A Boy, A Bear and a Bizarre Christmas

A&E. Christmas Day 2021. 

While we wait for the nurse to call Reuben’s name, it feels like we’re extras in a cheesy Christmas Hallmark movie. I’m on the lookout for a disillusioned, single, Christmas-loathing girl who will inevitably fall in love with a handsome doctor and fall in love with Christmas again while she’s at it. But since our wee family is having a covid-Christmas, it’s just us in our waiting room. This waiting room is designated for contagious people, I assume.

And I’m glad it’s just us. Reuben starts to shiver and I ask if he wants me to get a blanket from the car. Swinging his slipper-clad feet, he’s wearing his Christmas pyjamas under his dressing gown and I remember how cosy he looked last night drinking hot chocolate in the glow of the tree. Only now, in this grey sterile environment, I notice how thin his supposedly ‘winter’ pyjamas really are.

“I’m not cold. I’m just nervous,” he confesses, flashing me a vulnerable glance of his shiny blue eyes. “Have I ruined everyone’s Christmas Day?” 

I passionately reassure him, scooping him up in my arms, only to adjust myself and notice for the second time today that his body doesn’t quite slot into mine as easily as it used to. He’s getting so big. 

We cuddle and chat about our twenty-three year old bear, Julie and all of the nerve-racking adventures she’s been on over the years, one of which was a trip to this very hospital when I gave birth to Reuben eight years and one week ago. We don’t live in this area anymore and this isn’t our usual go-to hospital, so he’s never had the opportunity to see where he came into the world. He unexpectedly lights up at my passing comment and goes ALL IN with the questions. 

Just as his name is called, he hurriedly whispers, “I’m glad it’s not a ‘normal’ Christmas because I got to see where I was born”. This small, seemingly insignificant discovery redeems the day. In a lovely, genuine, non-Hallmark kind of way of course. 

I probably shouldn’t have waited until 6 paragraphs in to tell you that Reubs is totally fine and promptly returned to bouncing off the walls while singing the Reformation song at the top of his lungs on the drive home (tell me you’re Paddy Smyth’s son without telling me you’re Paddy Smyth’s son, right?). And we’re all laughing today.

Yes, it’s been an unplanned, coughing, spluttering, wheezing covid-Christmas over here. Yes, we’re sad that our parents don’t get to see the boys. Yes, we’re taking it in turns to collapse in a heap. But do you know what? Our second coffee is brewing, the Lego creations are coming in hot and fast, there’s semi-stale pastries on the go, Christmas is forever, and I’m excited for some small, quiet days of scooping up (and adjusting) my boys in my arms, because these days aren’t forever.