Notice how I just skipped right over Christmas? Like it didn’t even happen? Well, it sort of didn’t. I mean, December 25th came and went and my kids opened lots of presents from Santa, but for me, Christmas didn’t happen.
Why? I spent the early morning hours and the afternoon with my head draped over the toilet and saying prayer after prayer for the Lord to spare me, and the rest of the day in the emergency room. A stomach bug hit me right at the very worst time.
All of the work, all of the thought, the effort, the joy of planning Christmas morning (the very first Christmas morning for Paityn) was totally overshadowed. I didn’t get to enjoy any of it. I ended up at the hospital for about five hours. The hours that I was at home I was paying little to no attention to my kids. I didn’t get to hug and kiss this and tell them Merry Christmas. I didn’t get any cute Christmas morning, kids in their pj’s pictures. I didn’t get to ooo and ahh over what Santa had brought. I felt completely and udderly jipped. Still do, really.
While I laid in bed at the hospital, just a few short weeks after the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting, I kept repeating to myself over and over, “There are 16 mother’s in Newton, CT that would gladly trade me places.” Remember just how lucky you are.
Brady still had a blast and Paityn still didn’t even know what the heck was going on. Thankfully, we had a Christmas Eve celebration at Guy’s parents the night before, so I at least got a few quick pictures of them. It wasn’t the Christmas that I envisioned or the Christmas I felt like I wanted to give my kids. But… we were still a very, very blessed family that day. And everyday.
Liz is a just a mom trying to keep it real about how little she sleeps, how often she gets puked on and how much she loves them. You can find her here every day writing about real-mom moments.