December’s lack of hibernation

It seems that I won’t be hibernating for December. My hope to fall asleep on 30 November and wake up on 02 January hasn’t happened. I fell asleep last night and when I woke up this morning it was 01 December. Best keep trying I guess.

I’m trying to make myself feel better, but I honestly can’t recall a time when I haven’t looked forward to December and all it had to offer; the start of summer, my birthday being a week away and then Christmas shortly after. I’m not even putting up my Christmas tree this year. I think I’ll even be spending my birthday evening alone.

I went home a couple of weekends ago to visit mum and dad and see my sister and the kids. I got there and dad comments how it’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other. It had been awhile, about two months I think. I told him that it was a two-way road. He agreed, but said they never go that way. I again repeated it was a two-way road.

It’s frustrated me since. It is a bloody two-way road – you can travel in both directions at all times, not just to get me there and then come back. Coincidentally that was also the weekend before they were going away for a cruise. I asked when they were back, and mum told me it was 11 December, and I mentioned that it was after my birthday. Mum simply said yes, but we probably wouldn’t see you on your birthday anyway.

I love birthdays and celebrations, and while I don’t think we would have done anything on my birthday, it was just the delivery of the comment that they probably wouldn’t see me anyway. Thanks so much – glad to have some sort of an effort made.

Add to that and I’m told that our extended family Christmas actually won’t be held at mum and dad’s this year even though it’s their turn. My sisters aren’t talking to each other – yes, it’s extremely awkward and difficult for all of us. But to use that as a reason for not wanting to hold a family Christmas, make the decision and not discuss it with any of us and just spring of us that it’s near Aunty Pat’s this year, it’s all a bit much.

I just don’t have a lot to look forward to this December. I’m not asking for or seeking pity from anyone, I well and truly know there are worse out there than me and have much more substantial things to worry about. But this isn’t me. My Facebook memories are coming up each day, and it seems that every year I’m counting down the sleeps to my birthday, sharing pictures of my Christmas tree, enjoying the greatest month of them all. And this December, I’m not.

I feel I’ve gone backwards about my miscarriage. Babies and baby bumps are aching my insides again. It was so good to see Jules last weekend, but seeing her gorgeous little Jack, it killed me. I used to work with another Laura, and she announced her pregnancy around about when I should have. She just posted her 27-week bump picture; she looks stunning and I am immensely jealous. I want to be sharing baby bump pics, buying baby items and having things under the Christmas tree for the little human growing inside me.

Writing the letter to my baby helped me; I felt some sense of closure. Not acceptance, but closure and limited understanding, knowing that perhaps it was for the best. But coming into such a significant month, the wounds are reopening and the aches are coming back.

The idea of hibernating for December is still immensely appealing, but I also know it’s not a reality. Looks like I’ll just have to continue sucking it up and start some serious planning for my great escape.


Author: Laura

In my 30s, simply working my way or travelling my way through it.

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