Because my son is no longer excited about Christmas and just wants to play video games with his friends, I am thinking of all of the wonderful Christmases when he squealed with joy. His first Christmas he wasn’t really interested in his presents, but had lots of fun taking everything out of Grammie’s cupboards and spreading it all over the floor. The next year his favorite present was watching me hit myself in the face with his Thomas the Train tent as I assembled it. Jumping up and down he screamed “Again, Again!”
Each year there have been shrieks of joy which filled my heart. And, my gift for all of my hard work tracking down everything on his list were the magic words “This is the best Christmas Ever!” All of these wonderful memories echo in my head and fill my heart. This year my gift is treasuring the Ghosts of Christmas Past.
My worrying started as soon as I found out I was pregnant. I worried about him being born healthy and all of the complications. Then, I was overjoyed for a while after his birth, which was soon surpassed by my concerns about his allergies and asthma. Spending many sleepless night listening to him breath to make sure he was okay, I was filled with worry. Just when it seemed the allergies were under control, he started having problems in school. We spent most of our savings for testing to show the school his learning disabilities. After fighting for a year, we finally got them to test at school and he was approved for an IEP. Struggling to help him with school, I worked with him and the school. With many sleepless nights of worry for me, he is finally on track at school. I was horrified last night to notice that my laugh lines are slowing being replaced by worry lines. I’m trying to figure out: when do you stop worry?