For me there are parallels between little Connor's life and US Airways Flight 1594 that landed in the Hudson River on January 15th earlier this year. I love the following picture captured (I think) by a Coast Guard surveillance camera. For me it represents everything good that humanity has to offer. I love this picture because it represents what went right.


I'm sure the flight started out like any other, safety presentation by the flight crew (which is ignored for the most part) and take-off. You watch the runway fall away and the city shrink behind as you climb to altitude. And then in a moment everything changes, everything is different, no expected outcomes and no knowledge what the next few minutes, hours or days will hold. A traveler's worst nightmare materialized for everyone on that airplane.

A few lines from a poem taken from "A High Priest of Good Things to Come" about being adrift that resonates deeply with Jennifer and I.

It darkens. I have lost the ford.
There is a change on all things made.
The rocks have evil faces, Lord,
And I am [sore] afraid.

I distinctly remember the day we spent up at McKay Dee Hospital, in a high-level ultrasound to determine the baby's gender and verify that he was developing normally. We were chatting with the radiologist as she completed the usual ultrasound examination. We decided to capture the exam on DVD since it would give us a fun memento and keepsake.

After some time, I noticed that the radiologist was studying some organs that had previously been examined. I remarked that he appeared to have a hole in his heart. At that point, the radiologist confirmed my observation and voiced other concerns about his development. We spent the next 30 minutes being taken on a guided tour of our little boy's issues, coreoplexis cysts, no visible stomach, possible TEF, and then the realization that life would not be the same for us, he had no fore arms. I brushed the other "issues" off as being things that medicine could "fix", but I realized that medicine, as good as it is, couldn't give our little boy arms where there were none.

We have never watched the ultrasound video, I don't know if we ever will.

I remember the excitement Jen and I shared when we realized that we would be having another boy. We wanted another boy for many reasons, two of which were a friend for Hayden and a chance for the girls to be part of a newborn baby since they were too young to appreciate each others births. There was the anticipation of who's body he would have, who's eye color, who's hair line, what would his personality be like, would he reflect Jen's artistic traits or my analytical abilities. Our two girls are as different as night and day, yet they both drew from the same pool of genetic possibilities. Our oldest boy is a tiny jock.

I want to turn back to the US Airways flight that landed in the Husdon River. I read everything I could find about it on a daily basis for weeks. For some reason I was captivated by that event. The passenger's stories, people recounting their thoughts of being on board an aircraft that was going to crash. What they felt. What they did. What happened in the cockpit.

I remember reading one man's account of the ditching. He located the nearest emergency exit and made plans for getting out when the time came. He assessed the individual sitting next to the emergency door and was concerned about his ability to do the job. After the fact, he commented that the guy was "Johnny on the Spot." The exit-row passenger had the emergency door open and had thrown it out the hole before anyone even realized it.

Flight 1594 was a dichotomy of anomalies. It was the tragedy that was, but then again, it wasn't. On that flight, everything went wrong, but then again, everything went right. The captain was level-headed and calm, he assessed his options in seconds and made the right choice. The pilots put the plane down with minimal air-frame damage. For the most part, the passengers were calm, they got all the emergency exits open and everyone got out. Panic didn't cost any lives. The plane didn't sink. The flight crew did everything right. Local ferry boat captains were on the scene within minutes. The pilot checked the cabin twice and was the last man out.

The US Airways flight was a fracture in the ordinary events of life that allowed mankind a glimpse of how good people can be when we are kind, selfless, and brave. Everyone cooperated and many put the well being of others ahead of their own.

Little Eli's situation went from anticipation to a nightmare. A child with abnormalities, possible mental disabilities, and then not even a chance of being born alive. Everything went wrong. But then again, everything went right.

We have been the recipients of compassion and kindness, people willing to listen and people who cried. We have been trusted with others personal experiences that provide insight and perspective. There are many who care and those that have cautiously reached out to lift up our hands when they hang down.

We are thankful for a doctor and nurse that were willing to help Eli reach full-term so that he could be born alive.


We are grateful for the snow that fell the day he was born, and again on his first birthday.

I am grateful to the owner of a small flower shop in Salt Lake that spent Christmas Eve preparing beautiful flower arrangements for our house, so that Jen didn't have to come back to an empty home. The shop owner hunted all over Salt Lake to find enough flowers to put the arrangements together. She stayed four hours beyond her posted closing time.


I am grateful for Eli Connor's aunt that flew over from Europe at her own expense to be there with Jen when Eli was born.


There were the photographers from NILMDTS, Julie Williams and Miyo Strong that took many stunning photos of Eli's little body and tiny life.


Bret Barton who put together a beautiful pictorial essay of Eli's life.



Members of our local congregation that were inspired and dared to reach out. There were those that helped with food, money for his headstone, and families who watched the other kids while Jen and I were away.

Thanks to those that remembered him on his first birthday.



I will always remember...

• The balloons that we let go on the day of his funeral. It had been cold, frozen and overcast all day. The sun broke through the clouds on the drive to the cemetery and shone during his service. We watched the balloons go up above the clouds, so high that they were just tiny specks. We all stayed after and visited with friends and family, the warm sun made it pleasant to linger and talk.

• People that listened. Those that cried.

• Angel Watch and Rainbow Kids, who helped us plan and cope.

• Claudia Kalb that listened to our story and wrote about Jen and Eli in Newsweek.

• Friends that we met in Washington DC that taught Jennifer and I about grief and death. We met three families within a six month period that were dealing with these issues. All lost loved family members at inopportune times. They were all good examples of dealing with loss in a noble way. They are examples of "Endure It Well."

• We have may poignant memories frozen in time. I watched my daughter silently cry as she played the piano one afternoon. Full of emotion, tears ran down her cheeks and splashed on the keys. I watched as she wiped them away and struggled to play.

• The fear that Eli Connor's birth so close to Christmas might ruin the holiday season for our family forever after, followed by the realization that his birth, short life and death have instilled in our family a reverence for Christmas that did not exist before.

Thank You to all who have been a part of our lives in the last two years. We are grateful for your love and concern for our welfare.

Eli Connor's first birthday was good. We celebrated. Jen and I talked. We spent time with family. We released balloons. We ate a special dinner together as an immediate family. We laughed at Hayden.

The day was everything I had hoped it would be.

It was a chance to look back and remember how good people can be.

Thank You Everyone!

Merry Christmas.

Spencer