I am sitting in my family room in front of the Christmas tree that I put up and decorated as late as possible. After spending years trying to make the “perfect” Christmas for my growing family, I now wonder if I should even put a tree up. I am very ambivalent about Christmas trees. I vacillate between why is there a tree in my living room, contemplating each individual ornament, and being overcome by emotion as I remember all of the stages of my life that each ornament represents.
I always said that I hate Christmas, and unfortunately, as a mom balancing the full-time job of planning and coordinating Christmas events on top of a full time job in healthcare, I found myself stressed out and complaining about the holiday. I am sorry if this took any of the joy out of the holiday for my family, and I hope they look back and see a mom that was trying her best to make the season bright as it spun out of control. There were choral concerts, piano recitals, school parties, pot lucks, gift exchanges, and family dinners which required trying to find time to spend with both sides of the family without splitting myself in two. I will admit that most of the pressure I felt, I put on myself. I blame Martha Stewart for my nineties perfectionism. It took me years to realize she had a staff and it was just me doing the planning and delegating to my staff of one. My husband, who was extremely helpful, kept reminding me that the only person pressuring me to provide the perfect holiday experience was me. The result was that by Christmas, I was exhausted and over-stimulated.
Those days are now past, and I wish I spent more time living in the moment then stressing over all of the cookies being baked and decorated by Christmas Eve. That hectic time meant we were decorating cookies with young children before rushing out the door to one family Christmas, colored icing smeared across my house, the children, and their holiday clothes. Who cares if there was only one kind of Christmas cookie, or they came from the bakery instead of being homemade, or even that they were done by Christmas for that matter? No one but me cared whether the Christmas cards went out the week after Thanksgiving or the week between Christmas and New Year’s.
Now I no longer find myself wrapping Christmas gifts at midnight on Christmas Eve or having my husband assemble a toy or a bike while using very un-Christmas like language during the process. There are no grandparents to visit and manage, and I miss those people in my life more than anything, especially around the holidays. As stressful as it was, I am glad we made the effort to see everyone. My children will always have the memory of going to my parent’s house on Christmas Eve, where Santa came early and left them their gifts, complete with ash smears from the fireplace. Their memories are kept alive on my Christmas tree—some of the ornaments that used to grace their tree now grace mine.
The most precious ornaments to me are the ones that my children crafted in pre-school and elementary school. They are kept separately in a special box, and they are the first ornaments placed on the tree every year. I even have the construction paper decorations they made, and a few years ago, when the wear and tear started to show, I had them laminated. The next ornaments are the ghosts of Christmas past, the ornaments from the grandparents and parents that are no longer with us. Last come the ornaments that chronicle our life as a family.
Since I am estranged from my son, a part of my life and history is missing. I try to focus on the present and all of the events and people that I still hold close. I honor those that choose to be part of my life, and this brings me joy. I set aside my son’s Baby’s First Christmas ornament and all of the ornaments that he made as a child as well as the ornaments that represent his family. There is an emptiness on the tree. The space where he belongs. I will never get rid of them, but I packed them away so they didn’t weigh down my heart. This is a gift to myself as I waver between acceptance and hope. I hope someday there is a resolution. Christmas is the time of hope and miracles, after all.
This year, the first ornament that I placed on the tree was a picture of my twin grandsons, who have brought joy and healing to my life. I have accepted that both joy and sorrow can exist at the same time. One can be extraordinarily blessed (and I am) and still grieve at the same time. This situation, as terrible as it is, has taught me resilience. It has taught me kindness. It has taught me that even though it is Christmas time, sometimes the forced festivity can be overwhelming. In fact, as the revelry increases, the things in life that aren’t as we want them to be contrast sharply with all of the problems, disappointments, losses, and challenges that everyone faces as part of life.
I look at the news every day and I am saddened by so many things. The day we put up the Christmas tree was the thirteenth anniversary of the Sandy Hook massacre and coincided with yet another shooting of innocents at Brown University. I look at the Christmas tree in my warm house, the lights glowing in the darkening room, the fire in the hearth, and my heart goes out to everyone who will not be present for their families this holiday season, no matter what holiday they celebrate, due to any type of loss. I hope that no matter the circumstances anyone is facing right now that they are still able to experience happiness and peace in the year to come.
And I wish everyone who has read this all of the blessings of the season and…
Merry Christmas!
The Best Third 