Schmeh: the holidays

I'm not sure when it happened, but over the years, I've come to feel nothing about the holidays. I don't care much for Thanksgiving. That American day of food and family was destroyed after my daughter's death. It's just not a time to blather about "what I'm thankful for."

And now, with the political climate, I see more clearly the oppression of the descendants of indigenous people that we (read American white settlers) destroyed so we could have what we have. I could likely make the four day weekend about family and friends and love, and sometimes I attempt it. Mostly, though, I'm apathetic. And most recently, it became the holiday I last saw my daughter's grandmother alive. So, yeah, Thanksgiving sucks.

And after the relief of going back to work, I continue to work pretty hard at just surviving the latest crazy. Like "Merry Christmas." A phrase that was nice for so so so many years. There was a time that if you wanted you could include the New Year with a "Happy Holidays."  I can't say either one of these phrases in public anymore without a store clerk or other stranger judging my political leanings despite the greeting I choose. I still say these greetings to people I know with sincerity, but out there in public, I say, "Thanks. and have a nice day."

Because that's how I really feel. That's the best I can hope for them and me. A nice day. A nice day that's not a holiday. Sometimes, I snark, "Enjoy whatever holiday you may or may not celebrate."

Perhaps, I should find a better phrase? Nope. Have a nice day is just fine.

I need to breathe in some joy. I'm empty.

Joy Possible

Caitlin was remembered by her Grammy and Godmother this season. It was so nice. Many people avoid saying anything about the children who have died; it's too sad perhaps for the season. As a bereaved mother, acknowledging the sadness in the beginning makes way for the joy that's possible during this season. Our family remembered Caitlin and we hung her ornaments on the tree. My camera didn't capture her name and the tiny angel that hangs from pink hearts, but my heart did.
Thanks family. Love you.

Wishing all Peace This Season

Before the Snow Covers

After leaving the only holiday party she had the courage to attend, and enduring the traditional tunes with "I'll be home for Christmas" and "I'll have a blue Christmas without you," she realizes that the impending Noreaster threatens more than a safe ride home. It threatens to cover her daughter's stone and may prevent the opportunity to visit before celebrations and travels commence. So before the snow covers it, she drives to the cemetery, well aware that this behavior falls squarely under the heading of "crazy bereaved mother." And owning this label, she drives into the dark cemetery, kneels and whispers, "I'm sorry sweet baby girl. I miss you. I love you." She kisses her daughter's stone and allows a feeling of relief to sweep over her, knowing she made it before the snow covers and hides where her daughter is buried with its white blanket.

"My daughter is buried here," she explains to the police officer who prevents her incident-free exit. "I know I'm not supposed to be here after dark, and I'm on my way out, but I just had to visit before the snow covers." "OK, then, have a good night," he replies and drives on. Her tears fell in equaled furry to the snow.

Joyeux Noel du Paradis

Christmas Eve Visit to the Cemetery

When I arrived babyland was covered in snow. I placed Caitlin's sapphire angel on the snow. I thought about leaving the blanket of snow as it was, peaceful, but I began to move the snow slowly away to find Caitlin's stone. I did find it after some time. I placed the angel from Caitlin's grammy on her stone and told her about how much Grammy missed her. Then I kept digging to find her angel, her star, and her toy. I gave the toy a squeeze and it made the sounds that Caitlin loved to listen to in the hospital. I was so grateful that the toy was still working, after a year the toy still works. Her butterfly and flowers seemed to be gone. I sat at her grave and talked to her and told her about the angel I made for her at the house. Then decided that she needed a snowman, or rather a snowman-angel. Admittedly, it looks like a man with arms, but it's supposed to be a snowman-angel and those are wings not arms. I sat for a while longer in the snow. I could not sing this visit, and on the way home wrote a poem in my head that I've already posted.

Time it Was

Snowflakes that Didn't Turn Out

I've haven't exactly ignored the holidays this season. I wrote the family Christmas letter and purchased two gifts for the names that were drawn. A tiny 2-foot tree is up with Caitlin's Angel (the one they placed on the remembrance tree at the NICU on the day she died), and I put lights up on the steps of our home. We attended the business Holiday party, but I wouldn't say I've engaged in the holiday spirit much. It all felt quite pedestrian. Then, I receive a gift that changed everything.

A friend stops by my work to talk with me and says, "I don't want to upset you but . . . . I want to give you something. My daughter was making paper snowflakes and she got pretty upset, because after cutting them out and coloring them she tells me, 'they didn't turn out right.' " "They don't look like snowflakes," the child says to her mom (my friend), "they look like butterflies." Her mother looks at the butterfly snowflakes and says, "Well, would it be OK if I give them to my friend because, I think that she would really like them. They might help her think about her daughter."

And so, that's how it happened, I now have two beautiful child cut and colored butterflies in my office, a gift that feels like a Christmas gift from Caitlin with the help of another child. I can't stop smiling. Caitlin found a way to give her mommy a Christmas gift from heaven. Thanks to Z, my friend's daughter, I'm smiling at Christmas.