Bah Humbug

Surprise! I am officially in holiday hell. When I think about Thanksgiving next week, my insides tense up, and I literally feel like I am having an anxiety attack. And that is just one physical symptom. Given all the detailed physical descriptions of what my body went through before, during, and after Weston's birth and death that I have already shared, I'll spare the Internet of any further information on that subject.

I have not been in a big, un-anonymous group since Weston's memorial service. Every get-together has been carefully orchestrated to minimize the number of people there, or I just avoid them altogether (mostly the latter). So I don't know how I am going to survive a group situation, on a major holiday, with empty arms that should be filled with a newborn baby boy. I guess I'll have to get back to you on that.

So, I just finished ordering Christmas cards. They will not arrive until the end of November, so it will still be well into December before I mail them out. Anyway, any other year, you could congratulate me on getting that done so early (and, let's face it, I would be giving myself a huge high-five also). I'm just trying to, I don't know, spread out the hell. Here is just a sampling of the card captions: Merriest of Christmases, Our Wonderful Year, Top 10 of 2012, Oh What a Wonderful Year, Joy to the World, Happy Happy Merry Merry Vomit Vomit Cry. You get the idea.

The website had sample photographs to go with the sample cards. It will not be surprising to hear that not a single sample card had a picture of a dead baby on it. Or even a non-smiling person. The outfits in the pictures even coordinated with the colors on the cards. All the children were clean, smiling, and looking at the camera. Oh yes, and they were all alive too.

Besides our newborn session after Caroline was born (and our wedding), we have never had professional family photographs taken. I was really looking forward to a newborn/family photo session with the FOUR of us this fall, the results of which I would have included in our Christmas card. Well, when the number of family members becomes smaller instead of larger, the last thing I want to do is get dressed up in coordinating red and green outfits and paste a smile on my face. Not that it would disguise anything: the pain in my eyes is palpable in every photograph now, even when I am smiling.

So there was no photo session this year. Instead, there is a dead baby on our card. Merry Christmas.

Before this year, I used to dread the holiday season because of the stress, because it almost completely negated the whole point of the season for me. Oh, to still be that naive! I would give ANYTHING to simply be sad that Santa and shopping overshadows the nativity and lots of quality family time. At a time when everyone is counting their blessings, indulging in, well, everything, and telling the world how awesome their year was, where does that leave those of us who experienced the shittiest year EVER? There is not a Christmas card for that.

And how do we address it? We sure are not going to pretend that Weston wasn't born and that he didn't die, just because the rest of the world is celebrating. The experience shaped our year, not to mention our entire lives. During the "most wonderful time of the year," are the recipients of our card going to dread seeing our return address in the mail when the card comes? Will our card be opened first or last? Displayed with the others on the fireplace mantel or shoved somewhere in the back? These are rhetorical questions: you don't have to answer them. I'll never know what you do with our card, so don't worry about it.

With that being said, our card is going to be really beautiful. And different from anything I have done before. We do not have a complete family picture. Our outfits are not coordinated. There is pain in our eyes. Weston is dead. But it is who we are. We are changed. And we will not pretend to be someone or something we are not, even (especially) at Christmas. We know that countless people have been touched by Weston's life and death, and we hope our card reflects that reality. With deep breaths, we will leave a part of our hearts in your mailboxes.

P.S. If you want our Christmas card, send me your address FAST! I'm placing orders...