The Scene is Set

December 8, 2009

There's a scene that's been set in my home. It's a warm, happy, peaceful scene. I've taken a lot of care in setting it too; candles here and there, the tree placed just so, the fireplace lit, stockings, ornaments, it's all there. But there's one thing missing. Harper.

I thought specifically about this Christmas when I was pregnant. I thought about how last Christmas my baby would only have been a few months old, so she wouldn't have understood or gotten excited or curious about any of the holiday festivities. But this Christmas, this Christmas she would have been 16 months old. She would have been into everything and curious and she would have been able to open her own gifts.

When the scene wasn't set, I didn't think about it as much. I didn't notice what was missing. But now it is, and there is this gaping hole in the vision the lays before me. And so I cry because that's all I can do. I cry, and I tell myself I'm not going to pretend to be happy if I'm feeling sad. I'm going to be true to what I'm feeling.

Yesterday was a chilly day. I couldn't seem to warm up for the life of me. Even with a cup of hot tea my hands were like icicles. So when I came home I started a fire in the fireplace and sat in front of it, watching the flames. You know that trance you fall under in front of a fireplace? Not the creepy arson kind of trance (smile), but the peaceful, warm one? I fell into the trance. Jeremy came and sat with me and asked what I was thinking about. Again, the tears began to fall. I told him about my tearful drive in to work and about the ache I had for Harper. I told him about the scene and how painful it was that she wasn't in it. He came beside me and wrapped his arms around me. "Oh, that's a tough way to start your day off. Sets the mood for the whole day, doesn't it?"

After a few moments I got myself together. We sat and enjoyed the cozy feeling a little while longer. "You would have been in your element too Abby," he said. "Yeah. I would have," I agreed. And then I let myself dream out loud the detailed dreams of her, because I knew he would appreciate them.

"We would have made cookies together. She would have helped me decorate them. They would have been a mess too. Can you picture it? She would have dumped sprinkles on them and covered every last visible spot of icing, but she would have loved it." And I would have loved it. I would have loved eating her sloppy, happy, over-decorated cookies.

Can you see how she's so real to me? From the moment I read the pregnancy test (which just so happened to be two years ago on December 4th), my fantasies of her began. It's enough to make a person not want to dream any more. But who am I kidding? I've always been a dreamer and I will continue to be one. No matter how painful it proves to be.

Did I mention I'm going to the support group tonight? Wish me luck . . .