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MomWriters Contest Faith 2000 The Journey to Christmas by Alessia Cowee

A bitterly cold wind blew the snowstorm into Northern New Hampshire that December, icing up power lines and streets, freezing water pipes and shutting off electricity. Ilyiana’s mother lay nursing the newborn in her hospital bed, smiling at the warm bundle and counting her perfectly formed fingers and toes.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Michael?” she woke her husband to ask.

“An angel with wrinkly skin and not enough hair.” Michael laughed, leaning over and stroking Ilyiana’s tiny nose. The baby gazed at him with rapt attention, blue eyes dark as a midnight sky in June. Suddenly the eyes closed and she was fast asleep.

The proud father smiled, a dazzling flash of white teeth and abundant joy radiating in the dim hospital room, “Christmas, love, it’s come early this year!”

But Ilyiana’s mama slowly shook her head. “Not yet, Michael. It’s not Christmas yet.”

On that same day, in a faraway place, another mother cradled her daughter. Here the sun shone warmly, palm trees blowing gently, a sea-scented breeze wafting off the ocean and into the open playroom windows.

“Come on Tamara,” the woman encouraged, settling the baby upright against a stack of brightly colored pillows. “Just for a minute or two, hon. Sit up.”

The nine-month old canted to one side and slid gently to rest on the quilt. Her mother sighed, running a hand through her hair. “S’okay Tam, I know it’s hard.” She grabbed the smiling child, lofting her above her head and grinning at the girl’s delighted squeal.

“One more try, kiddo. Before Dad and the sibs get back.” Carefully propping the pillows around the baby for support, Janae arranged Tamara in a sitting position.

The waiting room of their pediatrician’s office was decked out in festive shades of red and green. Twinkling lights strung round the room captured the reflection of snowflakes drifting past the window. Ilyiana raced from toy to toy, dancing about under the blinking lights, clapping her hands in delight.

“Look Mama, look!” She pointed, prattled and pranced, playing reindeer for ten seconds before climbing a stool to peer at the fish glub-glub-glubbing in their huge tank.

Angela watched patiently as Ilyiana played, whispering a reprimand when her toddler squeals rose too loudly in the crowded room. When they were finally called, Ilyi hopped beside her mother, jumped on the scale, then rushed to hug Dr. Collier.

“Bundle of energy, eh Mom?” The doctor asked indulgently. Ilyiana tugged at his stethoscope but quickly grew bored of the grown-up talk and wandered off to play.

“So Angela, how are things going? Ilyiana looks and sounds wonderful. Do you have any concerns?” He laced his fingers behind his head.

Angela thought for a moment. “You know, Dr. Collier, the only thing that really worries me is her climb…” A shout, a thud, and Ilyiana’s terrified screams finished her sentence.

Hours later, Michael cuddled Ilyiana in his lap, carefully avoiding the bright pink cast encasing her fractured wrist. His wife stared out the window into the blowing snow flurries, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. Even Ilyi’s giggles mingling with Michael’s shouts of laughter failed to break into her worry.

Lobbing a stuffed mouse in her direction, Michael said, “Come on Ang, it could have been MUCH worse. We’re lucky she didn’t break her neck, the little monster. Christmas, love, it’s come early this year!”

Angela looked at the two of them with huge, dark eyes and shook her head. “Not yet, Michael. It’s not Christmas yet.”

Sunset migrated across the horizon, capriciously painting the sky violet, periwinkle and gold. A chill breeze mingled with the shouts of children playing freeze-tag. Janae shivered, hugging herself. Tamara fought with her own feet and arms, struggling to keep up with Garrett and Josie sprinting and stopping with joyful abandon.

A voice in Janae’s ear commented, “It’s amazing how they’re always so careful to include her without knocking her over or making it obvious that she can’t keep up.”

Janae’s heart froze and her throat closed up, making it difficult to respond. “Mom, Josie and Garrett don’t treat Tam any differently than they would any other child. They understand that all of us are special.” She turned her back to her mother and walked to the rosebushes, idly plucking the dead leaves from the stalks.

“Oh don’t be so foolish Janae,” her mother began, but was interrupted by Tamara’s howls of pain and frustration. The toddler had tripped on a sprinkler head and tumbled to the pavement. Tossing an angry glance at her mom, Janae walked, not ran, to her daughter who was being helped up by her sister.

“You’re okay Tamara, no owies, see?” Josie pointed to the girl’s knees. Janae dusted off Tamara’s overalls and inspected the palms of her hands. Stroking away a teardrop from the smudged cheek, Janae grinned at her daughter, encouraging her to join in the game once again.

Arms on her hips, lips pursed in disapproval, Sandra Melanger watched her youngest granddaughter run clumsily toward her brother, whooping and giggling. But Janae had had enough. “Mother, get that look off your face. Tamara is a unique and wonderful person, as are Josie and Garrett, if you can’t accept that just keep it to yourself.” Trying to soften the harshness of her words, Janae touched her mother’s arm but the older woman pulled away.

“Tamara is brain-damaged Jan; she is permanently disabled. She will NEVER lead a normal life and the sooner you and Jeff realize that the better off everyone will be. Especially Garrett and Josie!”

Twilight hid the trail of tears on her cheeks, as Janae watched her children running toward her through the dusky light. She whispered to herself and to the heavens, “She’s special. She’s our angel and she is here for a reason.” A prayer winged aloft among tears of love and faith in the rightness of His plan.

“More play with puzzles, please?” Lisa, Tamara’s developmental therapist, smiled broadly at Janae and Tamara, signing and saying “Good job, Tamara, I like your signing and your words!” The four year-old beamed at her mother and Lisa, but insistently reached for the voluminous bag where Lisa carried her toys and books.

The two adults laughed and Lisa handed Tam a complicated peg puzzle. “I’m really pleased that she’s still using her signs. With her language progressing so rapidly, I thought she’d give up the sign language since she doesn’t need it.”

“Believe me, Lisa, I’d much rather she sign to her brother and sister than yell. Signing definitely keeps this
household more peaceful and quiet. Even though she says the words, the signs emphasize her meaning and she doesn’t need to scream.” Smiling slyly to herself, Tamara completed the puzzle and turned to her mother. “I need a cookie please, Mommy.” The words were clear, Tamara’s voice an adorable squeak, the signs made by shaky hands perfect. Janae chuckled and hugged the girl tightly, “Okay, munchkin, but only one. It’s nearly time for lunch.”

Michael yanked and yanked on the suitcase handle, but the bag was wedged so tightly that it refused to budge. “Oh for Pete's sake,” he muttered in irritation. “Angela! Ilyi! One of you come give me a hand with this!” he bellowed up the cellar stairs.

Ilyiana bounded down the staircase. “Need a hand, Daddy?” asked the precocious four year-old in a bubbly voice. The sight of her father fighting with the suitcase set her laughing.

Growling and mumbling about sassy children, Michael motioned for Ilyi to heave against one of the boxes hindering his progress. As she did, he tugged as hard as he could. The suitcase came loose with a wrench, sending Michael tumbling onto the cement floor. Ilyiana herself fell over, laughing uncontrollably, Michael’s hearty chuckles joining hers.

“Be good for Lana, toots.” Michael kissed the top of Ilyiana’s curly head and bent down to embrace her in a bear hug. He watched Angela give last-minute instructions to their babysitter.

This was their first overnight trip away from Ilyiana. The spring air was balmy and warm, though rain was predicted overnight; Michael tossed his jacket into the car.

Angela skipped down the steps, grabbing Ilyi and kissing her face again and again, tickling the girl’s neck. “Have a great time with Lana, Ilyi, baby. Don’t pester for candy and no getting up at bedtime.”

Ilyiana skipped across the green lawn, flapping her arms, waving at the sky and the newly budding trees. “Bye Mommy, bye Daddy! Lana, come on, hurry! Let’s play butterfly tag!! You’re it!”

Much later, exhausted after, seeing a play dancing, and enjoying dinner for two, Angela fell onto the bed in their hotel room and dialed home.

“Lana? I know it’s late and Ilyi’s in bed, but I just wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly.”

Before the sitter had a chance to answer, Angela heard Ilyiana in the background, “Is it my mama? I want to talk!” Lana quickly explained that the child had been up with the flu; vomiting, aching from stomach cramps and diarrhea.

“Mama?” Her daughter’s voice sounded weak and breathy.

“Oh Ilyi, sweetie. I’m sorry you don’t feel well.”

Ilyiana started sobbing, “Mama, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Angela frantically waved Michael over to the phone. “Ilyiana, we’re not upset at you honey. It’s okay to be up late when you aren’t feeling well. You can’t help it. Want to talk to Daddy?”

“Yes. No. I… Mommy, I ate a whole bunch of candy! That’s why my tummy’s sick.” She blurted it out in a rush.

“Did you take it from Lana’s purse, Ilyi? We don’t have any sweets in the house.”

“Yes we do, Mommy. There was a big bottle of candies up in the cupboard. The ones that look like Scooby Doo.”

Angela’s stomach turned liquid with fear. She whispered urgently to Michael, “Call 911 to the house. Oh dear God, help her, please help her.”

Tamara stood unsteadily alongside Garrett and Josie, singing with the children’s chorus, a melody of Easter
celebration and praise. Spotting her parents in the congregation, she waved excitedly while several other parents laughed and smiled at Jeff and Janae.

That afternoon, hunting for Easter eggs in the park, swinging endlessly and calling, “More Daddy, more!”, Tamara kept running back to Janae, hugging her, saying, “I love you Mommy!”

Jeff wrapped his arms around Janae. “She looks so wonderful, Jan. Look at her! It’s a miracle; Christmas has come early this year.”

“Well, Easter is the season of rebirth, Jeffrey. Tamara’s in our lives for a reason. She has a purpose here, just like all of us.”

At the hospital in Dartmouth, the doctors were unable to offer Michael and Angela much hope. Ilyiana had been in intensive care for three weeks and her liver function deteriorated a little more each day. Without a transplant she would die, and finding a compatible liver would take a miracle. Angela stayed by her daughter’s bedside, holding her hand, grown yellow from too much bilirubin in her failing body, whispering stories through a throat choked with sorrow.

Michael kept in contact with UNOS, and the transplant team, pacing the hospital corridors, praying for a miracle. Ilyiana’s fifth birthday was nine months away, would she still be with them to blow out the candles on her cake?

The waiting was driving Sandra Melanger crazy. The waiting and the noise. She heard the squeak of every gurney rolling across the endless tile floors, she heard the constant beeps from monitors in the emergency room. She rubbed her eyes and checked her watch; 12:13 am, they had been waiting to hear if Tamara was okay for almost two hours. She had been seizing for twenty minutes by the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital.

In the hard waiting-room chair across from her, Garrett stirred restlessly. His eyes opened at the same instant Janae stepped through the emergency room door. The ten year-old watched warily as his mother spoke to his grandmother. When Janae turned to him, he knew.

Janae held Garrett’s face in her hands, stared into his eyes, and spoke firmly and lovingly. “It’s time to say
good-bye to Tamara, Gar.” She closed her eyes and cleared her throat before continuing, “We are blessed to have had her in our lives, even for such a short time. We are. Let her know how much you love her.”

The hospital chapel was empty, except for Michael. The dim lights cast eerie shadows over the walls, heightening his unease. When the door squeaked open and Ilyiana’s doctor entered, Michael gasped, “No! Oh please, no.”

Angela bathed Ilyi’s face and hands tenderly, caressing a tendril of black curl which had fallen across the girl’s eyes. Michael and the transplant team entered the room and Angela stood upright, knocking over her chair. The spring had returned to Michael’s step. The doctors were smiling jubilantly.

“Christmas, love, it’s come early this year!”

Ilyiana’s mama slowly smiled, tears of joy filling her eyes, “Oh yes, Michael. Christmas is finally here.”

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