When you are dealing with infertility, holidays are hard. No, scratch that… they are excruciating. I think Thanksgiving and Christmas are the worst. I believe Christmas wins for the worst holiday for infertiles (those who celebrate it, anyway) since there’s such a big lead up to it as reminders… it pretty much starts the day after Thanksgiving.
Christmas is about the birth of Jesus first and foremost… but it’s also about celebrating this amazing time with family. I’m lucky that Huzzy isn’t deployed this year, but he does have duty Christmas Eve Day, which means he’ll be gone all day the 24th and won’t be back until mid-morning Christmas Day—and then he’ll sleep for at least four hours as soon as he gets home. This means we won’t be able to go to Christmas Eve candlelight service, which makes me incredibly sad. Candlelight service is my favorite church service of the whole year.
I will probably go on my own, but being alone without my husband just emphasizes the fact that my arms are empty. I should have a little one in my arms to take with me to the service. Heck, I should be pregnant with our second by now.
I had to leave Twitter for a while because I couldn’t take the reminders. Couldn’t take the THREE pregnancy announcements in the last week. Couldn’t take the complaining about being pregnant or the complaining about children. And if any of my Tweeps are reading this, it isn’t you… it’s me. Seriously. You have a right to be excited an announce a pregnancy. You have a right to be in pain and complaining about your pregnancy. And let’s face it… kids can be super frustrating—you have a right to be complaining about that, too. And normally, it doesn’t faze me (unless you do nothing but complaining, then I hit unfollow), but right now, I’m still trying to come to terms with our failed IVF, my baby brother’s pregnant wife, and the holidays. I can’t deal with all of them AND get reminders about what I’m missing. Heck, I’ve had to do this when people were complaining about their husbands while mine was 20,000 leagues under the sea for the holidays. It’s a survival tactic. Because I must survive. I must.
Being alone for holidays—just the two of us without other family—is bad enough. But being alone without my husband for Christmas Eve just makes it that much worse. It also doesn’t help that Huzzy isn’t really “into” Christmas. He did end up bringing up the tree for me this year, but it wasn’t until Saturday. When I asked him if he wanted me to bake Christmas cookies, he said he didn’t care. He doesn’t want to help decorate anything and really isn’t into the Christmas spirit.
I, on the other hand, looooove Christmas. I love the love that surrounds Christmas. But without my family and without anyone who really “cares” if I make an effort for it… my Christmas light is dimming. Baking cookies takes a lot of effort. And when no one even appreciates that effort nor cares that it happens makes it not worth it. Same thing goes with decorating.
Other than celebrating the reason for the season, this is a pretty non-descript Christmas. The second worst, ever (first being in 2010 when I was alone in a new place, with no family OR friends and a deployed husband whom I had not had even an email from since two weeks before Thanksgiving—and he was supposed to be home WEEKS before Christmas!).
I’m so done with the holidays and with this year. This year can suck it. Bring on 2014!