It's one of the most common questions asked in any group as an ice-breaker: "Tell about the best Christmas present you've ever received." No one can ever top my gift, as having a baby on Christmas Day easily surpasses the shiniest bike or even Ralphie's (of "The Christmas Story") long-coveted BB gun.
I didn't really expect to have a baby on Christmas Day, even though the ultrasound clearly gave December 25 as my due date. Who ever has a baby on her due date? I should have known, though. Jesse was due on March 27th and born on the 29th; Laurel was due on August 29th and born on the 27th. It would only make sense that the one due on the 25th would actually be born on the 25th!
The baby was generous enough that morning to wait until after the older two had opened their presents. I didn't head to the hospital until noon of Christmas Day. Duncan James was born a little after 5 p.m., weighing in as plump as a Christmas turkey at 10 lbs. But not all was tidy and sweet. Duncan had aspirated meconium in utero and was whisked off by ambulance to the NICU at a different hospital, his daddy right there with him. I was left alone on Christmas Day, my precious gift struggling for breath.
I was released early the next day (Randy's birthday) and we spent the next six days in a fog of home and hospital, trusting that the Giver of all good and perfect gifts would restore ours to us. On New Year's Eve we brought our treasure home and placed him in the spot that seemed most natural: under the Christmas tree.
Duncan will be five this Christmas Day, and, like Mary, I still "quietly treasure these things" in my heart and ponder them often. This blue-eyed boy is as generous today as he was the morning before his birth, bestowing his smile on all and bringing joy to his family's world throughout the year.