Like with many families, Christmas has always been a big deal in my family.
My mom used to always call me her “Christmas baby.” I wasn’t born on Christmas Day, but according to her, if the doctors had just “left me alone,” then I would’ve been.
My due date was November 30, 1986. After an induction on December 17th and three days of labor, I (finally) arrived just after midnight on December 20th.
So when Christmas arrived that year, I was five days old. My mom and dad, who were first-time parents, thought I would be ecstatic when it came time to open gifts. I wasn’t. They wanted the day to be memorable so they cooked a spectacular Christmas Day brunch. Like most newborns, I slept the majority of the day. Actually, much to their disappointment, I slept the entire day.
When retelling this story, they’d always poke fun at themselves for thinking a 5-day old baby would have any interest in what was going on. But as first-time parents, they didn’t know what to expect. Regardless, not only was the day was forever ingrained in their memories, they probably recounted this day no fewer than 100 times, always with huge smiles on their faces.
Growing up, Christmas was always by far the best day of the year. It was a time where we could all come together, no matter what else was going on, gather around the fireplace, open gifts, and tell family stories. Now that I'm a parent myself, I hope to carry on this ritual so that Christmas really is the most wonderful time of the year for our children and create new family traditions that can be passed down from generation to generation.
That’s the beauty of Christmas. It’s the time of the year when families come together, create forever memories, build bonds, and show love for one another.