When most people are looking forward to December and the holidays, I am dreading it. Beginning from my birthday until New Year’s Day I am very anxious and reliving the past. This is something I know I should not do but find it very difficult to overcome within the months of November and December.

Although December 1987 brought the birth of my first born child and was by far my most wonderful Christmas, the memories which accumulated in the years afterward were very traumatic and unpleasant.

On December 11, 1996 I lost my baby boy, Ricky, due to a miscarriage. I was devastated by this because, besides naturally being heartbreaking, it appeared to be a very healthy and normal pregnancy and I was shocked by it. I had previously lost my baby girl, Tina, due to a miscarriage but that came as no surprise to me. My second pregnancy which was with Tina was very difficult. Unlike with my first pregnancy, this one caused me a great of illness and fatigue. I just did not feel right and when Tina’s little heart stopped beating I was extremely saddened but not surprised. With Ricky I was not only heartbroken but truly shocked. That December was one I will never forget.

My oldest son, John, and I would celebrate both Christmas and his birthday together. He was living out of town when he became an adult but we always found the time to get together and celebrate the only good Christmas I had ever had, his birthday. In December of 2013, however, things were much different.

John had phoned to tell me that he could not come into town on his birthday and he would need to arrive about a week early and only spend a couple of days. He came to my home for a short visit on December 13 and told me that he was staying at his friends’ new apartment but the next day we would have lunch together.

Due to being chronically ill I could not go out to lunch on December 14, 2013 so John picked up lunch for us from Aladdin’s. We sat and talked all afternoon. This was the last time I ever saw my son in his physical body.

I am amazed and shocked that I have been pregnant four times and am down to only one child who is in the Physical Realm with me. This is my youngest child and son. He is my pride and joy and my only reason for arising in the morning.

My youngest son is 20 years old and is recently married to a wonderful young woman who I love as if she were my own daughter. Her birthday, being today (she turned 19), helps alleviate some of the pain which my oldest son’s birthday now causes me (his birthday was yesterday).