The Sweetness We Keep
On Sunday, we stayed in bed until 11:00 —stacked empty dishes piled on the wooden serving tray Brad made, with coffee stained mugs jostling with plates for space. We watched Saturday Night Live from the previous night, one of our favorite shows, but one we rarely stay up to watch live. The morning sun trickled through the south-facing windows, and as the hours passed, we watched the sun make her rounds. The hummingbirds zoomed outside, enjoying their sugary breakfast. We protect these slow mornings, seldom making plans during the time slots, and have since we first became an item..
Brad and I love to put a twist on our ordinary experiences, and that’s how the Bonne Maman Jam Advent calendar entered our lives. For the first time, in November, we opened the calendar early and slowly delighted in the sweet morning treats. We try three jams on any given day, attempting to catch up from the days we missed. Not following the structured order of an Advent calendar is very on brand for us. We’ve learned to love the scenic path, one that isn’t on the route but has such a beautiful view.
Whenever it’s time to eat the sweet preserves, we treat it like a celebration. On the tray, the English muffins are sliced, with both tops and bottoms exposed, allowing a delicious view of the insides. Brad likes to place each piece slightly off-center, giving an abstract yet intentional look. We take note of the colors and textures, like a jeweler inspecting a gemstone; we need to absorb every aspect. The jam is the star of the season.
There is a cult-like following for the Bonne Maman advent calendar. It sells out every year. The unique flavors- Apricot Lavender, Mango and Ginger, and my personal favorite: Cherry Peppercorn- give a quintessential and majestic performance. The small amounts in the tiny jars make every spread meaningful. The individually wrapped little boxes inside the calendar each have a holiday-themed phrase behind them, one we say out loud, often in a silly accent. The entire process is an experience and I completely understand and support the obsession.
We specifically chose the Bonne Maman Jam calendar because it was never part of the traditions we imagined with children. Of course, kids can enjoy it too, but this wasn’t in the list of things we dreamed about. I assumed I’d participate in the ‘normal’ holiday traditions as a mother: Reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, baking cookies for Santa, and allowing them to open stockings before everyone was awake. But we didn’t have children. We don’t experience the holidays through a child's eyes. And for the first few years after stopping treatments, Brad and I tried to do the ‘normal’ things. But the experiences fell short. Christmas mornings were quiet, our stockings were empty, and the gifts under the tree were only for each other. Overall, the holidays are extremely kid-focused. I understand it, and I don’t have to like it. I think about sitting around a holiday meal, and every conversation returning to the children. I know I’m not supposed to be saying this, but if you don't have kids, and especially if you wanted them, you know it’s true. And just as Amy Gallo Ryan wrote in her book, You Might Feel a Bit of Pressure, “I didn’t want to feel the particular ache that comes with invisibility.”
I grieve every single year during the holidays. Without fail, I remember we didn’t get the life we wanted. And I get the impression that I’m supposed to be over it by now, that it’s been years, so I should be happy. It’s often a sticky mess.
We have other traditions we enjoy: Brad has a German Christmas Pyramid that moves from the heat of candles. I accidentally burnt it last year, but we still set it out, burn marks and all. We drive the Chico Tour of Lights, but in our school bus and with our rescue put bull. And after, we like to stop at Wine Time for a delicious glass of red and some yummy appetizers. Brad made Christmas sweaters for us, my brother and my hometown bestie. When we stand in the correct order, all of the images line up. They are all “Christmas Sick,” aka throwing up or experiencing an unauthorized evacuation of Christmas-themed buttons and glitter.
When we first stopped trying, I’d stay away from social media on holidays. Posts of Christmas morning made my heart heavy—the chaos of the room, the tired faces of the parents, and the children. It doesn’t hurt as badly as it once did, but I refuse to turn away from the pain. Like a shooting star, it often shows up unexpectedly, and turning towards it feels better than turning away. I want to witness it. I admit it may sting for the rest of my life. And figuring out how to navigate this version of myself is something I work on every single holiday season.
I grieve the person I wanted to become and grieve the person I am. And I do have a kind of pride in this version of myself, because I made it through some shit to get here. I can acknowledge how far I've come while understanding this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. And balancing these two essential pieces is not chill. Not chill at all.
Embracing the childfree life after infertility has its perks. We are living our lives full of pleasure. Lazy Sunday mornings, eating breakfast in bed, doing everything on our own time- all of this was possible because we didn’t have kids. A life like this might not be for everyone, but I’ve learned to find deep gratification in it. When we were trying to become parents, we were trying to fit into the life we imagined, a life with children. But since that wasn’t the case, since we moved forward without adding another generation, we would need to do something different. Brad and I are pretty good at being different.
And that’s where the Bonne Maman Jam Advent calendar came in.
It wasn't something we envisioned, and that simple part has made all the difference. It’s new, it’s annual, and it's ours. One year, I waited to buy it, and it sold out. The following year, I purchased it in October, just in case. And this past year, Bonne Maman reached out to ask if we'd like to receive one because I talk about it so much- a reward for the life we’re living.
On this upcoming Sunday, I know we’re going to sleep in. We will savor the slow morning because no one needs us. We can stay in bed all day, go to the cafe for breakfast, or simply watch TV from the comfort of our home. It’s not the weekend life we hoped for, desperately tried for eight years, but our own sweet sticky mess of a life. Each jar of jam has a unique flavor that preserves a small moment. Some flavors we might not understand or fully taste, like the cherry and violet leaves spread, but we still enjoy and celebrate the occasion the jam signifies. And just like the back of the box reads, “A delicious moment to cherish, every time.”