The best and the worst of times.

My baby’s first Christmas...

The.   Worst.   Christmas.  Ever.

 

My, four month old,  baby’s cry caused her, eighteen month old, baby to cry.

 

When her baby cried...

All the adults responded as if 911 was needed.

This chaos simply increased her daughter's upset. 

 

Everyone called her name.

Everyone offered her something.

Drink.  Cookie.  Soother. 

Everyone offered their arms.

Want a sit with me?

Want to go to the moon?

Want this? Want that?

 

Everyone talked at once.

Her daughter was surrounded.

I bet she wanted everyone to SHUT UP!

I know I did.

 

No one said it, but, we were all terrified.

No one wanted her to be upset. 

We didn’t know what might make her heart stop beating. 

Make her heart stop beating....

 

Her babe was cherished.

Her babe was treated like an irreplaceable china doll. 

Her babe was held constantly.

Her every expression...her every movement... her every complaint was discussed or debated and often argued about.   

All the family members were afraid.

They were afraid of her fragility and they were afraid of the unknown.

 

Stressful, doesn’t quite cover the emotion of that day. 

 

My babe was healthy.

My babe was loved, but, not needed by them.

My babe’s every complaint was met with...the stink eye from someone. 

They wanted me to keep my babe quiet. 

 

We caught each other’s eye over the sea of misguided love. 

 

She was so sorry. 

She knew I was hurt. 

I was hurt. 

I was so sorry....

 

Her babe was dying and mine would live. 

 

I cried all the way home.