Christmas was the last thing on our minds as I battled through the preceding 7 weeks of hospital bed rest to save Danielle following some sudden complications in my pregnancy. We got to enjoy the victory of her safe delivery but our joy was short-lived as she passed away in my arms 3 days later. This tragedy struck us within 10 months of us moving to Australia.
Amidst the chaotic haze of emotions that followed Danielle’s passing we realised we had to get it together for our then 4yr old daughter Shannon. My husband and my parents (who had flown in from overseas to be with us) went out and bought a Christmas tree, new clothes and presents for Shannon. We did our best to make the day as happy and normal as we could although we knew that even our best at that point would be far below average. Nevertheless, we let Shannon decorate the tree as she pleased. We went to church that morning. We cooked a special breakfast. We had my cousin’s family over for lunch. My cousin, a Salsa buff, turned up the music and danced with his wife. I remember Shannon being spell-bound by their effortless grace. Shannon played and opened presents along with my cousin’s son. We hung out and generally compelled ourselves into a Christmas celebration.
If you look at this picture, all you will see is a proud set of Grand-parents and a smiling 4yr old. This is also what Shannon will see when she looks at this picture years later. She will not see me behind the camera – swollen from 7 weeks of all manner of heavy medication, puffy eyed from incessant crying and partially doubled up from the lingering pain of an emergency C-section. She will never know that 2 days before this, while she was at pre-school, her parents buried her sister and a part of themselves along with her. She will never know that her parents were questioning their desire to live, let alone Christmas. She will never know that in church that morning, her parents were hanging onto their faith by a very fine thread. She will never know that while we remembered to buy her presents, we also had to take flowers to the cemetery that morning. She will never know that my heart was bleeding out into my chest as I took this picture. Nor will she ever know the desolation in her father’s heart as he dragged himself shopping to prepare a celebration. She will simply remember Christmas that year as being like all of her other Christmas’ before and since. She will look at this picture and smile at her baby face. She will roll her eyes at her frilly socks and embroidered red dress. She will remember her shiny red shoes, the Christmas tree, her presents, the fact that her Grand-parents flew across the miles to be with her. She will, hopefully, remember the impeccable Salsa performance by my cousins! She will remember that she felt special. And I will always remember how the contagious joy of a 4yr old put a smile on our faces even through the tears.
Sometimes in life we face situations that are so hopeless and overwhelming that it seems wasteful to even try and make them better. Stumbling upon this picture reminded me that even the tiniest bit of effort on our part goes a long way in life’s bigger scheme. This is a welcome reminder for anyone – especially for a parent who constantly strives to achieve the ideal but invariably falls short in the face of life’s plentiful demands and finicky ways.
Making an effort even as we nurse our own brokenness, failure and fear is always a beautiful thing. This kind of effort has a ripple effect – it touches those around us and though we may not see it at the time, it sets healing into motion within ourselves. There is power in our ability to drag ourselves to our feet and simply give life our best shot – whatever that may look like on some days. I hope that this short story will inspire you to never give up. After all, Baby steps are always better than no steps at all!
– Melissa Domingo
25 April, 2017