A Tale of Two Christmases

We had a white Christmas. I had a fire in the fireplace all day. We had a leisurely day. There were the right amount of gifts under the tree. The boys played happily with their toys all day. We had friends over for dinner. It was nearly the perfect Christmas day, the quickly squashed migraine kept it from being perfect. It was a stark contrast to a Christmas eight years ago.

Eight years ago, it was sweetP's first Christmas. He was about seven months old. I was so excited about his first Christmas and ours as parents. Unfortunately, there was a problem that crept up at about six a.m. It was a pain and it was familiar. It was a pain that generally sends me to the ER. That's right, the day dawned with the movement of a kidney stone. It was just Ducky and I at home with sweetP. Our little house was magical and bright. SweetP slept in until at least seven, his gift to his parents (my 5 a.m. boy). I laid there in denial. It could not, it would not happen on Christmas day.

We have video of opening gifts. I am in pain and it shows. I was trying so hard to enjoy helping him open a package of mittens. He went down for his nap and I tried everything to feel better. A hot shower, walking, drinking water, a heating pad. No luck. By the time he woke up from his nap, it was time to go. We packed him in the car. There was no snow that year. We headed off to the ER.

I had been there ten days before. Same stone, different day. I checked in and then waited. There were carolers in the waiting room. I have never hated Christmas songs before that day. If I hadn't been hoping to die or at least pass out, I might have let them know how painful their singing was. Not their actual singing, but the fact that they were reminding me of what day it was, and how it was my baby's first Christmas and we were in the ER. Insult to injury. I'm sure people in other parts of the hospital would have enjoyed their singing more.

I made it in to see my favorite ER doc. I had already seen him twice before. He scanned me, drugged me and sent me home after giving me the option to check in and stay a while. The rest of my Christmas day was spent in a drug-induced, drowsy stupor. There was no Christmas dinner. Our neighbors brought Ducky a plate of leftovers. SweetP doesn't remember a thing, I will never forget.

By comparison, a quickly squashed migraine is a mild inconvenience. Our Christmas was everything I could hope for. My children did not fight all day. There were almost no demands to get stuff done, Ducky's fretting about dinner getting done will soon be a distant memory. It was quiet and calm and happy.