Breathing again

I feel such a huge sense of relief. I actually made it all the way through Christmas and I'm still relatively sane - or at least no crazier than I normally am. Usually Boxing Day finds me a little melancholy and reflective, but today I'm just letting out a huge sigh of relief. It's over.

I will never, ever have to have another first Christmas without Thomas again.

Dreading Christmas goes against every fibre of my being. I have alwaysloved Christmas and all it's sparkly, cinnamon-scented glory. But this year I looked at it through new eyes and all I could see was the Santa Suit my Mom knitted for Thomas and gave to me last Christmas. I saw what should have been - a 9 1/2 month old crawling amongst the boxes under the tree and giggling with delight at Santas, snowmen and a bunch of loving aunts, uncles and Grandparents all vying for his undivided attention.

I saw what I'll never have. My son.

So it was hard to get in the spirit. I hope it returns a little each year, but I know I'll always feel an emptiness where Thomas should have been. At Christmas and always.

Always.

I naturally tend to think of Thomas' death as the loss of my baby. I mean, he died at 20 hours old - I did lose a baby. But last week for some reason it dawned on me (in a way it hadn't before) that I lost a whole lot of people. I lost my baby, yes, but I also lost the boy I longed to see grow and man he would become.

I lost so much more than just that tiny child. I lost an entire lifetime of Thomas.

We all did.

But I'm learning to live with it. One massive hurdle at a time.

Christmas is over. Thank God.