Monday, December 3, 2012

Holidays 2012


Last year A was stillborn in mid-October so we’ve already survived all the “first” holidays. Despite having those initial holidays and an entire year under my belt, I am still torn up over the holidays this year. American Thanksgiving was recently and the Christmas onslaught has already begun. Last year A would have been a mushy blob of an infant – approximately 1-month old for Thanksgiving and 2-months old for Christmas. Significant for it being his first and for it being our first as a family. Honestly, I don’t think the kid would have cared one way or other what we did or who was present.

But this year, this year he’d be 13- and 14-months old. We’d be lugging his highchair to various Thanksgiving feasts where he’d practice feeding himself and be intrigued by the texture of the mashed potatoes squishing through his fingers. I’d make E pose for a family photo with all three of us dressed nicely, knowing that A would soon be covered in squash and such. Instead of being the lump of a baby who gets passed around all night, he’d be fidgety and want to get down and play, walk and explore; trying to catch my aunt’s cat. The only baby at the gathering and delighting in all the attention.

Christmas I surely would have bought him more than he needed. Christmas morning I’d try to coax him into opening presents but his sweet 14-month-old mind doesn’t understand the concept and he’s more interested in the flashing lights on the tree, goofing with his Daddy and playing with the colorful discarded wrapping paper. Regardless, E would have the video camera rolling the entire time as we enjoyed a leisurely morning in our PJs. Then off to two separate family get togethers. We’d dress A in some ridiculous toddler-sized sweater vest and corduroys. Again A would be oblivious to the concept of Christmas but would revel in the big group of loving family members gathered and adoring him. My mother and aunts would try to wrestle him into sitting still for photos and try to cajole him into opening presents but he’s far more interested in playing with my cousin’s 3- and 5-year-old even if they dress him up like a princess.

The last quarter of the year has thus far been very intense. It begins with the changing of the seasons, then A’s birthday in October, next Halloween and just as I’m getting back on my feet, Thanksgiving is here and Christmas is around the corner. I feel like I’m waist-deep in the ocean getting knocked down by the powerful waves. Each time I resurface to gasp for air another wave is right on top of me pummeling me downward.

5 comments:

  1. I've often felt that grief felt like bobbing in the ocean. Just when you get a small gasp of air, you get pummeled again. Hang in there! I do think the moments of being about the breathe come more often with time. I have been trying to ignore Christmas mostly. I used to love it. I think we are going to get a tree this week even though I feel indifferent towards it. I am hoping getting out decorations will help me a little.

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    1. Ignore it. Indifferent. Whatever. You guys have little Bode to snuggle up with. Just cherishing time together as a family is Christmas enough.

      Missing Bear with you this holiday season.

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  2. I couldn't agree with you more. I think about Christmas and the holidays in the same way. Nathaniel would have been 17 months on Christmas day, rather than 17 months gone. The missing joy of that baby and toddler is so painful. I'm back in some deep grief as well. My heart hurts. It hurts to breathe. I'm so sad. Every cell is dripping.

    Be gentle with yourself, sweet mama. These days are short and nights long and dark. <3

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    1. Yes Suzanne, the nights are long and dark. Remembering Nathaniel with you and imagining what his rambunctious 17-month-old self would be getting into this holiday season.

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  3. I just can't seem to picture him... what he would have been like. I get so angry with myself for that.

    On every occasion - Christmas, Halloween etc, I seem to internally sigh: "Just another (fill in the blank) without him." He was robbed of so much. He never got anything. Well, a birthday and a funeral. How depressing is that. And whilst we have a little joy back in our lives with Hugo's arrival, poor Seamus got nothing. Not a single moment. Not a single breath.

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