Tis the season

This Christmas will be the first time in years I won't be pregnant or have a newborn.
It seems strange to realize my childbearing days are done, and with the approach of the 33rd (*gasp*) birthday, bittersweet.
Last year at this time, we were without electricity in our house due to the mother of all ice storms. For 5 days, we kept warm using our gas stove and layering the boys up in have a dozen items of clothing.
I was a mammoth of pregnancy discomforts, sending The Man and I to the hospital at least once with nasty Braxton hicks contractions. We went for other baby related fun and games--Punk was a bit of an attention whore even in the womb. She loved to go see the nurses at the hospital and by the time we were there for the real deal, it was old news.
Last year was our first season of sorrow, brought on by the loss of Daddy the year before at Thanksgiving. The first Christmas we were both numb and fearful, trying to overcompensate for the loss and the absence of a loved one.
And my birthday is approaching, which is a dark day. I loathe my birthday. Growing older is not something I want to celebrate. On that auspicious day, all I want is a large Pepsi, a good book, and silence. Not so much to ask. But the concept evades The Man and the wee little heathens. They look for any excuse to celebrate and have cake. Seriously! They would celebrate the fourth Tuesday after Cousin Vinny played on TBS for the 80th time if they could.
So, although I want nothing more than to crawl into my bed and not move until next year, I will continue to pull on my big girl panties (granny style) and put one foot in front of the other. I will continue to smile at my children and snarl at my husband (why change a good thing now).
I, like Gloria Gaynor, will survive.
And next year will be better.
Next year, my family will keep all their body parts.
Next year, my season of sorrow will come and I will face it once more.
Next year, I will finally schedule my trip to some deserted mecca on my boirthday and not tell my family where I am going.
Next year.