Monday, December 20, 2010
December 2009, the Monday before Christmas. J and I went to his work after hours to see if we could figure out the sex of our baby before the scan in early January. The room was warm and dark. J's machine was designed to look at hearts, but he found the baby no problem. He asked and asked and asked if I wanted to see the baby. Other wives came in all the time to look at their babies. I was so scared something would be wrong with ours. I didn't want him to place the probe on my belly and see a baby without a heart beat. I was waiting for her to die most of my pregnancy, but in that room in the week leading up to Christmas I saw that she was alive and I thought I would be able to shake my fears.
J left the curtains open because it was late and no one was around. To my left was a window looking down on a lobby and a huge Christmas tree covered with lights. I smiled, overjoyed with the idea that she would make us a family. (We weren't sure it was a girl, but J thought so. At first he thought it was a boy then realized he was looking at the umbilical cord).
I was so excited for Christmas last year. I decorated the house, hosted a Christmas cookie party, wrapped presents with joy, spent many happy hours at the bookstore picking out titles for people I've never met (it's my only talent) and smiling, smiling, smiling. This year the season has been filled with sorrow and tears and wishes for it all to be over.
Then last night happened. I went to a Christmas program at our church to see my friend dance and the meaning of Christmas smacked me in the face so hard I'm still reeling. She danced near the end of the program and as I stood at the back of the church watching (we were sitting close to the back and I couldn't see very well so - like the proud mama I'm not - I moved to a place where I could see everything) I remembered that this is a time to be grateful, to celebrate, to rejoice that Christ was born. And I know everyone who reads here doesn't believe as I do, but for me there is joy in the birth of Christ because without the hope of heaven, the beauty of salvation, and the promises of God I would hurt so much more.
Though I wish her little heart was beating next to mine there is peace in my soul when I think of her celebrating her first Christmas with the angels.