Sometimes Christmas Day isn’t shiny and sparkly.
Sometimes it doesn’t go as planned but it can still be bright. It’s who you’re with that matters…
Christmas Day 2006 was a quiet, understated time for us as a family.
We had a real Christmas tree in the corner of one of our rooms (I cannot remember which one). It stood there in its natural glory without any of the glitter and glitz I would normally have thrown all over it. Underneath it was a little pile of hastily wrapped up presents for my 3 gorgeous girls. In the hallway were a couple of unpacked suitcases and a pile of unopened cards.
I spent Christmas Eve alone wrapping up the few presents we had managed to pull together. I was exhausted but it was wonderful to be home!
We had arrived home, almost a complete family, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve. I had travelled down on the train from London with my eldest (16 months old) and one of her 9 week old twin sisters. Mr Dad was travelling down with our other 9 week old twin daughter … they were being transferred back to our local hospital by ambulance. The last few days had been tough!
On Tuesday 19th December 2006, I handed one of my tiny babies to a stranger I’d only met a few hours earlier. The events leading up to this point are another story for another day.
That stranger was a children’s heart surgeon. He was now responsible for whether my beautiful little girl lived or died. At 9 weeks old she was about to under go open heart surgery to close a couple of holes in her heart.
She survived (although this was just the start of her journey). And on Christmas Day 2006 Mr Dad arrived home with our missing bundle.
Our Christmas dinner was a simple affair. A few things out of the freezer, a couple of crackers and some Christmas music.
Most importantly we had us … all five of us!
It was, and remains, one of the best Christmases ever.