Ever since the birth of my son Gabriel in 2008, Christmas has taken on a whole new, shiny veneer. It's exciting seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child - through the eyes of your own child - and this Christmas was one Scott and I were looking forward to the most. It was going to be our first Christmas as a complete family. From here on out there would always be three kids on Santa's knee, three kids to eat my holiday baking, three kids to tear wildly at the presents placed neatly under our fake, but cute, little tree.
And then the words congenital heart defect sent our world into a tailspin. Family get together's this year has been cancelled because we can't allow Puck to fall ill. Santa pictures at the mall are not going to happen either for the same reason. On top of all that the doctors also informed us that the lasix *may not* continue to work once Puck hits six weeks to two months of age. If he's going to take a turn for the worse and need more medicine or more hospital visits it's going to be at Christmas time.
So Christmas, with all it's new, shiny veneer, has been tarnished by the knowledge that my son could wind up failing to thrive right around the time Santa is saying "ho ho ho" over our homey, detached townhouse.
But I have two other children. Two other babies who don't understand any of this. They deserve a great Christmas with their new baby brother, and I am bound and determined to give it to them. So although I'm terrified that Puck's heart will hit new, all time lows this holly jolly Christmas...I can't allow that fear to ruin Christmas for Gabe and Edie. So I have talked Scott into buying a Santa suit and playing Santa for our photos this year. And I'm taking votes on what Christmas goodies to bake. And decorating the Christmas tree will be an exciting and new adventure for Gabe and his sister. And on that very first Christmas together I plan on taking a million photos, and hours of video footage, while my kids sit on Santa's knee, eat my delicious holiday baking, and tear wildly at the wrapped presents under our fake, but cute, little tree.
And maybe...just maybe...God will see fit to grant us a Holiday miracle...and in January at Puck's next ultrasound I'll hear the words "the holes are growing over". That would be the best Christmas gift Scott and I could ever recieve.