“I am so sorry.”

Once again I lay on the ultrasound table staring through tear-filled eyes at the doctor. She had no explanation, but to tell me that my child’s heart had suddenly stopped at twenty weeks. 

“I just doesn’t understand why,” she said. “I am so sorry.” Just like that, I was thrown back into familiar territory – for the fifth time.  

I had become terrified to hear the words, “I am so sorry.” And rightfully so.

Christmas is work.  It is stress.  We usually take the whole month of December off in our homeschool just so I can handle the shopping, wrapping, decorating, and most of all: the baking.  My family’s favorites: Norwegian lefse, mocha truffles, peppermint bark, and sugar cookies delicately frosted with fine tips to resemble snowflakes.  We combat the stress by blasting loud Christmas music while we do it all.

This is the year is different.  It’s the first Christmas since we became aware of my 10 year old’s food issues connected with his auto-immune disease.

By the time you read this, December will be a reality.  And some of you will have presents wrapped, decorations up, and sugar cookies in the freezer.  Others of you will still have pumpkins and an inflatable turkey on your front porch.  Regardless, the official season of Advent will have already started because it starts in November this year, which always catches me a little off guard. 

I fall somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. 

"I'll be home for Christmas...you can count on me..."

The first line of the familiar tune wasn't even finished and the tears had sprung, unbidden. I reached over and pushed the skip button.

I just can't. Not today.

After years of pining to have a Christmas in America with family, we were finally here and able to do just that. So why was it still so hard?