Alright December, we are going to have a little chat, you and I. We have a few things to sort out before you come waltzing into town tomorrow with all of your holiday cheer. I want so badly to loathe you right now, but since you do have a few redeeming qualities about you, I can’t bring myself to do it just yet.
Instead, I think that we need to come to an understanding. Your job is to make the next 31 days go by as smoothly as you can while I gingerly step my way through each day. Obviously, the first half of you is going to be hell as I count down the hours until the day we should have met our daughter. I do, however, have hope that I can control myself and regain my maturity enough to enjoy the second half of you. I love your Holidays and I would hate to see them ruined because you decided not to cooperate in our little arrangement.
Now, I’ve done everything I can do to make my due date as positive as possible, but I’m going to need you to simply pass by uneventfully. Did you hear me? Uneventfully. That means no flat tires, no issues with the house, no illness, not even a hang nail. If it’s not too much to ask, you could even throw in few positive and happy things, but I won’t hold my breath.
You are going to be very hard for me, December. I spent the majority of this year picturing how you would go. I would have spent the first part of you floating by until my due date, not minding the cold weather because I would be as big as a house. At some point my husband and I would have met our baby and found out the best surprise in the world – that we would have a daughter. I would have spent the Holidays warm and cozy, surrounded by family, snuggling my brand new daughter and showing her all of the things about what makes your Holidays the best out of all of the others.
Instead, I have a place in my heart that holds all of my memories of the short amount of time I was able to spend with Deidre after she was born in August. I have fuzzy memories of the way my baby girl looked and empty arms that long to snuggle her in front of our Christmas tree. Instead of being able to surround myself with family to help continue to heal my broken heart, I have to spend Christmas at work where undoubtedly I will spend my shift dreaming, angry and hurting about what could have been.
Every day is going to be a struggle for me and I hope that you will jump on board and help me survive you. You’ve never failed me before and I don’t think that you have it in you to do it now. So, what do you say, December? Let’s make this as easy on each other as we can, ok?