Happy Holidays?

     So Christmas is over for 2013 and in just a few short days, we will be ringing in 2014.  2013 has been one heck of a year.  I got my first "real" job teaching first grade.  My husband went  back to college to major in Chemistry, and we got serious about starting to grow our family.  It's incredibly hard to believe that this year is already over.  Mostly because I thought this year would be "the one".

     Which brings me to today's discussion: the holidays.  If you're into any sort of social media (Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest) you know how big the holiday season is for announcing the arrival of a new bundle of joy.  I saw at least seven announcements on my own Facebook page.  The thing is, once you've been in a relationship or married for a while, people start to assume that your announcement is coming soon.  The hard part is when it isn't.

     Between mine and my husband's family, we have five Christmases.  That's five holiday gatherings in which people are constantly asking if you've got anything "special" to give for Christmas this year.  Five chances of feeling ashamed when you have to answer them "no" and look as if it's intentional.  Five events in which you watch the people you love the most wait in anticipation for an announcement you know you can't make.   Don't get me wrong.  I love that they have so much anticipation for a new bundle of joy, I just hate that I have to let them down year after year.

      Let me make this clear:  Christmas sucks.   When I was little, I couldn't wait to wake my older siblings and my parents and rush into the front room to open the oodles of presents that laid before me.  But this year when I awoke on Christmas, I didn't feel excitement.  I just felt hurt.  I listened to the toddler who lives in the apartment above race through the hallway. If I was quiet, I could hear his giggles when he ripped open a present.  I wanted to be happy.  But I couldn't.  So there I sat in my front room, alone (my husband was still sleeping), looking at my lit up Christmas tree with nothing underneath.  No pretty bows, no rocking horse, no play kitchen, no Little People playsets, no baby belly laughs.  It was empty.  And that's how I felt.  Empty.

     And that's when I decided.  This will be the last Christmas I allow myself to feel like this.  Next Christmas, I will be pregnant.  And by 2015, I will have my own happy little Christmas full of baby laughs and ripping paper.  2014 is going to be a year of answers for me.  It will also be a year of pain, heartbreak, and triumph.  I'm done wallowing.  It's my turn now.