All these December Moments

I found myself walking through Wal-mart the other day in the Christmas department looking for a third set of lights for our tree. It was sort of comical. The two sets of lights we owned wrapped around our tree, but only went 2/3 of the way up. I laughed, because it looked so ridiculous. So it sat half done for about two days until I found myself willing enough to brave the Christmas department.

As I was looking around, I found a few things that we needed. One of the things I wanted to look for was an ornament that could dress our tree in Jenna's memory from her Daddy and me. So I started my way down where the stockings were. Oh, and did I mention I am looking for the perfect fuchsia stocking? Or at least something that reminds me of her. Well none of the stockings were right, so I kept going. I strolled down the aisles in raw numbness, I could not feel anything or maybe I was not letting myself feel anything. I stopped at the end of one of the aisles. There were small silver ornaments and there was one engraved "Baby's First Christmas". I didn't even want to cry.

I pulled it into the palm of my hand and felt wonder. What does it feel like to be able to buy one of these?

I feel a little crazy, now that I think about it. But in all honesty, who defines crazy these days? I turned the corner and the next aisle had every assortment of colors of different ornaments. I stared at the dark fuchsia ones. (My mother did a Christmas tree for Jenna, decorated in all pink. It is just lovely. I need to get a picture of it.)

The longer I stared at the ornaments, the more I could feel my body failing to supply the numb anesthetic that had succumbed my urge to burst into tears. Thank God I didn't. I did begin to tear up and realized I was not alone on that aisle. I wondered if the lady a few yards away noticed my aimless stare and sudden weakness.

I walked away trying to shake the weakness off. I liked how I was adjusting before December. The last aisle had poinsettias. I wanted some for my Jenna's grave. I grabbed one and then put it back. The real ones may die sooner than I would like them too, or freeze. The thoughts just kept rolling in my frail mind, that I am getting my dead daughter flowers for Christmas. I don't even like poinsettias all that much! I thought to myself. I want her to be a part of this Christmas as much as possible but I shouldn't be getting my seven month old flowers!!!! 
  
I cannot honestly say that the disbelief that this is my life has many moments in my train of thought anymore. I get it now. At least I think I do. This is life... forever. No, it's not okay with me. But I am learning to embrace this on some level. But as I stared at those ornaments and realized that I was searching for my dead daughter's first ornament from us, it once again hit me like a ton of bricks. And it happened all over again with the stupid poinsettias. I walked away and went to find the trash bags. And of course a few feet away from the trash bag aisle, are displayed the frilly, lacy Christmas dresses for infants. Logic behind that? Not sure...

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I did manage to find a bouquet of silk flowers at Wal-Mart before I left. I was quite pleased. It did have poinsettias in it, but it also had an assortment of Christmas colored flowers, and even a pine cone. I really could not wait to put it in her vase. I decided I would also put an ornament by her marker as well. I chose the very first ornament Jenna ever received, from her "Auntie" Katie! It is so sweet. It is a tiny bald baby, wrapped in a red blanket. I just love it. There is so much love and heart behind it. I found it with our Christmas stuff when I was decorating the tree for the last time. Of course it melted my heart. I received it from my dear friend, Katie when I was no more than two months along.

I grabbed it off the tree this morning on the way out to put it near her this Christmas. I also put a big Christmas bell with her too.

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As me and my hubby were standing there in this beautiful cold, December weather, I suddenly realized I do not feel her there anymore. That, to me, was awesome. I can't describe it proficiently, but I will try. It is morbid enough to visit your dead baby, but to have that be the only place you feel their presence is even more depressing. I feel her so near sometimes while I am just sitting, or writing or thinking or reading. It was a relief this fifth of the month to feel her absence by her tombstone. I love visiting her, but I am so thankful for this change.

She would have been my sweet seven month old baby. She still is, she is just celebrating her seven months with Jesus and all our angels.

I really hope she has a fuchsia pony up there.