Holidays are Hard

Last week was Thanksgiving. We had a house full of family, too much food, and many things to be grateful for, but my mind kept floating back to last year.

Last year, Thanksgiving was the day we told our families that we were having a little boy. We were so excited. Earlier that week we had gone and had a 3D ultrasound. It was amazing. They gave us a stuffed panda bear with a recording of his little heartbeat inside. We left and immediately went and purchased our first outfits for our son, a onesie and some pajamas.

We spent the holiday season excitedly talking about how different it would be next year. We were so thankful for our little boy and we were so excited that next year we would be doing all of our holiday traditions as a family of three.

We talked about taking Joshua to see the Plaza lights. We wondered if he would notice the pretty colors. We would get his picture taken with Santa, we wondered if he would be smiling or crying for the big man in red. We would buy way too many toys, take a million photos, and make lots of memories. We planned. We dreamed.

Last year We bought an ornament that said “Parents To Be” and a small snowman that had his name on it. We were so excited to hang them on the tree. Next year we would be buying his first Christmas ornament and starting a new tradition that we would continue through the years.

On Christmas, Josh received gifts of clothes, stuffed animals, toys, and even a car seat. Everyone was excited about their new grandson/nephew/cousin.

We had a list of photos we wanted to take of Josh with his first Christmas tree, his first snow fall, opening presents…

Instead, we put up the tree this weekend, and I cried as I came across the “Parents To Be” ornament, the snowman with his name, and the ornament his Aunt Lindsay bought him with his initial “J.”

Instead of buying a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament, we bought a memorial ornament instead.


There won’t be any cute photos of our son sitting on Santa’s lap or in front of the Christmas tree. There are no toys to buy for our first born. No wrapping paper for him to try and tear.

Instead, with tears in our eyes, we picked a little boy named Joshua off of the Salvation Army Angel tree, and we will buy him the Hot Wheels he asked for.

Maybe if we can make someone else’s Christmas a little brighter it will help ease some of the ache.

This year has been hard. I’m ready to say goodbye to 2013 and I pray with all that I have left that next year is different…


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