I saw my first official "holiday" commercial with snow and jingle bells and overly attractive models wearing cute cableknit sweaters and holding a puppy with a big red bow around its neck. I'm not kidding. It would have made me want to gag even without the underlying melancholy surrounding the prospect of facing the first holiday should-have-beens. But now I am alternating between wanting to avoid the holidays altogether and wanting to overindulge my living son to make up for all the disappointment of this past year. Steve asked Alex if he liked his pumpkin, but he was awful quiet about it. We'll just have to assume he's satisfied, I guess. It seems he's easy to please.
I worry that I'm going to have some sort of serious meltdown. I've already issued the proclamation that there will be no "Christmas shopping." A lot of people will be getting gift cards. There will be no "Secret Santa" at work. And I will not be wearing any festive holiday apparel (though I will make an exception and wear my Old Navy $5 Halloween t-shirt just because I love the rare deal on plus-size novelty clothes).
Sam's been asking to put up the Christmas tree. Normally we would put it up shortly after Thanksgiving and let it stay up until after New Year. I'm thinking that maybe this year we'll put it up a week or so before Christmas and take it down the week after Christmas. I just can't look at all those shiny cheerful ornaments for too long or I might pick the whole thing up and chuck it out a window. And the nativity...forget about it...it ain't coming out of the box.
Do I sound like a broken record? I don't care. We had a baby. A full-grown, ready to come home and live with us, baby. The fact that the infection that killed him is "rare" doesn't make him any less real...and it doesn't make us miss him any less. Am I supposed to find comfort in the fact that our situation is a statistical anomaly? Statistics don't mean a thing when you bury your perfect little boy and spend your Christmas visiting his grave instead of watching him open his cute little presents in his cute little Christmas pajamas. So much for the snow and jingle bells and overly attractive models wearing cute cableknit sweaters and holding a puppy with a big red bow around its neck.
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2 comments:
Catherine,
**hugs** I don't have any words to help you through all of this, but know that I am sorry you, Steve, and Sam are going through this and that I think of you all often. I can only imagine that the whole first year of 'misses' where Alex should be HERE with you are some of the hardest things to get through.
You can be a broken record for now - every day brings something new that reminds you that Alex isn't here, where he should be. The only part I find hard is that I just don't know how to help. I mean really, is there any way to help you guys get through this? I know you'll never get over it, I mean just to not be so sad :(
You are doing the right thing by not having Sam miss out on things :) He is the one who is going to get you through this. His smiling little face, and sweet thoughts!
Big hugs.
You can most definitely sound like a broken record. I can remember vividly how painful the first Christmas after Lucas's death was. He was born on Christmas day his absence was almost overwhelming. We had other kids to think about (his older brother and sister) and a new baby (his younger cousin) so we endured.
It was very hard. Everyone was thinking about how happy we were the previous year.
I'm so sorry that you are going through this.
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