Christmas girls

Today was a good day.  Not a great one, but a good one.

I was just driving home alone, a suburban full of groceries, and a heavy heart.

I had everything from milk for the baby to special holiday cookies that I know John secretly loves.  The seats were filled, the back packed, Christmas music playing on the radio, and all I could think about was, “Why am I so sad?”

It was as though something had happened in the day and a switch had changed in my head.  It was similar to when you are sitting in the theatre and the play is happy and upbeat, and then all of the sudden, the lights dim or the music changes and you actually feel different.  As you sit in the dark theatre, you don’t know what has happened, you can only feel that something has.

I feel as though my heart is actually heavy.  I know that my actual heart weighs only 9 ounces.  Not heavy by any standard.  But today, it felt as though someone had their hand, pressing down, on my sad heart.

I reviewed the day.  Kids up, breakfast, lunches, prayer, bus, all over again for the elementary crew, then email/blog catch-up, little girl reading, sister-in-law phone call, dentist, kindergarten…  Nothing.

Then I remembered.  I took a quick drive up to Sky Ridge hospital to celebrate the birth of a baby girl with my friend.  This friend is wonderful.  She is the most positive person I have ever met.  She took shots in her stomach everyday to bring this little one here safely.  I love being near her.  And today I held her little Addison.  It wasn’t  the holding that jogged my foggy memory, it was her phone call yesterday.

“Hey Laura, I had the baby.  Everything went great!  I went into labor last night and headed in.  They waited for the Lovanox to reverse and then did my c-section at noon.  She is beautiful.”

The conversation went on, back and forth about details.  Her blood pressure, were there any minor complications, you know, the details I love.  Then she said it.  That thing that must have just been sitting there building pressure on that vital organ for 24 hours…”I just wanted to call you right away, because I know you were expecting your baby girl at Christmas.  I thought of you this whole pregnancy, every time I thought of us having our little girl at Christmas.”

There it was.

All of the sudden, at that light just outside Costco, I knew what the heaviness was.  My memory of the dreams I had of having that little girl at Christmastime.

The thought of sitting on the couch, holding her, looking at her newborn face, and watching as the older children tore open gifts.  The thought of celebrating her birth in conjunction with our holiday Christmas card photo.  I had designed the dual purpose card in my mind, knew exactly what tiny Christmas dress she would wear and even the name that would join ours on the card.

But it wasn’t meant to be.  She wasn’t meant to share that Christmas with us, at least not in person.  But she does join us at this time of year. 

She joins us as we put a small wreath or tree on the tiny place where her body lies.  Her tiny 9 ounce body.  Maybe that is why my heart is so heavy tonight.  Because her 9 ounces sits right on top of my 9 ounce heart and it is twice as heavy.

I am grateful for the opportunity to carry her, deliver her, hold her, bless her, and remember her.

So here’s to your Christmas girl…and mine.