I think I have told it here, the first Thanksgiving after we had married.

On November 10th, I gave birth to my baby Shannon Marie who was dead. Of course I was traumatized and hubby, Mom and I didn't feel like doing anything at all. Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving, the doorbell rang but I didn't care who it was and let someone else deal with it.

There was this huge box covered in gold foil wrap with a giant red bow and a large note from the local church youth, wishing us a Happy Thanksgiving. Mom and DH made me open it up, hoping it would pull me out of my severe depression.

It was a a fresh turkey and all the trimmings to make a great dinning. They even included kitchen hand towels, Fall decorations, and the spices needed to make a meal, nothing was missing. Me being in a rather fragile state of mine, just sat in the middle of the living room floor and cried, surrounded by all the Thanksgiving groceries.

Wednesday I got up and started baking. Hubby was right there and started cleaning up as I went to make things easier. Mix up the pie crust dough and turn to pick up the dough blender and it was gone. Look at DH and he is washing it. "Ahhh how sweet my lovely new hubby is" I thought, gave him a tear filled kiss and just used a fork and my hands to finish the pie crust. We had only married on Jan 1st of that year, so this was first major holiday.

I then mixed up the pumpkin pie filling, turned to get the whisk I had placed on a plate while I used a spatula , then reached for the whisk to mix up the milk being added and it was gone. I grinned at him and asked for it back, as I needed it.

This continued throughout the day but I never got irked just thought he was sweet.

Thursday, the big day, Thanksgiving!!! It was here and I was very weepy but pushed forward. We were going to have a nice dinner and that was all there was to it. My brother and his family were coming over later in the day to share the meal and I didn't want to let anyone down.

In the kitchen is like medicine for me, it heals me, makes me happy even in this case, it only made me feel closer to normal, not really happy. I wanted my baby not some damned turkey meal. Stood up straight and said I was going to do it and be happy for it!

I put the turkey in the over, the giblets on to simmer - argued with hubby over the right pronunciation of giblets, soft "g" or hard. Him coming from a Yankee family and I coming from a Southern family both said it different. It was fun and I actually laughed for the first time.

In the mean time, my spoon disappeared from mixing up cranberries cooking on the stove. He wasn't in there and I found it in the sink. Washed it, stirred the cranberries and put it BACK on the spoon dish next to the stove and continued with other preps for dinner. Sat down for a few and had a cigarette, felt like crying so went back to the kitchen and made busy work. Went to give the cranberries a stir - yup, you know where it was - in DH's hand as he dried it an put it in the drawer.
Since I was still working at the PD, my inner brain language wasn't pretty and it was screaming the nasties at him at this point. "you have got to be kidding me," was all I said to him. He gave me a puzzled look and I kept silent.

Bird is almost down, the mad rush to get everything done, the brother and his wife and 5 month old baby is there - further pain looking at that thing and no, I wouldn't even touch my nephew. Didn't want that child around me and someone was always carrying him into the kitchen for me to see him and I would turn my back on them. They were mean and hateful about it. How could they? Didn't they know just looking at a baby was killing me???

I drained the potatoes to mash them, turned to pick up a big spoon and by Hellfire and damnation the stupid freakin spoon was gone again!@!!! That spoon was CLEAN, I hadn't even gotten a chance to use the bloody thing yet! "Dear husband (actually it was his full name used) why do you keep taking my spoons? What the HELL is wrong with your effing mind that you can't see that I am still using my damned sheetty spoon to mix these nasty damned potatoes with????"

I screamed it. I added a bunch more nasty words and just started crying. I was led outside to have a cigarette and given a happy pill that the docs have given and left alone. Very ashamed of my actions, when I returned, I apologized and helped to finish the meal.

As everything was set on the table, before sitting down, my brother took my nephew out of his swing and approached me with that thing in his arms. I turned my back and started straightening the table that looked like something out of a magazine. My husband and my mother got on both sides of me to keep me from moving away. Not a word was spoken, just silence and babble from that thing getting closer and closer, I could smell him. My brother put his arms around me, his wife has now joined the circle around me, arms pulling me in and baby nephew is placed in my shaking arms. I cried. They cried. Baby cooed.

My first Thanksgiving as a wife. I have a collection of those tourist spoons, about 100 of them, of every place we go or even my brother goes. It is a funny thing - those spoons!!!

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I am thankful for my two angels - now I will go out and have a cig after all those tears that brought back.