If you know my family history, you’re aware I’ve only been a parent since 2018. Well, I was a stepdad until 2023, when I adopted my wife’s daughter Lauren, making it legally, in the words of the judge who signed the paperwork and presided over the lovely ceremony that took place in the courtroom, as if she was my biological child. But I loved her like my biological daughter from the beginning of my relationship with her mom. And one of the great joys of being a dad was the new experience of getting up on Christmas morning to watch my kid open her presents. No, I didn’t get to witness the wonder of her first year of being old enough to really understand the excitement of Christmas morning, but I got to be a part of watching my beloved child open gifts from her parents.

And while she’ll still be opening presents from us this year, she’s a married woman now, who will be in her own home with her husband on Christmas morning. That means Sarah and I will be experiencing our first Empty Nester Christmas. We’ll still exchange gifts, though on a much smaller scale, and we’re still having our traditional breakfast casserole. But it’ll be just the two of us.

I know this is a much more daunting thought to Sarah than it is to me. That’s not to say I don’t adore Lauren–I do, with every fiber of my being. But I spent every Christmas of my adult life until 2018 having Christmas without children. I’d lived that way so long I’d come to a point where I was finally coming to peace with the idea that it was my lot in life never to have children and experience the joy of Christmas morning with them. And when that finally did come along for me, it was with a 12-year-old. It was beautiful and special, but it was just different than Sarah’s experience. Starting in 2005, Sarah’s entire Christmas revolved around making things special for her little girl. And she did it, for the most part, on her own. She went to every choir performance, helped with all the school parties, and did all the Christmas baking and decorating. And she made sure, even when it was nearly impossible financially, that Lauren had wonderful gifts to open on Christmas morning.

Well, she still shopped for Lauren. I don’t imagine that’ll ever change. When you are the parents of an only child, do you ever stop getting them Christmas presents? Probably not. But Lauren won’t be there Christmas morning when we awake. And when she does come to exchange presents, she’ll be with her husband. We love Brodie. He treats Lauren like a princess. Definitely no complaints in that department. But it’s just different. And I’m sad for myself for the change, but I’m much sadder for Sarah. She’s an amazing mom. Sometimes I feel like being a parent is her primary role in life. And that role has changed pretty drastically, and in rather short order. I hope that, together, we can fill that void in her life. I think we are. But time will tell.

Not sure this made sense. Kind of a brain dump. Hope you’ll forgive me if it didn’t. If you’re the praying type, maybe say a little prayer for Sarah that she isn’t too blue during this Christmas of transition. Maybe throw one in for me, too.