The New Christmas Plan

This time of year has unexpectedly been very hard for me. I never anticipated how much my heart would throb in anticipation of the holiday season. I’m in a much different place this year than I expected to be. Last October, I found out I was pregnant for the second time. . I was scared, but excited. I knew my second pregnancy would be different from the first that ended in heartache.

I was so, so careful to watch everything I ate. I exercised in modest amounts, not really caring how much weight I gained. My only concern was growing a healthful baby. I was going to do everything right. And by December 11, I made it to the 12-week mark. I was in the “safe” zone!

Or so I thought.

Christmas of 2015 was exciting. I had finally announced my pregnancy to family and friends. I shared the news with my parents by giving them a cute little ornament. Family members and friends began buying newborn gear for my baby. I was letting myself believe that it was really going to happen.

Fast forward to this year. I am not holding a four-month-old bundle. My body failed me and my offspring yet again. I am so, so devastated. I can’t help but to imagine how much different my life would be right now if things had worked out the way they were supposed to.

If everything had gone as planned, I would have a two-year-old and a three-month-old. This would be an exciting Christmas for my oldest, who may be starting to comprehend the thrill and love that surrounds the holiday. My children would be able to play with their second cousins, many of whom are similar ages, at our huge Christmas Eve get-together. Family members would be eager to hold a growing William and would be amused to watch a boisterous two-year-old toddling through the house. Exhausted after a long night, Steve and I would retire home, tuck our little ones in bed and look forward to taking our children to church on Christmas morning.

Christmas used to be my very favorite time of year. It was a time to decorate. It meant parties with friends that I didn’t get to see often. It meant family gatherings. My favorite part of the holiday was imagining what kind of traditions I would start with my own family. I could imagine baking cookies with my children. Going out and cutting down a tree. Hanging ornaments and reminiscing with them as they grew older.

This year, to me, Christmas is not going to be a celebration. In fact, I am dreading it. It feels like I am driving 90 miles-per-hour toward a head-on collision that I can’t stop. All of these hopes, all of my dreams about Christmas this year are gone. I have to find a way to celebrate the holiday without two of the most important people in my life.

Until last night, the holiday was filling me with a growing sense of foreboding. I thought I was being selfish for being sad. I should be grateful that I am able to celebrate Christmas with a loving family, not obsessing over what could have been. So, I was planning to try to be happy, to drink a good deal of alcohol on Christmas Eve and to move on from the holiday as quickly as possible.

Then, yesterday, I went to a support group meeting. Holidays were mentioned. And I realized I was not the only one feeling this way. In fact, everyone in the room discussed how much they dreaded this time of year. One person mentioned that she had gone away for the past two Christmases and highly recommended it. I had a breakthrough.

I called Steve on my way home. I had already expressed my grievances about the upcoming holiday season, so he knew that it was on my mind.

“What do you think about renting a lake house for Christmas — leaving on Friday and coming back on Monday?” I asked. He agreed to the idea.

And suddenly, while I’m still not looking forward to the holiday, I am not dreading it like before. Steve and I are going to spend the weekend together. Quiet time. Time that we can spend reflecting on what could have been. Time that we can spend holding and comforting each other. Time that we can spend daring to hope for the future. But, most importantly, time to spend remembering our angels. No expectations, no pretending. Just us.

This is our new Christmas plan. What’s yours?

Kelly Isaacs
Latest posts by Kelly Isaacs (see all)

Written by 

Kelly is 32. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband, Stephen; her dog, Sadie; and two cats, Sam and Sully. She is a special education teacher in Massachusetts. Her first child was born at 9 weeks gestation in May of 2014. Her son, William Robert, was born on Jan. 5, 2016. The losses have forever changed Kelly’s lens of the world. When she is not working, Kelly can be found blogging, taking her dog on walks, exercising or relaxing with friends.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.