What Happened to Thanksgiving?

Well, this is a confusing post title, you're probably thinking. Wasn't one of my most recent posts entitled "Bah Humbug?" Yes, it was. The irony (or hypocrisy, perhaps) of this title/post is not lost on me. BUT, as a grieving mother (and the author of this blog), I have the right to change my mind every minute if I want to.

As previously discussed, I am not in the holiday spirit this year. However, I have a three-year-old child who just lost her brother. I cannot, under any circumstances, cancel the holidays. So I have to to fake it until I make it.

So, onto Thanksgiving. A few days after Halloween, Caroline and I went to Target to buy Thanksgiving decorations for Weston's urn. There were a lot of Halloween items on clearance and Christmas items, but nothing for Thanksgiving. So I asked an employee. He didn't know where Thanksgiving decorations were and had to call someone on his little walkie-talkie to find out. Then, I'm not kidding, he said, "We don't have anything for Thanksgiving. We skipped ahead to Christmas. You can try aisle 18 for clearance items." This was EARLY NOVEMBER.

Fortunately, we found a Thanksgiving-appropriate item on clearance that now adorns Weston's urn, and it looks wonderful. But I was left wondering, what happened to Thanksgiving?? Target has everything; if they don't have Thanksgiving-themed items, then no one has them.

In recent years, I have struggled with Christmas. Buying gifts for two large and ever-expanding families, working long hours to make sure I meet my annual billable-hour requirements, attending all the obligatory parties, cooking, usually getting sick somewhere in there, and, now, making sure my daughter has a magical holiday experience does not a happy, relaxed, and reflective woman make. My mother created wonderful holiday traditions when we were little, and I really want to continue some of them and create our own. But the general frenzy of the season leaves me no time or energy to even think about traditions. Thanksgiving has always been infinitely more relaxing and, therefore, an easier time to count my many blessings and really enjoy my family.

My Christmas angst always starts with Black Friday. Although we generally decorate our house for Christmas on Black Friday, we avoid shopping like the plague. Someone posted a quote on Facebook the other day that sums up the whole concept perfectly. It said, "Black Friday: because only in America, people trample others for cheap goods mere hours after being thankful for what they already have." Just let that sink in for a minute.

Last year, stores were opening at midnight on Black Friday. Now, I'm hearing that some stores will open at 8:00 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day to get a head start on Black Friday. WHAT IS WRONG with these stores? Are they so money-hungry that they will deprive their employees of perhaps the only day all YEAR they can be with their families? And what about the people who will actually go? At 8:00 p.m. on Thanksgiving, I am usually still in a tryptophan-induced coma, or making a scrumptious sandwich with leftover turkey while enjoying the company of my FAMILY. (And at midnight, I'm asleep!) I hope NOBODY shows up at Walmart, or wherever they are opening on Thanksgiving; let's make those stores feel sheepish. (Do stores have feelings? If you ask Mitt Romney, I guess they do.)

What does this have to do with Weston? Plenty. Look around your Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner table. Is everyone you love there? Are all of your children there? Are they all alive? If so, you are infinitely better off than my family. If not, I am so sorry, and I salute you for even showing up to the table. I'm still not sure if/how I am going to do it. I absolutely cannot fathom how an extra $40 off a flat-screen TV is more important than time with family.

All of those Christmas presents I have received over the years, all of the dollars I have spent on holiday decorations, food, traditions, parties, etc, I would give back in a heartbeat to have my son at the dinner table. All of the time I have wasted doing all of the above: what if I had that much time to spend with my son? What I wouldn't give for that...However, I do have a daughter and husband who deserve that time, and they deserve the best of ME. Admittedly, the best of me is not much these days, but that is a subject for another post.

So this is why I am so angry that Thanksgiving has disappeared. Our culture has decided that there is no more TIME to give thanks, to count our blessings. Our culture has successfully indoctrinated us into believing that our worth is dictated by the size of our pile of Christmas presents (given or received) and by the fullness of our calendars (fuller is definitely better). Well, my calendar stopped when I was put on bed rest at 12 weeks 5 days of pregnancy. EVERYTHING revolved around keeping Weston inside me and alive as long as possible. Nothing else mattered.

And although I'm not feeling very thankful this year (that tends to happen when your child is cruelly taken from you), I love my family more than ever. I love my friends more than ever. PEOPLE, not presents, are helping to carry me through this utterly dark time in my life. I want to honor and observe that fact.

What about those parents who will spend Thanksgiving in the NICU, not gathered around an abundant table, but huddled around an isolette as their babies fight for their lives? They're not thinking about Black Friday sales. What about the doctors and nurses who are spending the holiday away from their families, instead keeping watch over these most fragile babies?

I have been working on a little craft. Somewhere, I hear the laughter of those who know me best. Caroline helped me with some of it.

Weston's candle is burning on the bottom left. We (or I, depending on my emotional state) will deliver these Thanksgiving cards to the NICU tomorrow (it doesn't look like it in the picture, but there are enough for 65 babies: the full capacity of the NICU). Hopefully the staff will tape one to each baby's bed by Thanksgiving morning. I hope it makes the parents' day a little brighter. Hopefully all of the babies who receive these cards will live and thrive and look at these cards in their baby books some day. And Caroline is excited: she keeps talking about how the cards will make the babies stop crying.

(We never spent a major holiday in the NICU. But there were volunteers who made personalized decorations for Weston's isolette and hung them up before I even met Weston! The fact that someone would do that for our family was incredibly touching, and I still have all of them. So that's why I am doing this. And it took everything in me to not put Weston's name on the cards somewhere; I want his name littered across the earth. But I don't want these parents to have to think about dead babies. They just can't handle it right now. And I know in my heart that Weston is the reason for all of this. That is good enough for me.)

I realize that all of this probably sounds incredibly self-righteous. But (as my mom would say) I have lost my filters since Weston died. Before this year, I would never have thought to reach out to strangers on Thanksgiving. And this blog is also a personal journal of sorts, so I want to document what I do to get through the holidays and make them more meaningful. Instead of coming across as self-righteous, I hope it inspires and reminds everyone to JUST BREATHE (I received that advice a lot while Weston was alive, and it helped), enjoy your family, and be in the moment. Don't forget about Thanksgiving. And if you're thinking that your budget requires you to pound the pavement on Black Friday, just ask yourself if your kids, or spouse, or brother is even going to remember what you got them/him/her in even six months.

Give each other the gift of YOU. At the risk of sounding very old, I promise, that's all your mother wants from you.

Give each other the gift of your time. Some of us would sell every possession we own to have more of it.

Happy Thanksgiving.