Christmas will be different this year.
I tried to get my Christmas shopping done quickly because I felt so panicked everytime I had to go out. Seems everywhere I went I was ambushed. Racks of little Christmas dresses and matching shoes seemed to mock me and stockings embroidered “Baby’s First Christmas” left me feeling punched in the gut.
There is just such an emptiness, and it feels like in all the cheerful anticipation and bustling, my precious little girl has been forgotten.
People seem to put a time limit on grief, and it seems the older your child is, the more time that is allotted. I don’t understand this, because there is tremendous grief whether you lost a child that was 10, or a baby that left straight from your womb. We don’t have Christmas memories to grieve, but we grieve the Christmas memories we will never create.
Christmas has come although we hoped to wake finding it had already passed this year. We are thankful to be surrounded by family and are holding our littles ones tighter than ever and breathing prayers of thanks to have them here to share in the joy and the pain.
Every time I hear “oh hear the angel voices”… my eyes fill with tears because I know my little girl’s voice has joined that angelic choir this year. I am clinging to the promise that one day I will join her and get to hear that beautiful music for myself…
Until then… I am wrestling this pain and determined that I will choose hope in whatever pit I may find myself standing.
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
-Horatio G. Spafford