When It's Hard to Celebrate the Holidays
Lessons from a Very Hospital Thanksgiving
It seems like yesterday and a thousand years ago all at the same time:
Thanksgiving 2011 looked, felt, and tasted very different from celebrations before or since.
That year, Thanksgiving Day began with Morphine for pain, Ativan for anxiety, and Zofran for nausea. My body was still ravaged from our son's traumatic birth weeks earlier, and we were adjusting to the realities of my new diagnosis, Vascular EDS.
I was the patient, not the baby. Thank you, Lord.
At 8 a.m. out-of-state family arrived at the hospital to meet our little guy. They brought Baby Reed to my room from the hospital nursery, where they were growing quite fond of him. He was three weeks old - healthy and much bigger than all the other babies in the newborn nursery.
Hospitals are a strange thing on holidays - though fully staffed, they seem quieter. We watched my vitals all day long. Doctors were extra concerned about my nausea and violent dry heaves coupled with the fragile state of my already-broken intestines and the pressure it could cause the growing aneurysm on my neck.
My anti-nausea meds were increased. Thank you, Lord.
Mid-day didn’t include a turkey dinner with all the fixings, but a painful dressing change on my abdomen, my skin inflamed with irritation from bile leaking through a hole in the stomach wall. My nurse along with my husband, Steve, removed the soaked dressing and medical tape as cautiously as they could. Steve was training to be my caregiver at home, though my release wouldn’t come for two more weeks. Two more dressing changes came before Thanksgiving Day turned to Black Friday.
I endured the pain with the help of my pain pump. Thank you, Lord.
Doctors denied my request to take out the NG tube from my nose that went down my throat - I’m convinced those things are a tool of Satan, though I know they must serve some kind of medical purpose. I loathed it - how it looked, how it felt, the intrusion it caused when I was holding my newborn.
Baby Reed was meeting his paternal grandma, uncle, and aunt for the first time. Thrilled to meet him, he was held and cuddled almost constantly. It's fair to say our sweet baby was spoiled during his first few months of life.
People loved on my newborn when I was too weak and feeling less than maternal. Thank you, Lord.
We took a walk as a whole family around the hospital unit - the most I could manage at the time. There was no Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade with giant floats, but the six of us looking like a strange procession with an unstable, scared new mom in her hospital-issued slipper socks, a rolling baby crib, IV poles, and a crowd of family members cheering me on.
My wobbly hospital hallway parade was fueled by prayer and persistence. Thank you, Lord.
The obligatory first Thanksgiving pictures weren’t Christmas card-worthy. My “hospital couture” was further marred by the unsightly NG tube and my messed-up bilirubin levels causing the orange-tinted jaundiced skin and eyes. (Any level above 1.2 is high - mine was at 10!) Nope, definitely not one for our holiday cards, but we captured that first holiday as a family of three anyway.
With tired smiles in our first Thanksgiving photos, at least we were together. Thank you, Lord.
Thanksgiving dinner was delivered courtesy of our church and loved ones who cooked it. But not for me - my dinner was delivered through my IV, tasteless Total Parenteral Nutrition (TPN) that was keeping me alive. Grateful, my family enjoyed their dinner in the waiting room, where I relegated them because the nausea from smells was too much to bear. I’m sure they appreciated the break while our “framily” stayed in my room to keep me company. I was rarely alone, preferring the constant safety and comfort of people around me.
Company and waiting-room-turkey-dinner (or TPN) is better than no dinner at all. Thank you, Lord.
As I reflect on that Thanksgiving 13 years later, I’m looking at Steve’s detailed notes in tears, wondering if we’d have the strength to do it again, wondering how we survived it the first time.
But we survived. Thank you, Jesus.
If your Thanksgiving looks differently than you planned, hoped, or expected, remember this:
God’s presence is with you. God's goodness has not left you.
If there’s an empty seat next to you, if you cannot bear to gather around a table, if tears are always at the surface, there is grace.
There is no quick fix to your pain, but there is an ever-present God who can provide refuge. A taste of God’s goodness can satisfy in times of leanness.
At the heart of your fears might lie this question: "Is God really good?" My prayer for you is to be able to eek out the tiniest sacrifice of praise to the God who hears you.
In this hard holiday season, may you taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34:8).
4 Ways to Celebrate When Holidays are Hard
Embrace and acknowledge the reality of present difficulties. Lament, pour out your heart to God, be honest with those close to you, cry, and admit you wish things were different. Denying present realities and holding on to the past can breed bitterness. Naming any type of loss "grief" aids healing and hope. O Lord, God of my salvation, I cry out day and night before you. For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. Psalm 88:1,3
Be willing to let go of old traditions and make new ones for this season. Even if you return to favorite traditions in the future, embrace small tokens of celebration today. Watch a favorite holiday movie, create a "thankful board" by your bedside, or simply reminisce on treasured holiday memories. That same year (2011) as my health troubles continued, a friend put up a tiny Christmas tree in our house, a beacon of hope I didn't know we needed.
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD. Psalm 40:3
Express gratitude to your helpers and God. It's easy to unload sadness, frustrations, and fears on those around us, whether it's family, nurses, doctors, or caregivers. Honest grief is healthy, of course, but sharing specific "thank yous" (verbally or in writing) with those who are in the trenches with us lifts our spirit and theirs. They are hurting, too, and your gratitude may crack open a spirit of thankfulness.
I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. Psalm 9:1
Fight the spiritual battles in your heart and mind. You may feel numb, paralyzed, or overwhelmed. While it's true you can't do everything this difficult holiday season, you can do something: fight the spiritual battles that inevitably come alongside the physical ones. Resolve to choose courage and fight for joy. Focus on God's character. Express gratitude to God for his presence and provisions. You can approach God's throne of grace with confidence for the mercy and grace you need (Hebrews 4:16).
You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Isaiah 26:3
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