the first christmas

The first Christmas.

Christmas was on a Tuesday.

I started crying on Sunday.
Alone.  Well, sorta.  At church.

What was intended likely to be a way to say thank you to God for your "God Moment" in 2012, made me sob.

I was alone.  Aiden was sick at home.  Keith stayed home. 

Instead of the traditional candlelight service, in typical untypical fashion, we had our own take on the beautiful tradition.

If you had a God Moment this year, if there was a way that God showed up in your life this year, a way that Jesus revealed himself to you this year, come up, light a candle.

I wasn't going to go.  I wasn't going to walk down and light a candle alone.  But I couldn't stand there.  Alone.  It was like I was pushed.  I walked down.  And started crying from the moment I left my seat. 

A few hugs and shared tears later.  I think it really began to hit me. 

There wasn't a baby this Christmas.  Just an extra thirty pounds.
The outfit I bought a year ago to tell the Keith we were having another boy.  It's downstairs.  In the Everett boxes.  Never worn.
The Christmas picture this year is just the same as last year.  Two little boys.


Kippy went down with the crud on Christmas Eve.  Only wanted me.  And I got to rock him.  Like I should have been doing for the last 7 months.

It was cathartic.  And healing.  The parents and Keith just on the other side of the wall.  Laughing.  Talking.  Eating.  Me and Kipton, in the sitting room.  Me crying.  Kipton sleeping.  Drooling.  All over my shirt.  A day or two later, Kipton was throwing an all out fit.  Nothing could satisfy him.  I got him Everett Bear.  And he squeezed him and calmed down immediately.  And held him tight for next few hours.

Aiden has been talking about Everett a lot lately.  The other day he asked me to get him a tiny little baby to sleep with him.  Everett was his favorite tiny little baby.  He wanted him.

We were laying down the other night and he asked me to tell him about Everett and when he was born.  He said he missed him.  He wanted him to come back so he could sleep in his room with him.  He wanted Everett to snuggle him and eat chickens with him.  We got him Everett Bear to sleep with.  And for 4 days, if I bring him back to my room, he gets him and takes him back.  Tonight, he said he wanted to take him to the park with us tomorrow.  So Everett could have some fun.



I write this not to seek pity or even in hopes that anyone will read it, but to have for me.  To treasure these loving memories my boys have of their little brother.  I love my boys.  I love my family.