We spent the week leading up to Christmas and through Christmas in our hometown in Illinois. The trip began with a stressful, long 8 hour drive in the middle of the night (to allow the little one to sleep through the car ride, which he did splendidly). The weekend began with a friend's wedding where Isaac was an absolute doll and adored being oohed and ahhed over. The next day was our first Christmas party with my mom's side of the family. The traveling, plus the previous evening's festivities, plus being in a new place, with 50 some more new faces was a bit much for the little guy. I enjoyed seeing many relatives I hadn't seen since Hailey's memorial service and before that hadn't seen in a couple of years. But in, all honesty, I felt stressed over and sympathizing with Isaac's fussiness. By the fourth day or so, which sure seemed like a long time, Isaac worked himself back into a routine, and we all enjoyed a few low key days. As Christmas approached we attended more parties and made more visits with family and friends. We celebrated 'our' Christmas with Isaac on Christmas Eve morning with my husband's immediate family who we were staying with. Christmas Eve night we enjoyed more gift opening and spent it with my father-in-law's extended family. Christmas day we celebrated and opened gifts with my immediate family. Finally, the day after Christmas, our last family party, with my mother-in-law's side of the family, after which or maybe during (?) we left to drive through the night back home to Tennessee.
That's just skimming the surface of our trip and Christmas though, as alluded to in my previous post.
Going back home to Hailey was more difficult than I'd imagined. My grief resurfaced and surged about within my heart. Living so far away from where she is buried allows me to distance myself from and bury a lot of my grief I realized. I wasn't able to visit her grave for a few days after we arrived. But from the minute we arrived home, I knew she was right down the road from me. The reality of her burial and what we went through two years ago and continue to go through hit hard. My baby's there. That baby who seems like something I only imagined once is real again. She's there. Down the road. In the ground. In her tiny coffin. In her pink polka dot jammies. She's there. I went and visited her, and I couldn't help but literally imagine her below me right there in the cold, hard ground. Grief. Sorrow. There are no words. I cried. I caught myself trying to forbid myself from crying, but I didn't... I released the tears that needed to come. I remember the spring after we first buried her... I thought of it raining on her and I had a strange desire to go stand over her with an umbrella... The similar thoughts and feelings came when I went to see her. It was cold, not the typical cold of a Chicago winter, but cold enough, and all I could think of was how cold her body must be. And that strange desire to find a way to warm her came over me. But knowing she's not there, and what's left of her can't be warmed or cared for... well it's frustrating and painful. We visited her the first time, just my husband and I. Then we visited her a second time to set a new Christmas wreath next to her grave. I bought a special pink butterfly to put on the wreath for her. I don't know why decorating her grave or making it look 'pretty' or 'cared for' matters to me... but it does and it's important. I can't explain it. The final time we went to visit her we brought Isaac with to see his sister. It was cold that day with an extra harsh wind, so Isaac didn't stay out long. My husband took him back to the car, and I read her my Christmas gift to her and Isaac. A beautiful book by Nancy Tilman, Wherever You Are, My Love Will Find You. I think I cried every time we visited her. And I cried after we'd come back home. I cried being in that same bedroom we were in almost two years ago where we prepared for her funeral, where I cried all day and night and couldn't sleep and held on to her giraffe. That room is loaded with memories and grief. But this year it had our bundle of joy in it too... which adds a whole new dimension of emotions to it. So of course, needless to say, this Christmas without Hailey was not any easier, and I don't expect it will ever be. But being back home by her was somewhat of a shocking experience of grief, like I was going back to a life I had once forgotten... And the grief was hard to deal with as it was tucked in between all the busyness of people and places and such as well as trying to find where it belonged in the midst of the joy of everything else.
So yes there was joy that was had. There were wonderful memories made. It was great being surrounded with so many people we love and who love us. I had a wonderful time helping Isaac open his presents, loved watching him inquisitively reach for the wrapping paper and pull it, tearing his presents open. Of course he thought the occasion was about eating wrapping paper not about the gifts the paper had wrapped... In my mind I had a notion of what I wanted his first Christmas to be like and how I wanted to commemorate the event... So much so that I nearly ruined Christmas... You see, I had wanted it well documented. Pictures and video. I'd set up the video camera in just the right spot, remembered to press record... Only after opening presents did my husband discover practically none of it recorded because I hadn't cleared out enough space in the memory or the card. I missed recording Isaac's first Christmas. In my mind I catastrophized (making up a word) the event. I felt of course that meant I ruined Isaac's first Christmas, but the truth is, which I realized after I had a mini meltdown freakout, was that he did not care or notice and it did not matter to him. I realized a terrible flaw I have... I'm so focused on getting the right picture or recording every important memory on film or video, etc. that I miss half of what I'm wanting to document. I forget to live in the moment, forget to enjoy to moment. Forget what life's about....
All in all... well there really is no nice, simple, one sentence wrap up to our Christmas... maybe if I wanted to be close and use a cliche... I felt like it was a beautiful mess at times.
Christmas this year was emotional. It was stressful. It was joyful. It was sorrowful. It was everything in between. It was full of wonderful moments that are now wonderful memories. It was full of painful memories as well. Most importantly though, it was full of love.
