It was to be a different Christmas. Daughter, Mary, was 34 weeks into her pregnancy. She had made it known that she and Andrew would be staying home in Utica, New York and that any family gathering would have to happen at their place. They were in no mood to venture far from the doctor or hospital.
I was in no mood to stage our traditional Christmas gathering either. This was my second Christmas since Terry's death and as we entered Advent I could tell that I had no heart for decorating or planning a big event. Last Christmas was just six weeks after Terry's passing. Last year I embraced the holiday through a haze of shock. Last year's Christmas gathering was a defiant snub at an unwelcomed reality. This year reality reasserted itself. This year I learned that my heart would have to embrace a new understanding of Christmas.
I arrived at Mary and Andrew's home on December 23. On December 24 I accompanied Mary and Andrew to a routine doctor appointment. My video camera rolled constantly but modestly through the exam. The doctor affirmed that all was well and that he would see Mary again in three days. "We are getting close." he said. "But, you still have two or three weeks to go." I imagined how much fun it would be to edit the video into a record of this experience. It was good to have this new focus to the holiday. That evening I accompanied Mary and Andrew to Christmas Eve service.
Christmas day was quiet and very pleasant. Andrew's parents were with us. We all talked with anticipation about baby Theo's coming in mid January. The next day Mary rested at home while Andrew took his father and me to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. On Thursday Utica was hit with a major snow storm. Andrew and I spent most of the day digging out and joking that Mary was using her pregnancy as an excuse to avoid shoveling snow. On Thursday Andrew's parents left for home. That evening I took Mary and Andrew to dinner and then we went to see Les Miserable. I planned to leave for Michigan on Friday morning.
I was deep asleep when Mary knocked on my door at 2:00 am. "Dad. My water just broke. We have to go to the hospital. Theo is on his way." At 3:45 on Friday afternoon Theo Glenn Gladstone-Highland was born. It was my distinct priviledge to be with Mary and Andrew. They had named me as a second attendee to the birth. My holiday funk could not withstand the unspeakable joy of being present at the birth of my first grandchild.
I was wrong. I did not need to embrace a new understanding of Christmas. What I really needed was to reopen my heart to a very old understanding of Christmas. "Love was born at Christmas. Love all lovely. Love divine. Love was born at Christmas. Star and angel gave the sign."