A year ago I was almost 16 weeks pregnant with Logan. Anxiously anticipating the first time I’d feel him kick. I was also anxiously awaiting our next ultrasound, hoping Logan would cooperate so we could find out that he was in fact a Logan.
A year ago, I never imagined I could be so heartbroken. A year ago I never imagined a Christmas filled with tears and wishing for the one Christmas gift I know I could never receive. A year ago, I never imagined the only Christmas presents our son would receive would be grave site decorations. I never imagined a Christmas quite like this.
I have been dreading Christmas for months now, knowing it would mark a milestone for us. I have felt like the Grinch since December 1st, trying to stop Christmas from coming. Trying to protect my heart. I’ve been dreading it because I’ve been told it’s the hardest the first year.
I’ve been on autopilot these past few weeks trying to give Makenzee and Connor the Christmas season they deserve. I’m trying to keep the magic alive that comes with this time of year. I can’t ruin Christmas for a 5 and 3 year old. I’ve been going through the motions, for them. I’ve done alright so far. That was until tonight.
Tonight the sorrow hit me hard.
Christmas Eve starts the celebrations in our family. I never imagined this day would be so difficult. I imagined chasing after an almost 8 month old, stopping him from pulling ornaments off the tree. I’m so filled with sorrow, but it’s intertwined with joy. Sorrow for who we are missing this year and all those little experiences you take for granted during your baby’s first Christmas. Joy for experiencing the looks a delight as Makenzee and Connor open gifts.
The grief swept over me like a tidal wave tonight. I had to hide in the bathroom and let the hot tears roll down my cheeks. Lucky for me it was before most of the rest of the family showed up. I was able to wipe the make up that streaked down my face and recollect myself, with the help of Brandan, my husband. The recollection lasted long enough for me to sit back down by the tree before the tears fell again.
It took a few tight squeezes from my aunt Kim, Makenzee, and Connor to fully regain my composure and put on a happy face. It helps having my kids around to pull me out of the waves of grief. I can’t imagine the parents who have also had a stillborn, like us, but that baby being their only child. Leaving them empty handed this Christmas.
I can only hope tomorrow will be a better day for all of us. To all the angel babies gone too soon, Merry Christmas. And to all the loss parents like Brandan and I, please be gentle to yourselves this holiday season.