All I Want For Christmas

When someone actually tells you that you have 3-5 years to live, what do you do with that?

a) Say "Thanks for the info," and plan for the next 3-5 years..

b) Stand there and stomp your feet crying "no, no, no!"

c) Stare off into space wondering how you're going to get out of this one.

d) Look around, realize you have a family to take care of, snap out of it and go change a diaper.

e) All of the above.

Unoriginal I know, but that's right, the answer was (e).

[Pause: Except that the (b) answer was kinda modified. I imagined myself hysterically responding that way but didn't actually go through with it...fortunately for everyone around me.]

One of the most important things I learned very quickly on Christmas Eve was I really didn't have the time to dwell on my diagnosis so I had to choose the pensive moments very carefully and privately. My kids taught me that, especially my 17 month old baby. They became such a welcome and very necessary distraction. They had their priorities and Christmas Eve was a very exciting time for them. There was Christmas music and telling stories and reading "The Night Before Christmas" and carrots for reindeer and cookies for Santa and finally bedtime. 

There may have been a moment...but just a moment when my mind would start wandering and I would glance at my husband deep in thought. 

I wonder.

His pensive moment.

And then it was over. For now.

Breathe.

Back to the distraction. Stay up as long as possible and wrap gifts so I can fall asleep without too much noise in my head. Big surprises must be ready for tomorrow.  We look in on the kids before going to bed and feel such peace.

My husband and I fall asleep holding hands. 

The magic of children and Christmas morning. For me it is one of the most joyful experiences ever. This year was no exception but it was different. That dreamlike state again. Kind of like watching from the outside in or hovering above it all. Taking it all in. It was so important to be present in every moment of the day.

Because who knows.

What if.

When they were young our kids always used to love getting me emotional to the point of crying and I don't know why. They knew what it took and they were proud of their accomplishment. Whether it was a handmade gift from school, a photo, something they'd written to me or a book I read to them, they loved it.

"Oh Mom, are you crying? Is that a tear?" Followed by laughter.

Every time.

The Christmas book, "The Polar Express", was no exception. I loved it and I loved reading it to them. I could get through the entire book no problem. Until the final page.

"At one time most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me as it does for all who truly believe."

Deep breath.

Believe.

All I wanted for Christmas that year was for it to last forever.