Tis the 6th Day of Christmas

Today is exactly one week before Christmas... a special day that I have marked for more years than I care to remember.  Sometimes it's best not to remember how many years... and just enjoy the moment you are in.

On this 6th day of Christmas, I choose to share a personal story. One that I hold close to my heart. It may explain why I enjoy Christmas so much and why I feel the need to share the spirit of Christmas... even here on this gardening blog.

A Christmas That Would Change My Life...Forever!

A Christmas baby… I was going to have a Christmas baby! The news made my mind spin with delight.  I was a Christmas baby, well sort of. I had been born exactly a week before Christmas and my mother had always proclaimed that I was the best Christmas present she ever received.  I loved to hear her tell of how she brought me home on Christmas day and that I was my brother’s “baby doll.” The thought of my having a real Christmas baby was better than any vision of sugar plums, though the thought did seem to dance in my head.

Dr. Chris looked at me with quiet resolve. “Hmm-m-m… December 25th.  Let’s make that December 26th, I’ve never delivered a baby on Christmas in all these years.  We’ll plan on the 26th.”  I understood why he may not want to interrupt his holiday to deliver a baby, but I smiled back with my own quiet resolve.  My baby would be born on Christmas.

Christmas morning we arose early to two little ones with bright eyes of Christmas delight.  Nathan, three, and Lexi, twenty months, kept us busy as we discovered what Santa had left under the tree and one by one unwrapped our gifts.  I was still certain that this would be the day my Christmas baby would be born..

Soon, it was time to make the drive to Grandma's house for the family Christmas party.  I quietly packed two suitcases, one for Nathan and Lexi, with several days clothing, and one for me, with the things I would need at the hospital and sweet tiny clothes for my new little baby.  Dr. Chris had assured me days earlier that we were on track for a “day after Christmas baby.” Determined to prove him wrong, I simply replied,  “Have a Merry Christmas!”   I knew in my heart that I was going to deliver a Christmas baby.

The drive to Grandma’s was especially long.  Little arms and legs were tired of being in such cramped quarters and were causing me such discomfort.  I would gently rub the protrusion on my bulging stomach until the little limb would pull back, giving me temporary relief until the next time.  My family each expressed surprise at seeing me as we joined the Christmas party, they thought I surely would have delivered by then.  I assured them that all was well. 

Precisely at 4:00 p.m.  I began to feel contractions. We were in the middle of opening presents when I whispered to my husband to help me time them.  Within an hour the contractions were quite regular and I became very much aware that I was a such long way from my doctor and the hospital.  I quietly but emphatically announced that we would be leaving for the hospital.  Now.

“Can you wait for something to eat?” someone queried as they realized dinner was about to be served.

“No, we’re going now” I softly replied between contractions as I directed Mark to get the kids suitcase from the car. Grandma was surprised to discover that we were so prepared and had thought to bring a suitcase for my little ones.  Of course, I knew that everything was working according to plan. 

The drive was especially long for Mark.  My contractions were getting longer and more frequent, I was sure that he was becoming more and more concerned.  It was a 2 hour drive to the hospital.  We finally arrived with little time to spare.   Dr. Chris greeted us, somewhat relieved that we had waited until evening, giving him time to spend Christmas with his family.  He asked me how my day had been and I replied that the only part of Christmas that I missed was Christmas dinner.  The labor progressed well, just as we had anticipated and at exactly 9:00 p.m. my Christmas baby was born.

His cry pierced the quiet hush of the “Silent Night."   "A boy" the doctor proclaimed with a twinkle in his eye. And he has ten fingers and ten little toes. I smiled with quiet contemplation as I realized that indeed all was well.

Later that night, my beautiful little boy was  brought to me, all clean and warm and snugly in a Christmas stocking, and sleeping soundly I might add.  I gazed into his perfect little face and pondered on the night’s experience.  It was Christmas night, a sacred, holy night.   I looked through my window at the new fallen snow below. All was calm and all was bright.  I couldn’t help but wonder about the night our Savior was born so long ago. Tears filled my eyes as I compared my conditions in this clean and quiet hospital room with the manger of the Savior’s birth.  There was no sound of animals, no straw surrounding me as I cradled my son within my arms, but the room was filled with a wonder and peace that filled my soul. That night I felt a closeness that returns to me each time I hear the song “Silent Night, Holy Night”.  A Christmas baby... I had given birth to a Christmas baby and it changed my life forever.

 I've now made it halfway through 

my Twelve Days of Christmas theme, 

another reason to celebrate.