Two days after Thanksgiving…it’s officially the holidays! I always loved everything about Christmas—the lights, the music, the movies—but the holidays had become a little tarnished for me over the past several years. I was diagnosed with seasonal affective disorder the December before Brandon and I got married. Prior to that, I had been coming home at 4 or 5 pm, napping until 7 or 8, waking up briefly to eat or do homework and then sleeping again from 9 until morning. I was constantly exhausted and can only compare the feeling to being like I was underwater—flailing through thick, syrupy water as I did even the most basic of tasks. The subsequent holiday seasons brought other challenges—personal things that were difficult and frustrating. About the time Thanksgiving concluded, I would tell Brandon that I’d like to press a fast forward button and wake up on January 1st. Let’s skip it, I’d say. Or, let’s just disappear for two weeks around Christmas. It was an admirable plan, but work is work and it was impossible for us to pick up and leave.

Last Christmas was a slog. I was extremely pregnant and the holidays—full of emotion and frustration during a normal year—felt even more emotional and frustrating thanks to my wildly crazy hormones. I kept hoping I’d go into labor on December 23 or 24 so that we could “skip” Christmas. Oh well! I was having a baby and missed Christmas! Darn!

The irony of the holiday season is that it’s supposed to be a time of great joy—full of special traditions and family togetherness, but I know a lot of people struggle with feelings of loneliness and isolation this time of year. The family togetherness was a struggle for us in years past but what was already a difficult status quo changed again…and now it’s reached new, absurd heights.

Then, the other day, I realized that the beauty of this year and this holiday season (and the beauty of the ones to come) is that now I have a family myself. I can make the holidays a beautiful time for Isobel. I can show her my favorite Christmas movies, make her my favorite Christmas treats and drive her around neighborhoods to see all the lights. When our family was just Brandon and I (and a couple of pets), the holidays became a bargaining chip in a crazy game of who gets who, who sees who, who gets what, who goes where. In the midst of the noise and chaos, I lost the essential ingredient—family togetherness. It had become a liability instead.

When Isobel was born, I understood what people meant when they said that their center of gravity shifted once they had a child. I admit that while I was pregnant I went through an occasional moment of denial, telling myself that our lives would more or less be the same, that we’d be able to keep some of the same routine, everything would be okay. I was boldly optimistic about our lives being the same after her birth. Despite the smug nods from friends I mentioned it to, I still thought I could be the exception.

Obviously I wasn’t. But, the amazing thing is that I hadn’t even thought of the alternative while I was pregnant. I hadn’t even considered that I might love the fact that everything is different. I’ve had moments where I thought I might not make it, or that I wasn’t cut out for it, or that I wasn’t good enough. Sometimes the moments are fleeting. Sometimes they last for days—a funk that feels a lot like swimming underwear again. But, through all of this I feel such immense gratitude that I have the chance to give Isobel so much love.

The holidays might never be perfect or look like I want them to look, but my life isn’t perfect either. That’s okay. I don’t need perfection and I don’t even need civility or togetherness. I just want Isobel to grow up believing that everything about this time of year is magical and wonderful. I want her to jump on our bed on Christmas morning and drag us down to the tree. I want to do that damn Elf on the Shelf nonsense for her. I want her to leave cookies out for Santa and have them half-eaten (or gone!) the next day. I want to teach her that not everyone gets presents on Christmas morning and that we should help those families so that everyone has something to open when they wake up on December 25.

When I walked in this morning to get Isobel out of her crib, she looked up from her seahorse and smiled when she saw me. A year ago I wasn’t sure if I’d be a good mom or even a passable one. I was scared, unsure, excited, anxious. I looked down at my stomach and thought, “What the hell will happen when everyone finds out I don’t know what I’m doing?” The funny thing is that over 10 months later, I’m still winging it sometimes. What’s changed is that I now have this person in my arms who trusts me implicitly and every day I attempt to prove that I’m worthy of it.

If Thanksgiving is about being grateful for all the varied blessings in ones life, then Christmas should be about celebrating the people that make life worth living. Gifts are just a way of acknowledging those people in a tangible way. So, when Brandon and I wake up on Christmas morning, walk into Isobel’s room and see her look up and smile at us—that’s what will make this holiday a celebration for me. That’s everything.