I've spent many years collecting some lovely Christmas tree decorations, and each year, they never fail to prompt a trip down Memory Lane. There are the ones covered in glitter, lovingly handmade by my children at school and proudly presented on Christmas morning many, many years ago. There are the hand-painted ceramic ones created during my crazy hobby days - these are family favourites, as two were made with my eldest children's names lovingly painted on them. There are the pretty jeweled ones bought during my 'coordinating' stage, where the Christmas tree had to match the living room decor. And then, crowning this spectacle of fairy lights and tinsel is the Christmas Angel smiling down upon us.
But this story isn't about the Christmas Angel gracing the top of the tree, it's about the three and a half angels gathered beneath it. My Christmas Angels.
Number One is now in her mid-twenties, but she still gets just as excited as the youngest on Christmas morning. I have walked a rocky path with this Christmas Angel, with some devastatingly hard lessons about love, trust and betrayal. But together we have worked at polishing the Christmas Star she holds in her heart, bringing back the sheen and repairing the dents it collected along the way. Some of the chips and dents will always remain, but her star shines brighter despite this.She is the most courageous person I know, living life to its fullest and not letting past ghosts shadow her bright future, accepting that the challenging times are what have shaped her and built her unwavering spirit. This Christmas Angel is my hero. I hope when I grow up, I'm as wise and brave as she is.
Number Two is My Boy. Always a deep thinker, he has had his own demons to battle, but his wise insights and caring nature makes my heart swell with pride. Being a boy, he tends to hide his star, but I can always peer through that wall to see how brightly his light shines, as only mothers can. An early talker as an infant, he now speaks 'teen-shorthand' - that language teenagers share where whole sentences are reduced to single syllables and gestures, like the jerk of a chin accompanied by 'S'up?' as a greeting. However when he does talk, we have the most amazing conversations where I never cease to be amazed by his wisdom and ability to see multiple perspectives. His sense of humour has us crying with laughter or smiling secretly at a shared 'in-joke'. I have the deepest affection for this Christmas Angel, sharing that special heart-connection mothers and sons are blessed with. I hope one day he can see his light just as clearly as I can.
Number Three is our little monkey, full of mischief and exhausting energy. Like the EverReady bunny, she just never seems to tire, packing more in a day than I can manage in a week. She bounces out of bed each morning full of joy, looking forward with anticipation toward a Brand New Day and what it will bring. Her mind and body are so busy, she can't fit everything into her day, so she Plans. Not content with settling on one career, she has decided she'll be a vet on Mondays, a chef on Tuesdays, a child care worker on Wednesdays, and a marine biologist on Thursdays. She'll take Fridays off and have a long weekend. Just as well, I think. She has already begun researching and listing all the places she wants to visit in this magical world we live in, excited about the people she'll meet and the adventures she'll have. She'll do it too - I can already picture her with her backpack stocked with traveller's journals, notepads, food portions and favourite toys. She'll get by with the clothes on her back - no room for a change of clothes! Only 10, she too is wise beyond her years, surprising me with the clarity with which she views the world. This Christmas Angel has a big heart, an active mind, and an unlimited imagination. I hope her spirited nature stays with her forever and survives the bumps and scratches of Life.
There are my three Angels. I hear you puzzling over my 'half' Angel. She's here too - we can't see her, but I know she is here, especially at Christmas. Sadly, we were denied the opportunity to meet her, losing her through miscarriage at 13 weeks between Number Two and Number Three. We never speak of her, and at the time, great pains were taken by friends and doctors to 'normalise' the tragedy by quoting statistics and the frequency of miscarriage, reducing my baby to a foetus in an effort to minimise the very real pain of loosing a child. Apparently, a foetus isn't a 'real baby'. But as any mother will tell you, whether it is a 'real baby' or a Dream Baby, the loss is very real. As with all losses, time really does help the healing process. Instead of thinking about my half Christmas Angel every minute of every day, eventually she crosses my mind a few times a day, then a few times a week. Soon, months pass. A blessing was sent when Number Three arrived, unspoken words of gratitude whispered silently to my Angel for ensuring her safe arrival. Life hums with the busy-ness of a growing family, and thoughts of my Angel change from shadows of despair to the bright light of fresh hope. She is gone, but never forgotten. Especially at Christmas.
Merry Christmas, my beautiful Angels.
Much love,
Da Mumma
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