The Last Christmas Without You

Scanner in hand, I examined the sheets, crib pads, and receiving blankets, shooting a red laser across the tags of the ones I liked. We're doing the nursery in an African safari theme, incorporating masks and carved animals my husband got in Africa during his six-month stay there. We've (mostly) painted the walls, and the crib is on its way.

We're preparing for the advent of our child.

I think of Mary, and her preparations for the baby Christ. She didn't pick out themes or wall colors. She didn't put together a crib or decide what kind of diapers to use.

Yesterday, I looked at Chris and said, "Just over 10 weeks."

His eyebrows met his hairline. "Seriously?" He listed the things we have yet to do, the classes we have yet to take. "We're not ready," he said.

I told him I decided that labor isn't for me. He has 10 weeks to figure out another way, besides a C-section, to get this baby out of me.

I think of Mary, her belly heavy and aching, leaning over the head of the donkey as it carried her to Bethlehem. She didn't have a reservation at a hotel or family waiting up late to welcome her in. Gripped by contractions, she and Joseph stopped at house after house, seeking the hospitality commanded in the Law.

"My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior," she said. "From now on all generations will call me blessed."

Today, while chopping onions, I realized that not only will I take on a new role, but this role will shove other things aside. I will be a writer, yes, but I will be a mother before that. And for the time being, I will no longer be a piano and flute teacher. My daydreams traipsing around other worlds with my character friends will be interrupted by a hungry baby. I rejoice in this, and I lament a passing, too.

Who was this woman--this child, really--who so readily accepted God's blessing and burden? Who took on motherhood and its accompanying joys, sufferings, and, in this case, shame? Who set aside her own dreams and desires so that God's word might be fulfilled?

I think of Mary, grinning over the kicks and punches and antics in her belly, anxious to meet this baby, struggling to temper her hormones-gone-awry, logging the days until her life would turn around. I think of Mary, considering the advent of her child.

And now, all creation joins Mary, groaning as if in labor, anxiously awaiting the second advent of her son.

Heather A. Goodman spends hours amused by the dance moves in her tummy. She's thankful that she doesn't have to ride a donkey any time soon.

Comments

[Laura M]

Peter was a baby during Christmas time and it was glorious. I did feel a kinship with Mary and with every other mother in the world.

[Jeanne Damoff]

Love this post, Heather! I can't express how excited I am for you. The biggest adventure of your life is beginning -- the story of an eternal soul stepping onto a temporary stage, a story already written on the heart of God, and you and Chris have front row seats. Breathtaking. Frightening. Glorious.

Enjoy the dance.

Much love and joy,
Jeanne

[Momma Mindy]

I don't remember the translation I was reading, but one Bible said Mary was "heavy with child." King James says, "great with child." I'm sure you feel "heavy" and "great" but I can also imagine you look beautiful. There is nothing more wonderful than a woman bringing another soul into the world that will be raised to know the Savior.

To help me through my six natural births, I always asked the Lord for a verse to strengthen and encourage me, and He always blessed me with his Words and His presence. May you feel His presence and His assurance during the birth of your precious child!

[Heather]

Mindy--it's funny that you refer to the translation "heavy with child." I especially feel heavy with child when I go for my walks. By the end of the walk, I feel like my belly's going to sag to my ankles. I can't imagine Mary's journey!

Thanks, all, for the encouragement.

[Sarah Winfrey]

I listened to that song over and over last Christmas, with tears I didn't understand in my eyes. In fact, I still cry when I listen to it (I just checked!), even though my small one is here with us this Christmas. This is a special Christmas for you - may you soak in every single moment of it!

[Madison Richards]

Heather,

You will know countless joys and even more countless moments of worry, frustration, elation, even tears. But they all intermingle and weave a story that is priceless...your story. You will tell it well, don't worry...

P.S. Labor sucks but we all have to work to get paid, and this particular payoff will make you the richest woman in the world ;) Just let it happen - your body knows what to do!

[kirsten]

I'm convinced within myself of what many before me have said (in one way or another): motherhood is the best, toughest, and most life-changing occupation a person can have. No one can turn your heart inside out like your own child can. I bet Mary learned that, too.

Happy Advent!

[Nicole]

Well done, Heather. A baby. Life is change. You're what I call an "embrace-er". You'll find a way to rejoice through it all. To make it art and beauty.

My second son was born on December 23rd, and we were home on Christmas Eve. And up to my parents to celebrate Christmas.

It's impossible not to appreciate Mary in December births . . . even though.