Going Rogue: An American Life (53 page)

SARAH

PALIN

they wouldn’t be petceived as intetfeting with a sepatate btanch of government’s wotk.

The radio host said, “Hell, boot camp? It’s no big accomplishment CO be gtaduating from boor camp. What’s the big deal?” I knew when my eighteen-yeat-old son enlisted and would be deployed to Iraq that the country was lucky CO have him and every other patriot who volunteered CO serve. And I was determined co be there to say “Thank you.”

I ended up being able CO give my State of the State Address on the scheduled day, but at a different time, so we missed Fort Benning’s family-day events. But we got there in time for Todd to place rhe blue cord around our son’s right shoulder, to watch our boy become a man, CO see the U.S. military gain another of America’s finest. And it
was
a big deal.

I was busy shuttling back and forth to Juneau, with energy and education reform issues stacked on our administration’s plate. Todd and I kept thinking,
knowing,
that we had CO tell Track, Briscol, Willow, and Piper about the baby, but I still didn’r look pregnant, so I figured still had rime. Every once in a while 1’d

drop hints for them:
Sometimes life throws you a curveball, but how
thankful we should be that life is never boring. Sometimes surprising challenges pop up; then we see what we’re made of as we make choices about

how to react to the circumstances.

1’d always journaled throughout my life, and now I also began writing a lerter about the baby to our family and closest friends. In my research on Down syndcome, I learned that these special kids mosr often bring joy inco their family’s lives. While they had developmenral challenges, they were also affecrionate, generous, and cheerful. Rather than focus on whar could be perceived as negative, I wanted loved ones CO focus on the fact that this

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baby, every baby, has purpose, and that not only would he learn from us, but we would learn from him.

I decided to write the letter as though it were from Trig’s Creator, the same Creator in whom I had put my trusr more than thirty years before. I hoped that even though rhis new baby would present challenges, we’d rrust that God knew best, that He didn’r make mistakes:

I am blessing you wirh this surprise baby because I only want the best for you. I’ve heard your prayers that this baby will be happy and healthy, and I’ve answered them because I only want the best for you!

I heard your heart when you hinted that another boy would fit best in the Palin family, to round it out and complete that starcing five line-up. Though another girl would be so nice, you didn’r think you could ask for what you really wanted, but I knew, so I gave you a boy.

Then, I put the idea in your hearts that his name should be

“Trig;’ because it’s so fitting, with two Norse meanings: “‘True”
and “Brave Victory” …

Then, finally, I let Tcig’s mom and dad find out before he was born that this little boy will truly be a GIFT. They were told in early tests that Tcig may provide more challenges, and more joy, than what they ever may have imagined or ever asked
for. At first the news seemed unreal and sad and confusing.
But I gave Trig’s mom and dad lots of time to think about it because they needed a lot of time to understand that everything will be OK. …

This new person in your life can help everyone put things in perspective and bind [you] together and get everyone focused on what really matters. The baby will expand your world and let you see and feel things you baven’t experienced yet. He’ll show

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SARAH

PALIN

you what “true, brave victory” really means as those who love him will think less about self and focus less on what the world tells you is “normal” or “perfect.” … Trig will be his dad’s litrle buddy and he’ll wear Carhartts while he learns to

in rhe garage, He’ll love to be read

to, he’ll want to play goalie, and he’ll steal his mom’s heart just like Track, Bristol, Willow, and Piper did. And Trig will be the cuddly, innocent, mischievous, dependent litrle brothet that his siblings have been waiting fot . , . in fact Trig will-in some diagnosric ways-always be a mischievous, dependent little btother, because I created him a bit different than a lor of babies born into this world today.

Every child is created special, with awesome purpose and amazing potential. Children are the most precious and promising ingredient in this mixed-up world you live in down there on
earth. Trig is no different, except he has one extra chromosome.
Doctors call it “Down syndrome,” and Downs kids have challenges, bur can bring you much delighr and more love than you
can ever imagine!
…

Trig’s mom and dad don’t want people to focus on the baby’s
extra chromosome. They’re human, so they haven’t known how
to explain this to people who are so caring and are interested in this new little Alaskan. , .. Some will think Trig should not be allowed to be horn because they fear a Downs child won’t be considered “perfect” in your wotld….

Many people will express symparhy, bur you don’t want or need that, because Trig will be a joy. You will have to trusr me on this,

I know it will take rime to grasp this and come to accept that I only want the best for you, and I only give my best. Remember though: “My ways are not your ways, my thoughts are not your thoughts . . , for as the heavens are higher than the earth, my
ways are higher than yours!”

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I wrote that all down for

in the Good Book! Look it up!

You claim that you believe me-now ir’s time to live out that belief!

Trig can’t wait to meet you. I’m giving you ONLY THE

BEST!

Love,

Trig’s Creator, Your Heavenly Father

Writing that letter was the best and most loving way I could find to share our news with the people we loved. I had no idea that a year later during the vice presidential campaign a hostile journalist would use it to mock my family and the Christian faith, saying I was so self-absorbed that I even wrote a letter “in the voice of God.”

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Todd is a four-time champ of the Iron Dog race, the world’s longesr and roughest cross-country snowmachine race. The teams consist of two hardcore racers from anywhere in the world on a pair of sleds (“snowmobiles” in Minnesota talk). They buddy up to pound their bodies 2,200 miles across Alaska in windchill temperatures that can dip to minus 60 degrees in whiteout blizzard conditions. The race is held in the middle of February, our coldest time of year, and Iron Dog widows usually spend Valentine’s Day checking GPS coordinates on the Internet to see if their sweerhearts are srill alive.

Women have raced too, and someday they’ll win. “I really want to tun the Iron Dog,” I cockily told Todd one night as he setrled down for a few hours’ rest between 120-mph training rides by himself in the middle of the night.

“Can you wrench your own machine?” he asked.

“Nope.”

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SARAH

PALIN

“Can you get the back end of a six-huridred-pound machine unstuck by yourself with open water up to your tbighs, then change out an engine at forty below in the pitch black on a frozen river and replace rhrashed shocks and jury-rig a suspension using tree limbs along the trail?”

“Nope.”

“Then go back to sleep, Sarah.”

Iron Doggers race through snowpacked mountain ranges and skip across the open water of the Bering Sea, avoiding ice chunks in the dark of night. They swerve to avoid moose on a trail at 100

miles per hour while sleep-deptived undet a disorienting Notthern Lights-filled sky. Todd stays in shape yeat-tound fot the tace but still drops about fifteen pounds along the trail between Big Lake, Nome, and Faitbanks every year.

The racers pair up fot safety reasons, I suppose so that if one guy crashes into an iceberg, his partner can mentally mark where the body lands. Todd’s partner is a racing icon, Scott Davis, who’s taken rhe crown seven times. The guys look alike in their race gear, with slim, muscular builds and, by now, salt-and-pepper hair. You can’t even tell them apart once they get their duct tape on. All guys wear it to protecr exposed skin from frostbite. It’s not a pretty sight when they tip it off theit faces at race check
points and chunks of skin come with it.
Ttailbteakers move through to mark the ttail before the racers take off. A couple of years ago one of them was caught in an avalanche. It took ten days to find the guy’s body buried in the snow. We’ve lost a few ftiends that way.

In 2008, Todd and Scott, the defending champs, wete on pace to finish up just fine. Four hundred miles to go, and they reached the village of Galena. Flying actoss the snowpack at 80 miles per hour, Todd was trailing Scott when he slammed into a hidden obstruction buried in the snow-covered ttail. The impact launched
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