Holiday-Phobia

It's fast and approaching. It's full of joy, family, love, lights, food, and laughter. It's busy and hectic, but always worth the stress. It's stocked full of dinners and parties and many family traditions. The music is uplifting and the waist lines are prepared to be stretched. What is it, you ask? Why, it's the most wonderful time of the year...

The few months out of the year that most look forward to (and some even prepare for) since the ending of the last holiday season. Thanksgiving and Christmas, and all of their glory, are in full view and coming in strong. Most people are welcoming their advance by Christmas shopping, preparing a menu for Thanksgiving dinner, making travel arrangements, and decorating.

Not this girl. I'm searching for all necessary and available protective gear in order to make it through the holidays without my baby boy. I'll need goggles to shield my eyes from the constant reminders that my Wyatt was suppose to be here with us this year: the posts and emails referring to things to be thankful for this year (granted, I'm aware that I have plenty to be thankful for, but my soul is still too wounded to pick out the roses and not be scratched by the thorns), the children unwrapping presents at family gatherings, the baby toys in the aisles screaming, "You should be buying me for your son!" as I hang my head and walk past, the sibling portraits with Santa that are likely to be displayed all over FaceBook and the mall and anywhere else I dare to venture, the references to "baby's first Christmas" on everything from ornaments to clothing to Christmas cards, the hurt and pain in my daughter's eyes as she visits brother's grave to give him her presents. They'd better be some damn good goggles.

  I'll be in search of earplugs to shelter my ears from the over played Christmas music in public as well as the overjoyed, annoying, yet well- meaning words of holiday well-wishers that will be hiding in every nook and cranny of the world (both real and cyber) until January 1st. I understand that people are ecstatic and feel the need to spread the joy throughout the holidays, however, I feel a tinge of guilt for not being as eager about the impending celebrations as in previous years when I hear and see other people's statements about this "most wonderful time of the year." I wonder how many are entering this delightful season with a broken heart and wounded character such as myself?

Lastly, I'll be looking for some really sticky, really good, really powerful tape. I'll need it for my heart. I want to wrap it up, and cover all the visible cracks and holes, so that it doesn't simply fall into a million pieces when I wake up on Christmas morning and realize that my baby boy should be 8 months old that very day. Instead of picking him up out of his crib and watching him and Sissy open presents from Santa with smiles and laughter abounding, I'll plant a smile on my face and continue on everyday, like I had for the past 8 months, for my precious baby girl and my savior of a husband. I'll even muster up the courage to visit Wyatt's grave and sing to him...maybe I'll even sing a Christmas song or two.

Many of you reading this want to say, "But, he will be celebrating our Lord's birthday in Heaven, with the one and only!" and I have thought about that and have tried to let it calm my anxiety, but here is what I have to say, "Would that statement make you feel okay if it were your son or daughter missing from your earthly life this holiday season?" Rest assured, these are not the angry words of falling christian, but the true feelings of a grieving mother.

This year there will be four stockings hanging from our mantle. One that will never be filled with goodies and never be touched by the soft and eager hands of it's person, but it will be there, bold and beautiful against the polished wood grain of the mantle, reminding us that our family will one day be whole again.