I have a hard time this time of year. Its not because its winter. or because its the holidays. 9 years ago I was pregnant with my second child. In November we went for our usual level II sonogram to check the growth and health of the baby, and it was then that we learned that out precious baby girl had so very many different birth defects. We were given terms like “incompatible with life”  and “critical anomalies”. Our son was only 9 months old, and it was his 1st Christmas. Our world was spiraling. Here we were debating the fate of our unborn child, as the doctors pushed termination, and still needing to celebrate baby’s first Christmas.

I was in Harrows, a pool store by summer and a Christmas store by winter, walking the aisles  in search of decor and a tree to make  my home festive for my 9 month old son. Christmas music was blaring, and my heart was breaking. I called my mom on my cell phone and I fell to pieces. “Mommy, I need you. I need you to be here. I need you to help me. I can’t do this. I can’t. I just can’t find joy.” In the middle of trees and lights, I had the saddest breakdown and I simply needed my mommy.

Fast forward to today. Its Christmas time, and I have 4 beautiful children. Kailey, that baby who was “incompatible with life” is 8 years old. She fights a good fight year after year, as does the rest of our family… because this is our life. But every time I walk through a store filled with Christmas trees, lights and Christmas music, I feel despair. Helplessness, a vast disjointed vacancy to joy. I fight to play Happy Holidays, even though I have everything to celebrate. This my friends is the misery that is post traumatic stress disorder.

The months and years after Kailey’s birth changed my relationships with friends and people in general. I have become more closed off and I have become more guarded. People have a difficult time knowing how to be a part of your life, when you can’t answer the question “But shes going to be alright now, right?” with the words they want to hear. It is not anybody’s fault. People want children to be healthy and happy. It is unnatural for a child to be sickly, for a child to have to face the possibility of death. And I can’t blame people for being uncomfortable or incapable of being a part of our every day, because it isn’t easy seeing a sick child go from being strong and happy one day, to hospitalized and weak the next.

And so, it is the season that I pull back from the people who are always present in my life. I don’t know if I’m giving them a chance to scoot away or if its just that I need this time to be alone. But this is what I do. I pull back, a lot! Year after year, I’m rewarded to find that the people I love the most are always waiting for me.

I haven’t written in a while. I have been attempting new ways of working through the PTSD. I have been reclaiming my home, putting the kid’s things in the kid’s rooms and making the living spaces liveable! I have been trying out new recipes in the kitchen, ones that work well with WLS and with children. I have been searching for ways to inspire myself, to be creative, to let my soul sooth itself. Surely healing has to come, eventually, doesn’t it?

I have to confess to Christmas cookie loving. A little too much. Damn the cookies! The cookies and the scale do not agree with each other. Mind you I don’t have hunger, but I do graze! I know it, I need to cut it the hell out! Letter to myself… dear Michelle… CUT IT THE FUCK OUT! Love Michelle.

My other confession is that I may or may not be a 36 year old Groupie. Yes, you heard me! If I had the funds to go to this: http://www.kreweofrocckus.com/eng/ I totally would be there. Meanwhile, I am looking forward to these guys playing (hopefully… in the ATL area) http://thesweetteaproject.com/, and I have attended 2 shows in the past two months where I have taken more photos with one man than I have with my own husband in the same time period. Thats all I’ll say on that matter. Music calms the savage beast. Music makes me dance. Great music, written by incredible artists, performed by people who are sincerely endearing… well… its the whole package and I’m hooked! I’m sorry to these guys, that their groupies are not hot 20 year old chicks but rather moms with carseats in their trucks. But what ever! LOL

I’ve broken all kinds of blogger rules here. This is all over the place, too many words, no real point, not a lot of  photos and probably won’t hold your interest. But here it is anyway. I needed to blog, it was a goal I set for myself and damn it… I did it! Love to you all. Thanks for hanging with me. It means everything!