Christmas was really nice this year.  The holiday itself fell on a Sunday and when this happens, my work has to give us Monday off, creating a three day weekend. Last year, Christmas fell on a Saturday, so in essence we didn’t get any day off for Christmas (or New Year’s Day for that matter), other than the usual weekend. Needless to say, I enjoyed this year’s holiday weekend over last year’s.

More significantly than the day on which the holiday fell, was the inclusion of a new family member: my daughter, Ella.  She’s only a little over four months now and it’s doubtful if she’ll remember into her adulthood anything that occurred this year, so it’s questionable whether our celebrations were for her or for Maggie and me. We dressed her in a Christmas outfit, took photos, and mailed out the best one for our Christmas card.  It actually came down to a choice between two photos, but we picked the one with her head cocked to the side a bit, looking somewhere between exuberant and mischievous.  Another day, we dressed her in another outfit, and took her to see Santa Claus down at the town hall and took even more pictures.  Christmas Eve, we dressed her in yet another outfit, and took her to two parties, one for each side of the family, and took yet more pictures and even video footage.  If in years from now, she becomes a fashion model, I’ll have to think the wardrobe changes and flash bulbs from this Christmas alone would have played a great part.

After all the rushing around Christmas Eve, we spent a nice quiet day at home on Christmas Day.  Maggie’s brother, Eric, came for Christmas dinner, and Maggie cooked a delicious roast beef with all the trimmings.  It was a really nice day overall until evening arrived and Maggie had to dress for work.  She’s started working two overnight shifts a week at a local hospital, sometimes on weekends and sometimes on holidays.  This allowed us to eliminate day care for Ella without dropping the household income.  It’s been difficult for her to manage the nights without sleep, especially since her schedule doesn’t allow her body or mind to truly adjust to the changes.  I try to be positive and helpful.  I do odd jobs around the house to try to make things a little nicer for her when she gets home.  My sister, Brenda, has helped out by watching Ella in her home during particularly tough weeks.  But, the simple fact is that the new schedule is hard on my wife, and as a result, hard on us.  We’re learning to cope, and I’m learning how to be more understanding and give her a little more room.  I think the changes may turn out to be as good for us as we knew they’d be for Ella.

Christmas night, I put Ella down at her usual time, but I knew that her internal clock was a little off-kilter due to the schedule changes and activity of the previous week which reached a crescendo on Christmas Eve.  She had also been suffering under the effects of a cold.  She woke up about 9pm and was still pretty drowsy while I fed her, slipping in and out of sleep, each time looking a little surprised or confused as to where she was.  I tried putting her back down to sleep, but an occasional cough kept waking her until she was fully awake and alert.

I’m usually the one to advocate the importance of self-reliance and discipline, but there aren’t many reasons to stress either with a four month old, especially on Christmas, when her mother isn’t home.  So, I dropped my role as the disciplinarian and took on the role of the nurturer.  I stood over her crib, and gently rubbed the top of her head, the back and sides, around her ears, and traced her face with my fingers.  She stopped crying, her arms stilled, and her breathing slowed and became less forced.  I don’t know how long I stood over the crib, but eventually my back to ache, so I squatted by the side for as long as I could.  When my legs began to tire, I pulled over the ottoman from the glider and sat by the side of the crib, continuing to caress my daughter’s head.  She looked as peaceful as I had ever seen her, perfectly still, with a slight hint of a smile on her lips.  Eventually, the power of the situation overwhelmed me and I began to weep.  I cried because I loved my daughter.  I cried because I loved and missed my wife.  I cried because I loved and missed my mother.  And I cried because I finally “got it.” I felt the unbreakable bond between us as surely as I felt the soft skin beneath my fingers.  She’s no longer just my daughter, but I’m also her father.  I can’t describe it any other way.

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”
Helen Keller