Christmas 2012 is...

Over! Oh yes it is. This was going to be a Christmas 2012 post, then that somehow got away. Then it was going to be a New Year post, but that date slipped by as well. And the next one. Then two more whole weeks, but such is the way of life these days with a three year old and one year old.

Christmas and in fact all of 2012 was full. Satisfying. I lost a lot (mostly weight) but gained so much more (friendship, fairy tales, strength, resilience, confidence, healing). 

Christmas 2012 was truly and honestly wanting to write this post, dozens of time over, but choosing life instead of the laptop, jogging over sitting, living instead wallowing. Christmas 2012 was looking forward to the day with two excited munchkins rather than dreading the day because of the ache for the one who wasn't there. She was missed, and is missed, but there was peace and calmness this year that hasn't been there in the Christmases we've previously had without her.

Christmas 2012 was taking the kids to cut down a Christmas tree at the same place I went to cut down a Christmas tree nearly every year of my childhood, then enjoying the gorgeous smell of pine for the best part of the month. It was wrapping presents until late on Christmas eve and feeling giddy knowing how much they were going to light up the face of the little boy unwrapping them the next morning. It was chewing on carrot sticks left out for reindeers, eating shortbread left for an imaginary fat man in a red suit, and going to bed and feeling a little bit lost in the magic of it all, not uncommon to when I was a child myself.

However Christmas 2012 meant we had to make our yearly cemetery pilgrimage on Christmas eve rather than Christmas Day itself, as other priorities and practicalities dictated it so. Once upon a time, I might have beat myself up about this, but this was ok, really it was. Hope, though dead, slots herself in to our lives and wraps herself around everything we do, and all that we are, but on this occasion, this was how it had to be. There were the presents to open Christmas Day by the crazy excited three year old and his slightly less interested one year old sister, there was pork crackle and the perfect roast potatoes to get ready, not to mention an hour car trip to get to the equally excited cousins with a brand new Christmas trampoline. And after all that, there were a few more days of work for the tired man of the house, and much packing and de-Christmassing for me to do in order to get ready for a two week camping holiday away with the family.

Christmas and New Year 2012/13 was leaving behind most of our creature comforts of home, and setting up a borrowed camper trailer by a lovely river in the country our family has visited for years, to camp. A truly character building holiday I must say. We had a powered site and toilets and showers and all those other lovely mod cons, but we sweltered away in 40 degree heat, day after day after god damn day, and somehow we all had a ball (mostly, I believe after less than a week at home, I am already glossing over the truly maddening parts of the trip - children screaming and not sleeping and roasting hot canvas tents and all of that). 

I really do believe these sorts of things are wonderful for children. As much as I love to visit different parts of the world, there is a certain charm and something so comforting and familiar about visiting the same place each year, at the same time of year - and this is a truly beautiful place. All the same families go and the friendships and relationships build, grow and strengthen every year. I know the children are going to love it more and more every year, and this year especially, Angus, really seemed to come of age. More of a little boy, less of a baby. Though always my baby, of course. 

These are the sort of holidays that memories are made of. True, strong and unforgettable family memories. Of course, these were the sort of memories we thought Hope would be able to create as well, but that's not to be. God damn it. When you're pregnant and daydreaming about your baby and how your life will be and what you'll do with said baby when he or she arrives, you imagine taking them camping to your favourite holiday spots. You imagine opening presents with them on Christmas morning, you imagine them tasting a bit of pork crackling for the first time then slipping them your last bit, because you love them and you will do anything for them, even giving up the tastiest morsels on your Christmas dinner plate. You imagine doing with them all the fun and joyous things life has to offer, because you certainly don't imagine they are going to die. Before the are born. This is what I did, and this is one of the cruelest legacies of stillbirth. I imagined it all. I got nothing.

Christmas 2012 was wonderful. I didn't seize up in the lead up. I didn't let the grief engulf me. I enjoyed it for what it was, took delight from the joy my living children got out of it and I truly can't wait to do it all again this year. So far, 2013 has been good to me too and I know while I get my boy ready for three year old kindergarten in a couple of weeks, I'll have wistful and teary moments thinking about the girl who should be starting four year old kinder but I'll soldier on. I will because I have no other choice and because for four and a half years, though not always graceful, that's all I've been doing. Soldiering on. Even through Christmas and at least this time around, I really can say I enjoyed it to boot.

Merry belated Christmas and a happy belated new year as well.

(A selection of my terrible photos that correspond with the times I've just written about. I never claimed to be a photographer, only a writer. Of sorts. If I have a New Year's resolution, it is to learn how to properly use the very expensive camera I have! Or I can always just stick to the iPhone and the array of lovely filters!)