Navigating the Holidays by Kelly Griffin
ARTICLE BY KELLY GRIFFIN
The holidays can be a hard time to navigate for just about anybody. Family dynamics, a full calendar and countless trips to the store often threaten to rob us of the joy of the season. Even in our best years, we can find ourselves wavering between smiles and laughter and the never-ending to-do list. But what once was a tricky season to navigate can become downright daunting and overwhelming after experiencing the loss of a child.
Before our son, Reeves, died in July 2020, the holidays had always been my favorite time of the year. Cooler temperatures, hot chocolate, scented candles, puffy vests, extra family time and The Pioneer Woman’s chili are some of the things I looked forward to the most. With 3 living children, I often felt giddy planning all of the fun Christmas activities for them. For years, we had so much fun looking at Christmas lights, watching reenactments of the Christmas Story, making cookies, buying and decorating our Christmas tree, reading through our advent devotionals, making a birthday cake for Jesus and so many other fun treats throughout the weeks leading up to Christmas. And then there was Christmas morning. The Super Bowl for parents. I would stay up late wrapping presents, hardly able to even sleep because I was so excited to see the wonder and awe in my children’s eyes the next morning as they ran into our living room to see their gifts under the tree. I was in my mid 30’s before I became a mom and the joy that I experienced each year watching my children enjoy this season was every bit as wonderful as I had hoped it would be all those years as I waited for “my turn.”
But the Christmas season after losing Reeves was different. It was impossible for it not to be. The season that I had so blissfully danced through for several years was now scarred. We were still hurting and grieving and the holidays heaped another layer of sadness onto our weary hearts. What was once a season filled with only happy memories was now bittersweet. There were so many things to think through now. Things I never could have imagined having to entertain. Like stockings. I agonized for weeks over whether or not to get Reeves a stocking. There didn’t seem to be a good answer. How will I feel on Christmas morning when his stocking is empty? Will it feel like we aren’t acknowledging him if we don’t have one at all? And then there are the ornaments. Every year, I had gotten a new personalized family ornament. Through the years, we had had the pregnant snowmom, the family with 1, then 2, then 3 kids. We had even announced one of our pregnancies with an ornament. But now what? They don’t make a snow family ornament featuring 3 living children and 1 in heaven. Everything just felt so upside down and every decision was a sharp reminder that Reeves was gone and we would no longer have a 6 month old on Christmas morning trying to eat wrapping paper like we once thought we would. There was no way around it – the first Christmas season after loss was just plain hard.
After a few weeks of sitting in my pain and sadness, I made a choice. A choice to not let my pain completely overshadow the hope of what Christmas Day brings. Because despite all of the fun, gifts and family traditions, Christmas really is only about one person, Jesus. HE is the reason that I have hope and believe I will see Reeves again one day. And that is something to be celebrated. Jesus’ life is worth it.
This perspective shift didn’t make things easy, but it gave me the strength to press on. We ultimately did decide to get Reeves a stocking and I’m so glad we did. That may not be the right choice for everyone, but it was for us. And instead of seeing it empty on Christmas morning, I filled it with gifts for my other children. Other friends of mine have filled their child’s stocking with notes that loved ones have written them or acts of services that they want to carry out over the next year. We also gave our children a couple of gifts from Reeves. It filled my heart to watch them opening gifts “from” their little brother. One of them was a soft teddy bear that contained a recorder with Reeves’ heartbeat on it so they could listen to his heart anytime they wanted.
I decided to not make a family ornament but rather focused on finding some ornaments that reminded us of Reeves or had his name on them. It was sweet to see our tree filled with his presence. His pictures, his name, his life verse…each ornament had its own special purpose and place. We decided to include all of these ornaments on our big family tree but other friends have gotten a second, smaller tree dedicated only to their nonliving child, filled with cherished ornaments and mementos.
Something that is important to us as we move forward year after year is to donate to a specific organization or cause in Reeves’ name or to serve someone through acts of kindness. This is a beautiful way to allow our child’s legacy to live on. Every child is created with a purpose and serving others is a gift we can give to reflect the gift that our children are to us. A friend whose child died in November facilitated a toy drive for a local hospital in her son’s name. Others have brought food and treats to local law enforcement and firefighters who work tirelessly on holidays so that the rest of us can safely spend time with our families. Serving at a food bank or local soup kitchen is another idea. The list of ways to love others in honor of our precious children is endless. And all of these provide yet another way to share our children’s life stories.
Last year, when we were only a few months into grief, I asked a fellow loss mom how we should go about the holidays and what the best way to honor our son was. I distinctly remember her answer: “You’ll have to figure out what works best for you and your family and what is important to you.” If I’m honest, I really disliked that answer. The previous 9 months had been filled with making excruciatingly difficult decisions about what was “best” and navigating very choppy, pain filled waters. I was mentally tired and just wanted someone, anyone, to tell me how to lessen the pain and make the holidays more bearable. But that friend was right. There really is no one way to do things and as we gingerly tiptoed our way through the holiday season, we found that we were able to create special memories and begin new traditions that captured our love for Reeves as well as our other children. As one who deeply values traditions, I’ve also learned that it’s ok if things change year to year as well. Just like grief ebbs and flows, so can the manner in which we honor our sweet babes throughout the holidays. It is true that our lives will never be the same as we long for our loved ones that are not physically present, but the holidays can still be a time of joy, gratitude and hope because the One whose birthday we celebrate at Christmas has made a way for us to experience all of these things and more.
MEET KELLY
In November 2019, we were ecstatic to find out that we were pregnant with our 4th child. However, it started rocky with low progesterone, followed by the appearance of choroid plexus cyst at our anatomy scan. At a follow up sono, they also found a heart defect and less than 2 weeks later, our world was shattered by a Trisomy 18 diagnosis at 25 weeks. We began weekly doctor visits to our MFM and on July 2, we delivered our precious boy, Reeves Joshua Griffin, via an unplanned c section. While we had been told we may have just a few short hours with Reeves, the Lord blessed us with 2.5 amazing days with him. Reeves met his Creator the morning of July 5 and the best day of his life became the worst one of mine. Since that time, our family has been grieving and healing as we rely on the Lord for all of our needs. He was so present and faithful during our pregnancy and Reeves' short life and continues to draw near as we navigate life without our precious son.
Much more of our story is documented in the blog I kept. We share of God's faithfulness to us in the darkest season of our lives.
