I look up, over my vegetable beef
soup, and see her smiling at me as she tells me another story. She lets out a laugh and I laugh too. I love to listen to her laughter. It is a noise that has brought me pure joy
since the first slobbery smile and coo she was able to let out. I go on eating my soup and talking with her
and her dad when she says, “Mom do you believe in Santa?” I pause and think a moment. Obviously she is asking me this because she
has some doubts. I reply, “I believe in
the magic of Christmas.” Yes I know this
is a copout, but I guess I just cant come out and say that Santa isn’t
real. I’m not really sure why I cant
exactly. Santa Clause isn’t that big of
a deal, right?
I look away into the soft light of
the Christmas tree and think back to the day James and I met. I see him smiling at me as I walk down the
isle to become his wife. I see him nervously standing outside the bathroom door
as I pee on the 6th pregnancy test; all laying on the counter with a
faint pink line, I see his face full of love and amazement as he holds our tiny
bundle of love in his huge hands gently stroking her tiny cheek and speaking
words of love so softly to her. I recall
him struggling to stand up the gigantic Christmas tree I insisted on having
Hannah’s first Christmas. After we got
it wedged under our ceiling I placed her under it and took a picture with her
huge smile; all gums with two brand new teeth jutting up proudly from the
bottom of her tiny slobber covered mouth.
The memories of the past nine Christmas eves flood my mind. Staying up late with James as we waited for a
very excited little girl to finally pass out, then jumping into action with
laughter and excitement as we predicted how excited she would be for the gifts
to be found under the tree. I feel the
bounce of a messy haired, rosy-cheeked little girl, as she excitedly wakes up to
see what Santa has left her.
I hear my name and am brought back
to the conversation. She has moved on to James and posed her question of belief
to him. He responds a plain “Yes” not
yet wanting to let Santa go either. But
what I have realized as I watch him try to answer her is that it is not Santa
that is the big deal…it is the fact that this life, the unbelievably wonderful
life we stumbled upon 15 years ago, is speeding by so very fast. Both of us want to hold on to this amazing
life, just as it is, for as long as we can.
However, we both realistically know that it can’t. We can’t stop time. So, I clear my throat and I ask her straight
on, “Hannah, what do you believe?” She
smiles a sad smile and whispers back, “Mom I believe in the magic of Christmas,
but I don’t believe in the old man that drives a sleigh.” I take a deep breath and I tell her, “The
magic of Christmas is something that Mommies and Daddies create for their
babies. Daddy and I created this for you
too. We loved how much joy it brought
you.” She smiles and says, “I know it
makes you happy and it makes me happy too, so you can keep moving Charlie (her
elf) and leaving my gifts under the tree.”
I look at her and love her even more than I thought was possible as I
realize she wants to keep these things that make her happy, but she also wants
me to keep these traditions that she knows make me so happy too.
I thankfully realize that I need
Christmas tree hooks and excuse myself to Fred’s. I put on my coat and push the front door
open. I feel the cold air hit my face
and the hot tears begin to stream down my cheeks. Why does it all have to go by so fast? I vividly recall her being a baby so
helpless. Sometimes the weight of the
job of being a mother during the infant/toddler years weighed heavy and I often
thought I would never have another moment to myself. I would feed, burp, change diapers, call in
to work yet again with another ear infection, walk and bounce her endlessly
through the night as she screamed with an upset tummy. In those moments I would mother her and simultaneously
wish for a time when it would be easier.
Now as time begins to speed by and she pulls away from me more and more
I find myself wishing for the moments when I was feeding my hungry little baby,
skin to skin, just me and her in silence in the middle of the night. I can feel her chubby little hand reach up
and grab my lips; her big blue eyes looking into mine, never stopping greedily
suckling. She was so close to me, so
content with just me as her eyes grew heavy and her sucking grew weak. I would watch her drift off and very
carefully put her to bed praying for enough sleep to function the next day at
work. Snarling at the irony that
breastfeeding made me sleepy too. If
only I knew how fast it would all go, would I have been less hurried to rock
her to sleep? Would I have not silently
wished for more rest? Would I have
slowed down when I dropped her off a day care in a rush to get to work on
time? Tonight I am going to say I would
have definitely slowed down a little bit.
I try now to slow down too. I try
to capture all the moments I can on camera, and share them on Facebook
too. I try to hold on to the magic of
each Christmas for I know that even the Christmases we celebrate under one roof
will end too soon, as she continues to grow so fast, and will soon start a life
away from me and our home. My heart aches a little at
this thought, but it also swells with pride at the beautiful young woman she is
becoming. So I guess I will continue to
treasure memories and look forward to all that is to come as I watch her grow
into all the plans God has for her. I know without a doubt they are plans for her
to prosper. Jeremiah 29:11
