Three years ago I spent Christmas in the NICU with my six day old daughter. It was not how I planned to spend Christmas. Shoot, she wasn’t due until the middle of January. When she arrived 4 weeks early, we were surprised and then scared.

 

My biggest fear was that no one would know and witness the miracle that I had experienced. This little life had opened up a canyon of emotional and spiritual depth that I did not know I could feel and experience. And yet, she lay in a NICU room. Allowed only two visitors at a time. My family, my in-laws, and my friends were all far away from this NICU room- most in another State and some in another country. I could not accept that this would be limited to just me, my husband, and the handful of people that came to visit.

 

I had told no one of my fear. In fact, I don’t know if I could’ve put it into words just yet- I just had this sinking, grasping feeling that this child was entering the world and no one would know the miracle and difference of having her here meant, if not for anyone else- then for me. And her dad.

 

Eventually, people came to my rescue and my sorrow and concern went away. My mom’s cousin and his wife lived nearby and came to visit. My mom flew down to be here. A few weeks later, my best friend came down to be here. Additionally many of my local friends just wrapped their arms around us with meals, balloons, flowers, and other fanfare. I will never forget when an older lady in my ward, who was not known to be a generous person, just showed up a few weeks after we’d been home with some frozen chili and gave me $100. The place where I’d interned at had the entire office send cards and gifts. My husband’s news station broadcasted a picture of our NICU baby on Christmas Day.

 

 

 

This year I reflected on this experience and then thought of Mary. She knew she would carry the Son of God. I don’t think the rest of it was laid out for her as part of the plan.

Part of me can almost go through the same back-up plans I’m sure she did- those plans that I went through as I tried to make reality and life match up with the thought and feelings I had as I became a new mom.

 

“This isn’t how I planned to have my first child. But here we are, I need to figure out how to make the best of it.”

 

“I wish I could afford a better place to stay.”

 

“I wish I knew more people here. If I were back in my hometown I’d have plenty of people to help with this experience.”

 

“I hope people understand how life-changing this is”

 

Compared to Mary, my feelings were probably only a particle of what she went through, here’s what I think she must’ve thought or felt:

 

“Here is the Son of God. He’s not in the Tabernacle. He’s not in the synagogue. He’s in a manger with some animals… shouldn’t there be a greater flourish for his entrance into this world? Where are the bowing knees? Where is the whole world??? Can’t they know that this changes everything?”

 

Of course, Mary wasn’t in the America’s seeing the Star. She wasn’t with the sheperds when they saw an angel. The wise men traveling to meet her Son hadn’t sent anything beforehand to let her know they were going to great lengths to be there. The concourses of angels that sang praises to the Newborn King were not pacing around the manger, waiting for Christ’s birth.

 

How often do I-do we- not grasp the full picture. If we but wait, we can look back and see the entire scene play out. The brief moment of despair and concern is but one thread in the entire plan.

 

Once it’s passed and we see the full experience, the sadness and concern becomes a moment of strength and sacredness.

 

I look at that First Christmas with new eyes since having my daughter. I can appreciate and humanize Mary more than I’ve been able to before. The Nativity is not just a time-stopped, beautifully paused moment. It’s fraught with those desperate emotions we experience in life- and some of us experience at Christmastime.