Christmas in September - December 30, 2010

A week before Christmas I sat staring out the window. At nothing and at everything all at the same time. The snow was melting to slush before my eyes, turning as gray as the clouds that claimed the sky. Christmas tree lights twinkled in the reflection but there was no holiday spirit in this home today. My eyes stung because I wouldn't let the tears shed. I mindlessly fidgeted with the little white, plastic stick in my hands waiting for my husband to come through the front door. My heart broke as the seconds ticked on; I just couldn't do this anymore.
The car pulled into the drive, soon followed by wet sounding foot prints as my husband emerged through the door. He took one look at me and his smile vanished. Making my heart sink deeper into my chest cavity. He set his brief case down, not caring that he was tracking half the snow slushy from our driveway through the living room.  He was at my side before the single tear drop that had escaped started to stream down my face. Wrapping me up in his safe embrace, I let myself go. He held me close, rubbing my back, and let me cry it all out for a good five minutes before asking me what was the matter.
"Another one liner", I half-whispered in response, "I can't do this anymore, I just can't."
Tears started to form in his eyes, tears he was better at keeping at bay. He gave me a small smile and took the negative pregnancy test from my hands.
"Its okay baby, I understand", he got up to throw that stupid plastic thing in the trash. It felt like our dreams of having a family of our own went with it. Too bad the intangible weight from eight years of fertility treatments didn't go as well.

Christmas day, it was just the two of us like it always has been for the last ten years. No rush to wake the dead. Around noon we peeled ourselves out of the bed and headed to the coffee pot. Our expensive gourmet coffee smelled putrid as it wafted through the house. It made me sick to my stomach as the first drop slipped down my throat. I had to run to the toilet. Christmas day and I had the flu, just wonderful, I silently pouted as my husband handed me presents from under the tree.
The first one I opened was from my Nana that was carefully wrapped with little cherubs wearing Santa hats. The little homemade note was barely legible because her hands shake so badly now. The note was taped to the top of the box underneath a little shiny bow and it read, "I just knew this was the year! Love, Nana.”
We opened the box together. A pair of handmade, beautifully stitched blue leather baby booties lay under all the tissue paper that lined the little shoe box. A intricate snowman design that demanded attention adorned the top of the booties. I wanted to cry as soon as I saw them. My husband put them out of sight as fast as he could but I was no longer in the holiday spirit. I was in a mood all day long and between moping around and throwing up it was a Christmas I couldn’t wait to forget.

That very next year on Labor Day; I was in labor. 16 painful hours was all it took to hear our son take his first breath. His newborn wail echoing throughout the hospital room was like hearing an angel sing. We brought our little bundle of joy home three days later. The snowman booties fit him perfectly. We had the perfect Christmas in September. 

-Christina Paul