A Christmas I'll Never Forget...

Since Robby was born, the focus of Christmas has shifted in our family. Scott and I are now devoted to making the holiday memorable and happy for Robby. Yes, Santa will bring some pretty cool presents (if I do say so myself), but I have also flooded his days with crafts and holiday projects. Buying presents for each other is no longer a priority. Scott should be particularly grateful for the shift in focus!

Scott has many wonderful attributes. Picking out gifts is not one of his talents. I love him, but he has the romantic inclination of a slug.

I can't help but recall Christmas 2003. Much to Scott's chagrin, this holiday will never be forgotten. The events of this Christmas have been retold and have already been incorporated into the folklore of our family and friends.

2003 was a difficult year for me. It was the year of my amputation. By the time Christmas came around, I was physically recovered from the limb loss, but emotionally fragile. I desperately needed reassurance that, although I was missing my leg, I was still loved and desired.

Scott and I had been dating for three years. We had discussed marriage but mutually agreed that I should be recovered from the amputation before moving forward with our relationship. By December 2003 I had been walking for 6 weeks. I was getting stronger everyday. I needed something to look forward to. I was ready to get engaged.

We spent Christmas Day apart that year. I was at my mom's house and he was in Ohio. Scott and I exchanged gifts before he left, but per his request we each kept one gift back. He explained that he had a "special" gift that he wanted to give to me in Ohio in front of his family.

My mom, my cousins and I speculated all day about my ring. Surely I was going to receive a proposal the following day. We were all excited, and I was over the moon. For the first time since my amputation, I was seeing a ray of happiness. I was still loved and he still wanted to marry me despite my amputation.

I woke up early the next morning to fly to Ohio. After struggling through the airport with a painful residual limb, I was thrilled to see Scott waiting for me at baggage claim. After attending the obligatory family luncheon, I finally arrived at his mom's house. After exchanging pleasantries and holiday presents, it was time for our "special" gift exchange.

Scott emerged from the back bedroom carrying a small square box. It was wrapped with a red bow. I remember every detail of the presentation. After all, this was "my moment."

Scott was beaming as he handed me the box. My heart began to beat quickly, and I was pretty sure it could be heard across the room. My hands were shaking as I nervously unwrapped the paper...

A pedometer.

Yes, he bought me a pedometer--for someone who just had an amputation and was feeling fat and ugly. And he bought me a walking-oriented weight loss device. To this day, Scott is quick to point out that it was a very cool pedometer which could be hooked up to the internet so that my information could be uploaded. Only being in the presence of his mother kept me from telling him where to upload his pedometer!

Scott didn't realize that by giving me that pedometer he was actually providing a gift for all of my family and friends. Now, whenever someone receives a present that is deemed "inadequate" or "thoughtless," the giver can simply shrug and say, "Well, at least it isn't a pedometer."