One of my favorite Christmas songs has always been Oh Holy Night. I vividly remember singing this in a Christmas choir in high school and getting goosebumps during the first time we nailed that “Fall on your knees” crescendo. (Don’t be impressed. It’s literally the only musical term I know and I’m not even sure I’m using it right but it sounds good there. And I was only in choir because it was required at some point. I sing about as well as a turkey.)

Regardless, the song has always been one that brings my heart back to the calm of Christmas in the hustle & bustle of it all. This Christmas season, I’ve found myself humming it over and over. The line that has caught me on more than one occasion this time around is “A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”

Let me tell you guys something….I am weary this Christmas. I miss my boy, I don’t understand why God allowed this to happen, and I’m absolutely exhausted from it all. I wish I could say I’ve somehow valiantly risen above grief and that nothing triggers me anymore but the truth is I cry way more often than I’d ever want anyone to know, I’ve started having nightmares where I relive Ollie’s birth and losing him over and over on repeat and sometimes all I want is to hold a baby, ANY baby, just in hopes that my arms won’t feel so incredibly empty for a bit.

The marriage therapist Andrew & I are going to help us walk this path together asked me something at our last session that has helped me reframe all the pain a bit. I was complaining (go figure) about how much I wish the part where it hurts this bad would just be over. He paused and asked me “Well, was he worth it?” and, without a hesitation, my answer was yes.

I would go through the heartbreaking ultrasound where we found out he was gone just to have him in my belly again. I would go through labor and birth his still body again just to be able to see him one more time. I would cry every tear ten million times over just to hold him for five more minutes. I would do every single second of this horrible journey again just for him. And so I keep moving forward. Because grief is the price I’m willing to pay if it means I had five and a half beautiful months of knowing him.

“…a thrill of hope…”

Even if Christmas has been hard to handle right along side grief, I truly believe it would be harder without it. That thrill of hope… I cling so desperately to it at times. Christmas is the reminder that there is hope in the midst of our grief. It’s the beginning of the story that reminds me I’ll see my boy again one day. So while Christmas is bittersweet now, it’s also more hope filled that it has been for me in the past. This year, I am part of that weary world that is rejoicing over Christ’s birth. I sing a hallelujah because His birth means my salvation. His birth means hope.

So this Christmas, if you see me smiling with tears in my eyes, take it for what it is….A weary momma all in her feels rejoicing that this hard season means she’ll hold her baby boy again one day.