It’s here, again: the red, green, silver and gold. The twinkling lights and distant sound of bells. It’s here.
The holidays have once again overtaken the earth.
And this year, it all seems so obscurely out of reach. Just beyond the horizon. That thing called “happiness”.
The children had their Christmas concert at church yesterday, and it hit me out of nowhere. One of those gut wrenching moments of grief you don’t see coming. As they began to quietly sing “Silent night, Holy Night, aaaaaaall is bright, aaaaaall is bright” (and the jolly chuckle from the audience as the words were obviously too adorably mixed up to be mad at) my gaze falls on the little redhead in the front. The one I’ve known his whole life. The precious, “shadow child” of Edwin: Born just weeks within Edwin’s due date. And I imagine my boy in the grandstands of Heaven. Singing at the top of his little 2 year old lungs. To the very face of the One he’s singing about. And I lose it.
All grip I had on any stoicism that morning is lost, and the tears fall.
We are called to love one another this season. To look beyond our own little bubbles of bustling to and fro, the business of gift getting and party going. To reach out past our own little worlds and love those around you. This year, that is exactly what I want to do. What I have to do. During a Christmas season that is seemingly saturated with so much loss, grief, heartache… I can’t even begin to expound on how much.
My heart aches for the 2 newly-heartbroken mamas in my life who had to bury their boys over the last 6 weeks. My heart is ripped out for the journey of grief they have just barely embarked on. And it grieves my heart to have had a taste of what they feel.
20 weeks… 28 years.. 60 years… No Mama should ever have to bury their baby, no matter how many moments we were graciously gifted with them.
For those around me who have gotten the worst news: health issues, loss, heartbreak. For you, my heart breaks. Yes, this Christmas season is my first as a single, babyloss mama… and, strangely, my own hurts and heartache over that fact seem to be the backdrop for this current season of grief for so many around me.
For those of us who are hurting for the Holidays, please be kind. Please be sensitive. And please, give us full permission to laugh at our crazy dad’s traipsing around in Elf costumes one moment, and the next be sobbing in a church pew, aching for Home.
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Jamie Maurer is a bereaved mother from Phoenix, AZ. She has a perfect baby boy in Heaven named Edwin George. He was born sleeping on April 6th, 2013. She lives her life every day to keep Edwin’s memory alive, and to give glory to God even in the midst of grief.
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