It is Halloween weekend. Overnight, the air (finally) turned decidedly chilly. Many of my friends (whether they have children or not) are excitedly preparing for Halloween with pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns and house decorations and costumes and candy.
But not me. I just don’t have it in me. The most festive I could force myself to get was to buy two large potted red mums on impulse at Costco. Even those, blooming cheerily and brightly at the bottom of our front steps, seem hollow and false, as if they are trying too hard to hide somehow the sadness within the house behind them. Ed and I were at the grocery store on Sunday night and, seeing the rows and rows of Halloween candy, I asked, “Are we going to do anything for Halloween?” And by “do anything,” all I meant was “Are we going to give candy out?” I already knew the answer was no. We talked about whether it would be enough to just keep the front porch lights off, hang out upstairs and ignore the bell if it rang, or whether we might need to actually leave the house and do something else. Either way, it is just awful. But I just don’t think I can bear all the shiny, expectant little faces and all the cute costumes at the door. As it is, I think I will probably just have to avoid Facebook altogether for the next several days.
I know that this is just the beginning of what is going to be a long, sad season. My mother-in-law sent us an email last week with plans for Thanksgiving Day, and my heart just sank in my chest even thinking about it. The week after Thanksgiving is Hudson’s birthday, and although we will still celebrate it, it will be a very different celebration than it should be, than I am desperate for it to be. And only a few weeks later, we will have to endure the saddest Christmas of our lives. I have already been thinking hard about how much decorating for Christmas I can stand to do, even though decorating the house has always been one of my favorite parts about Christmas. I’ve been contemplating several scenarios by which I might avoid having to sit through the unwrapping of presents on Christmas morning (I’ve always loved watching people’s faces when they open the gifts I bought them), including going on a vacation and skipping it altogether.
I know I shouldn’t be thinking and worrying and dreading all of these things now. One day at a time and all that. But they are all part of a greater dilemma I have been facing lately. I’ve long been a person who believes in living life to the fullest. From the moment I first watched Dead Poets Society at the tender (and highly impressionable) age of thirteen, and heard the phrase carpe diem, and listened to the words of Thoreau, I’ve “wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life.” I haven’t always done very well at this, but I have always kept it as a guiding principle. And now more than ever, I feel strongly that I need to live well, to live fully, to live the very best life that I can, for Hudson’s sake, because she will never get that chance. So it is terribly hard for me to feel like doing nothing more than curling up with a book, the television, or the internet. It is hard for me to wish I could just ignore my favorite holidays as they pass by, as if by ignoring them, they won’t actually happen without Hudson. As though if I wait long enough, she’ll be back and we can celebrate them with her then.
After my post a while back about how exhausting it is to be grieving and pregnant all at the same time, a friend of mine told me that it was just fine for me to “hibernate” until the spring. And truly, part of me does feel like my life might actually begin again in the spring when this baby comes and I get to be a mom again. Not that my life will start over, but just that it will restart. And part of me does just want to phone it in until then. Because being a mom who doesn’t actually get to be a mom, who doesn’t get to dress her little girl for Halloween or carve pumpkins with her or take her trick-or-treating or watch The Great Pumpkin with her or decorate paper turkeys with her for school or talk about things we’re thankful for with her or buy Christmas outfits and gifts for her or make Christmas cookies with her or read The Grinch or The Night Before Christmas with her or help her pick out a Christmas present for her daddy and grandparents (and don’t even get me started about snow and our birthdays and spring and the kite festival and the cherry blossoms and Easter)… well, it feels pretty much like sleepwalking anyway.
Oh, Mandy. I send you a big, giant hug. I think your idea about going away is a good one. It'll still be Christmas, but a change in location and a sandy beach might be able to help, even a teeny bit. - Anne N.
ReplyDeleteI think hibernating through the holidays is a good idea! You need to do whatever you need to do to make it to the other side of this season. This will be the worst year, I am sure. But, after that you will continue your traditions and celebrating with your new baby, all the while including and honoring Hudson and holding her close in your heart.
ReplyDeleteI am so, so sorry that your Hudson is not here.
Brigid
It's OK. It really is. You are grieving. You hurt. Curl up with your book. Go on a tropical vacation for Christmas. Do it. You can. You aren't giving in, you aren't failing. You are doing what you need to do. There is no time limit on grief. There are no rules for your grief. It's not selfish - it's self-preservation. Nurture yourself, and nurture that new life, new hope, new beginning growing in you. It's OK.
ReplyDeleteI am so very sorry. I think your friend is right- hibernation can be so healing. And while the desire to live life to the very fullest is certainly admirable, sometimes it is good to dig deeper to what that means...and I think at this time, hibernation is not an inactive state but rather the difficult and important action of tending to your grief. And I hope that you and Ed are able to give yourselves permission to do that- and again, we are just so sorry that you have to endure this. Please know that we are thinking of you and praying for you daily.
ReplyDeleteI agree. There will be other Christmases. It's OK to skip this one. (I think if you went away you would find lots of people doing the same, opting out of the holidays, for all kinds of reasons.) Anyway, caring for yourself, protecting yourself, is not the same as giving up or opting out of life. The way you describe it, getting through 'till spring is an act of hope - you are healing yourself not just FROM something but FOR something.
ReplyDelete(Or you can come to our house in December - no Christmas there! Nor even a menorah!)
I'm thinking somewhere adult...like the Poconoes! Or Paris with fancy adult restaurants. Somewhere you won't be able to go for the next few years with a new bambino and where there won't be a lot of little ones this year.
ReplyDeleteHang in there, the holidaze will be over soon.
Melissa Floyd
Your point about being a mom who doesn't get to be a mom right now couldn't be a better reason to allow this time to pass and to do nothing more than you're able to do for you, Ed and your little caterpillar. So hard to look forward or to reflect on the past when you're in this purgatory :( I so desperately wish we could help to alleviate some of the pain that this fall, winter and spring bring with them - we'll continue to be right beside you through it all.
ReplyDeleteIt struck me reading your post about how you are, in the midst of this terribleness, living life to the fullest in a very, very intimate way that many others will never experience. That life can contain this depth of pain is an awful experience for you and for all of us who have mourned Hudson. That your courage, compassion, and hope have survived this part of "life" is really a testament to the fact that you are living life to the fullest in one of the most radical ways possible. Your friend down 12th St, Erin
ReplyDeleteI echo what many others have said...you need to do whatever is right for you and Ed this year. And, certainly that will change day to day, but if there is anything that will ease getting through to the other side of the holidays without your sweet Hudson beside you, make plans to do it. And, keep that glimmer of hope, that next year, you will be celebrating with a new babe and honoring Hudson as you enter these months. Love to you-
ReplyDeleteamber
You should do whatever you feel like doing, whenever you feel like doing it. In my opinion, that is part of living life to the fullest....recognizing that you can do what you want, when you want, and that you don't always have to do something just because other people are doing it or other people want you to do it. There will be other, happier holidays. So if you need to hibernate till spring, I say go for it. Thinking of you today xoxoxo
ReplyDeleteI echo most of the comments here - this is about survival. You don't need to please anyone. There will be plenty of time to live life to the fullest for Hudson and carry on traditions, maybe it's just not this winter. This holiday season just do whatever feels right, and if nothing feels right, do whatever causes the least pain.
ReplyDelete-Dabney
I never truly understood the holiday blues until the fall after I had a miscarriage, my MIL and both my grandparents died. I tried giving out candy on Halloween, but I mostly laid on the couch and cried. We were scheduled to spend Christmas with my family in NC. A week before, I called my husband at work and asked if he wanted to go on a vacation instead. That day I booked a trip for us to an all-inclusive, no children Sandals resort in the Bahamas. We flew out Christmas Eve. It was exactly what we needed; they were the first consecutive days in months that I didn't cry. I felt bad disappointing my mom by not coming home, but sometimes it's ok to put yourself first. I can tell from your blog how incredibly selfless you are, always thinking of others. Please don't feel bad if navigating this difficult season in a non-traditional, non-festive, non-family way makes it less painful.
ReplyDeleteSusan Lindsay
Mandy, one remarkable thing that has always struck me about you is, as others have said, how selfless you are. You've been so incredibly selfless even through this awful thing, losing Hudson. I wouldn't even call it "selfish", but I know no one -- even those who might be disappointed not to get to celebrate with you -- would begrudge you and Ed deciding to hibernate, skip or otherwise do the holidays differently, by yourselves, whatever, just because it's less painful than the "normal" thing.
ReplyDeleteYou are not hiding, you are grieving. You already know there's no expiration date on grief-- you have to live in whatever state it hands you until it hands you a different one. I don't know how I would do it were I actually in your shoes, but as someone outside it, I know that you can blow this hot dog stand and nobody will think any the less of you. The first holiday season without Hudson is so incredibly unnatural that thee is no reason that you should have to do all the "normal" things.
ReplyDeleteI've been reading this blog for awhile, crying along with you and praying for your family. I also lost a baby (my 4th) 15 years ago. I remember wishing I could just skip the holidays too, but I had 3 little ones at home (but not 4)and I didn't really have that option. I know I really, really really wanted to though. Sometimes, escaping can be magic. My husband and I instead "adopted" a needy family that Christmas. We played Santa and played tribute to the little one that died by doing a good deed. We still do it to this day, 7 kids later, as a way to remember... I'll keep praying for you and your husband.
ReplyDeleteMandy, don't add on to your grief and pain by doing something that doesn't feel right. Christmas is a very emotional time for many people (me included) and if you and your husband cannot stand to celebrate this year than just skip it. Yes, just say no to Christmas this year if it makes it easier!
ReplyDeleteHop on a plane and fly to London with your Ed, go to Paris and cuddle up in a nice hotel or fly to a sunny island and come back when Christmas is over. Besides, you won't be able to do any of this next year with the baby coming.
Bottomline, put yourself first, follow your instincts. Time is on your side.
J.F/Singapore
Mandy, I look forward to spring for you...fitting that your baby is due in the season of rebirth and renewal. In the meantime, hang on tight to those that love you. xo, Olivia
ReplyDeleteMandy - I think that if you and Ed want to skip out of town and hibernate or sun yourselves someplace warm or tromp through London or Paris, then do it. Indulge yourselves in the luxury of being able to 'skip' Christmas - wherever you are on 12/25, your Hudson will be with you in your heart. It makes perfect sense to me that you might want to be elsewhere for the holidays. Give this present to yourself. It can your One Good Thing about Christmas - Love - Mariann
ReplyDelete