Skip to main content

Rose's 12 Days of Christmas: A prairie family Christmas



As we get ready to welcome our first grandchild sometime in the coming weeks, I can't help think how wonderful it will be to have a Christmas season baby around the house.

My sons Nick and Stef bookended Christmas.

Nick was born November 27, 1985 and Stef brought up the rear as an Irish twin on January 12, 1987. They were 13 months apart.

Oh, my!

Both boys were born in the Pasqua Hospital in Regina in the dead of winter.

My mother flew in to help me learn the ropes of motherhood. I read voraciously but I hadn't changed a diaper since I was the bad and bored babysitter back in my teenage years. I didn't like diapers then, and I was certain I wouldn't like them when my own children were swaddled in smelly gauze.

I didn't know anything about kids. I was the youngest in my family and all the other kids were older.

I didn't know how to dress a circumsection -- yuck! -- nor did I have a clue about bathing a child or even how to put the kid down in the crib. My mom was an old hand at it, and she helped me greatly, and mended a few fences between us in the process.

My first Christmas with baby threatened to be one spent at the hospital surrounded by unfortunate drug addicted children. The Pasqua was Regina's second choice as a hospital. It was a Catholic place full of stern nurses and nuns, and it was the hospital where most of Regina's aboriginal community had their babies. About a third of the babies in the nursery were screaming through the pain of addiction.

How terrible for these babies. What kind of future did they have?

I hoped many of them would be adopted, but I feared that would not be the case.

I spent a lot of time in that nursery.

Nick was born with severe jaundice, the result of having a congential birth defect -- no thyroid gland -- and so I spent 10 days rocking in a chair beside him, worrying over the little man sporting sunglasses and a speedo sized diaper.

He was beautiful and sweet, sitting in the spotlight, with his tan skin getting even darker from the UV lights. I was terrified they would send me home without him.

Fortunately, a heel prick determined no thyroid hormone and he was put on pablum and a pill from the get-go. Not a great way to enter the world, but not a bad way, either. At least, the doctors could fix what he had with medication.

I was able to take him home just before Christmas and he seemed that much more precious because he was flawed. The jaundice made him sleepy, so our first Christmas on the prairies was quiet one.

By the time the next Christmas rolled around, Nick was going full bore, into all kinds of mischief. When I wasn't at the doctor for checkups on Stef, I was there with Nick sporting some kind of injury. The day before Stef was born, Nick cracked his head open by bringing the stereo speaker down on his head.

Our second prairie Christmas was a waiting game.

I was profoundly pregnant with Stef all through the holiday. I think it was the first time I'd drawn a complete sober breath during the holidays since I was 15. Haagen Daas ice cream and brownies became my comfort and joy, and these sugary concoctions were also the villain of the piece. I think I gained 50 pounds over the course of three years in Regina.

Mr. Big used to joke that I had to buy my bras at Regina Tent and Awning.

Ha ha.

I love baby Christmases. They inject new magic into our lives.

These were my very best Christmases, the Regina years.

And not just because they were baby Christmases.

Having spent most of my adult life in the myopic, self-centred world of Ottawa, it was wonderful to immerse myself in a flat and cold world where people were decent, friendly, and family-oriented.

People worked hard, played hard and were always home for supper.

Unlike Ottawa, nobody was too busy or too important to lend a hand.

I liked that.

Waiting for Wheels, getting ready for her to enter the world as Skylar, has helped me remember how important children are to Christmas celebration.

Like Nick and Stef, her place is ready.

She just needs to come down the chimney with St. Nick.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ashley Simpson: Don't Let Her Die in Vain

  Six years ago, I was combing through my Facebook and I saw post from my cousin Julie Major. Her brother and his wife were frantically looking for their daughter Ashley who just days before had Facetimed her mom saying she was planning to return to her home in Niagara. Ashley never made it home. She was murdered in cold blood in her home in Salmon Arm then buried in a nearby field. It would be five and a half years before her body was located, and her boyfriend was charged with second degree murder.  Today, Ashley's urn has a sacred spot in her parents' home, and Derek Favell is in jail awaiting trial by judge and jury. The trial is expected to go into next year sometime. This has been an agonizing journey for Ashley's friends and family. The pain has never stopped, and the wounds are broken open every time the family has to sit through a series of pre-trial proceedings. Fortunately, this ordeal will end but the pain will never wane for the people, including me, who have b...

Ashley Simpson: A Father Remembers

I have asked Ashley Simpson's family and friends to give us a glimpse into the life she lived before going missing nearly a month ago. Here is how her father John remembers his sweet girl. Ashley was a treat when she came into this world, a smashing 9lbs 8 ounces with a  head full of hair and nails that needed to be clipped. She has made many friends in her journey of life and continues to make them as we speak. She has made this world a better place by her love of mankind and this place we call Earth; unfortunately this life she has lived hasn't been the best for her. She has suffered through unbearable pain and suffering through her menstrual cycles. She has cysts on her ovaries that make those 10 days a living hell. She had one of her ovaries removed when she was just 14; the other they won't take out till she is 40 or older. Years of hell for my Ashley. I so feel her pain every month but she doesn't quit, doesn't give in.   That'...

What Bell isn't telling you about Fibe TV

Update: This week, we switched back to Rogers after spending far too long using Bell's crappy television service. For those with Bell, read and weep. For those considering Bell, think twice even if you hate Rogers. RS I've always been an early technology adapter. I had a Betamax. That tells you everything (if you're over 50 at least). My first computer was a "Portable". It weighed 40 pounds and I had to lug it around town on a gurney. I've been through probably 15 computers in my lifetime. Apple is the best. It's also too expensive so I have a piece of shit HP, the one I'm writing this blog on. I've had cable, internet and now Netflix. American Netflix . That's how far ahead of the curve I am. I get all the newspapers for free. How? I disabled my cookies so they can't track me when I'm on the newspaper sites. Even the New York Times hasn't cottoned on to that trick. Hahaha. That will be a fifty buck consulting fee. Bein...