by Mariah Carey
* * *
It was near Christmastime, and I was ten weeks pregnant. It was our Christmas miracle! Nick and I were beyond excited. We kept our little secret just between us, but of course I planned to make the revelation an event over our Christmas vacation. I was even designing tree ornaments as the announcements for friends and family. But on a routine checkup at our obstetrician’s office, the sonogram was silent. The sacred, rhythmic swoosh of our baby’s heartbeat was gone—and in that silence I could hear my own heart crack. I survived my miscarriage, but I will never forget it.
After the devastation I made it my mission to prepare my body to healthily hold and sustain new life. I totally detached from the industry machine and went underground to heal and build. It was the first time in my entire career when I turned down work to concentrate on my well-being (I passed on some big acting opportunities, and after Precious, that’s really where I wanted to go). I employed mostly non-Western medicinal practices, like Chinese herbs and acupuncture. I had meditation moments (and it’s hard), whatever it took. Nothing mattered except putting myself in the best possible position to become and stay pregnant.
All my efforts paid off double—the next time, we were blessed with the miracle pregnancy of the twins! Growing two humans was rough on my body. I gained over a hundred pounds and got very ill. I developed poisonous edema—I was dangerously swollen full of toxic fluid. I also developed gestational diabetes. But the most damaging of all my afflictions was the loneliness. All my fun party friends were nowhere around, because I couldn’t twirl around the city, I couldn’t partake in splashes of wine and late-night gallivanting. On the contrary, I was in constant discomfort. Again, I didn’t have a team that knew how to surround me with the proper care. I was often by myself. But fortunately, this time I did have a mother-in-law who was there for me more than anything else. Nick’s mom, Beth, would come and rub my back (the backaches were debilitating) and feet, which were under excruciating strain from all the weight. She helped me slather on my very special cream that I developed with my dermatologist on my giant, tight drum of a stomach (over a hundred pounds gained, and no stretch marks ’pon de tummy!). She would just sit with me and her grandbabies growing inside my big belly. A kindness.
Nick, on the other hand, didn’t quite comprehend the enormity of what I was going through. Once, we were at an appointment with our specialist for high-risk pregnancies. While I was hooked up to a machine, with the weight of two human beings and a small lake of fluid filling my entire body, the memory of comfort of any kind far in the distance, my kind, older doctor, in his thick Middle Eastern accent, looked over at my sulking second husband and said, “Poor Nick; he’s so exhausted.”
The recording of Merry Christmas II You is what held me together during my treacherous pregnancy. I loved creating the first Christmas album so much; I thought doing another would keep me from slipping into sadness. I totally immersed myself in the writing and recording. I wanted this album to be more diverse and the production lusher. I was collaborating with a broader range of producers, like James Poyser from the Roots (we made “When Christmas Comes” as a classic R & B song, and it’s one of my all-time favorites) and Broadway musical producer Marc Shaiman (the 1950s-esque standard “Christmas Time Is in the Air Again”), in addition to my own go-to favorite partners like Randy Jackson, Big Jim Wright, and JD. The doctors wanted me to be on bed rest, but how, tell me, how do I rest? As I was being pulled down from the loneliness and the fluid I was retaining, working on this album was lifting me.
I recorded most of it in our house in Bel Air, which once belonged to the late, legendary Farrah Fawcett. In my many imaginative roles as a child, one of my all-time favorites was private investigator Jill Munroe of Charlie’s Angels. No surprise, I was fascinated by her hair: the perfection of the color and cut, just laid. (I’ve paid it several homages in my career.) I recall my mother telling me her hair was “frosted,” which my six- or seven-year-old mind heard as “frosting.” And I just knew someday I would slather my hair with a chocolate-and-vanilla swirl and come out looking just like Jill.
One of the highlights of the album was arranging the “O Come All Ye Faithful / Hallelujah Chorus” duet with Patricia Carey, where I was able to blend opera and gospel. We performed it on my ABC Christmas special, with a full orchestra and choir (and with me very pregnant—three generations onstage together!). During this time I also recorded “When Do the Bells Ring for Me” with the incomparable Tony Bennett for his Duets II album; the timeless icon himself came to my home studio to record. I squeezed my big pregnant self into my little pink vocal booth, and we set up microphones outside in the studio for Mr. Bennett, so that our voices would be separate and smooth, but we could be in the same room, which was very important to Mr. Bennett. I recall looking out my little window at a living legend singing with me in my house—a moment. “I never sang with a trio before” was his witty remark (as there were technically four hearts beating in the session), a memory that will always remain with me.
I promoted and performed Merry Christmas II You while enormously and dangerously pregnant. One invitation I simply could not turn down was performing a song I wrote called “One Child” for the twenty-ninth annual Christmas in Washington special. It was filmed in the majestic National Building Museum, and I was singing with a full choir of beautiful and hope-filled young people backing me up. President Obama, the First Lady, Sasha, and Malia were in the front row, directly in my line of sight, beaming with dignity. It was such an honor to perform for the Obamas, and by extension the country, again. For the finale all the performers were gathered on stage and the First Family joined us. Earlier Nick had suggested I tell FLOTUS our then secret. She and President Obama were going down the line, thanking all of us, and when she came to me, I seized the moment and whispered in her ear that I was having twins. After I sang “One Child,” Michelle Obama, our forever historic First Lady, became the first to know we were having two children. What a blessing.
Monroe and Moroccan got their names because I wanted them to have the initials MC, like me. My precious daughter was obviously named after my childhood hero (the sonogram revealed her posed like a Hollywood starlet, reclining on a chaise in the womb!). We arrived at Moroccan because both Nick and I loved the name Rakim (because he is one of the greatest rappers to ever do it). “Moroccan” was a bit of a hybrid name: it rhymed with Rakim, it’s a gorgeous, mystical country where I had a special experience, and it’s the name of the room where so many creative and magical moments happened, including Nick presenting me with my candy bling.
It was wonderful and fun when “dem babies” were little. Together, Nick and I lavished them with as much joy, attention, and safety as we could. But along with double the joy came double the responsibility. It was a lot of work, and a lot of having to be home and be available. Making the necessary adult adjustments to being working parents in entertainment took its toll on our relationship, and the end of our marriage came fast, as it began. Even though we had prenuptials in place, the divorce took two years to become final and cost hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees.
I call your name baby subconsciously
Always somewhere, but you’re not there for me
—“Faded”
Honestly, I think Nick and I could have worked it out between the two of us, but egos and emotions got inflamed (which can translate into many billable lawyer hours, and ultimately it did). It was tough. We both wanted to make sure everything was cool for our family. We will always be family, and we make it work. We still have fun, reminisce, and joke. And we both are certain that Roc and Roe are indeed our light. Every day they give us new life.
I’ve often wondered if there’s ever been a perfect family
—“Petals”
I don’t wonder anymore. Now, I know for certain that there’s never been and probably never will be a “perfect” family. But I have finally found stability in the family I created. There are times I cannot believe I was
a little girl who lived in shacks, who always felt unsafe, under–cared for, lonely, and perpetually scared. I have wanted to go back in time to protect and rescue that little girl from the precarious world she was trapped in. And now, I marvel at my own wonderful children, Monroe and Moroccan, and the safe and abundant environment that has been created for them. Rather than being uprooted thirteen times, they live in multiple gorgeous, pristine, and palatial homes. Instead of exposed nails in the stairs and filthy carpeting, they run freely down long, shiny marble hallways, slide in their socks, and squeal with delight. In lieu of a three-legged rocking couch, they watch films on a cinema-style screen from a steady, luxurious custom-made one of goose-down cushions that’s bigger than my first apartment.
My children are surrounded by my uninterrupted love. I have never been away from them for more than twenty-four hours, and when I am working, they are watched over by a loving family of friends and professionals. They have never, ever, ever been left alone. They have never wondered where I am or if their father knows what their lives are really like. They have multitudes of memories and images of being with two loving parents together. Their lives have never been threatened. Cops have never stormed our house. They probably have three hundred shirts to rotate and donate, and their sweet, soft curls are deeply understood. They do not live in fear. They have never needed to escape. They don’t try to destroy each other. My children are happy, and they play with each other, learn with each other, joke, laugh, and live with each other. And no matter what, they will always have each other. They are Roc and Roe for life.
Of all the many gifts God has blessed me with—my songs, my voice, my creativity, my strength—my children are a vision more beautiful than I could have ever conceived. It is by divine design that the children of a wayward child (who as a child professed she would never have children) are so extraordinarily fortunate. And though I’ve worked so hard for so long, it is still miraculous to me that in one lifetime such a leap has been made for my mixed-up lineage. We have broken a cycle of brokenness.
Guided by grace, I am emancipating myself from the bondage of all the dysfunction of my past—rerouting my legacy and rooting it in pure love. And the blessings keep flowing. Twenty-five years after writing a love song for Christmas that came out of a deep desire for joy and peace in my own family, I have all I ever wanted—topped with big, happy, festive family holiday celebrations.
SNOW GLOBE OF JOY
I was standing decked out in a bedazzling red sequined gown inspired by the dress Marilyn wore in the “Two Little Girls from Little Rock” number in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, on a spectacular, cheerfully decorated stage, at my sold-out 2019 Christmas show in Madison Square Garden. My face was aglow from the joy of the occasion, but mostly as a result of the gifted hands of my gorgeous longtime makeup artist, kiki—confidant and dear friend Kristofer Buckle. Roc and Roe, in their own little merry ensembles (they performed a special rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” that night!) were on one side, and Tanaka was on the other. Behind me were my “singing siblings”—my brother, Trey, and sisters Tots and Tekka, who have been with me through all my seasons, tumultuous and tranquil. And in front of me, yaaaass, in front of me, were tens of thousands of my amazing, diverse, enormous family of loving fans.
I looked out and saw fabulous flocks of Lambs in sequined onesies and other such glitzy garb (the arena was overflowing with sequins, studs, and crystals!), holding signs and holding hands. There were little girls in crushed-velvet dresses on their fathers’ big shoulders; there were old men with no hair next to young women in head wraps; there were Black people, white, indigenous, Asian, Middle Eastern, and countless mixes and variations; gay, straight, fluid, trans, nonbinary, people who were liberal, conservative, devout, agnostic, abled and disabled; people of every shape, hue, persuasion, and belief you could imagine.
And as I gazed upon the marvelous multitudes, as if a lone, bright star was shining right down on her face, I saw Liron, a woman who was once a twelve-year-old girl who had the lyrics to “Looking In” written on the door of her bedroom in Tel Aviv, now a woman who is an invaluable member of my inner team and a treasured, loyal friend. I saw the knowing eyes of girlfriends and colleagues—people I have worked with, laughed and cried with during every era of my life. My universal family of fans, who have given me unparalleled, unstoppable, unconditional support since Day One, were spread out before me like a crystal-clear ocean of love.
For so long I wished I could get five people to be in harmony at Christmastime, and here I was in a family of thousands of Lambs, fans, and friends, and everybody was singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” together! They were singing with me; they were singing to me. Our voices were ringing so loudly and jubilantly all of New York City could’ve heard us and joined in. In that moment we were all united in our own universe of the Christmas spirit. Tons of white confetti flakes came floating down on top of us from the ceiling. It was like the whole world was with me in one big snow globe of joy!
The next day I was utterly exhausted and entirely exhilarated as I woke up to the Billboard headline: “Wish Come True: Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ Hits No. 1 on Hot 100 After 25-Year Wait.”
Wait. What?!
Right at the end of 2019, I got my nineteenth number one! The Lambs made it happen again! My fans made it the most streamed song globally in a single day ever! I had worked hard and focused with my small team to give the song big energy on its shining silver anniversary, but making it to number one—that’s huge! That’s only something genuine fans, not just marketing plans, can do.
After the wonderful whirlwind of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” ended I made my traditional sojourn to my own winter wonderland, Aspen. With blood and chosen family—Roc and Roe, Tanaka, Shawn and his wife, two of my dogs, Cha Cha and Mutley, in tow, I was ready to nestle in and let our new traditional festivities begin! The days were sparkling and crisp. The grassy fields outside our homey-yet-sprawling chalet were blanketed with thick crystal-white snow, as if glittery clouds had settled down to sleep in our backyard. Content to stay in our cozy onesies all day, the kids and I put on our puffy coats and ski boots right on top of our PJs and dashed out into the fluffy blanket of flakes to make snow angels. Eyes pointed up at the bright-blue sky, we let the fresh smell of pine waft over our faces and tickle our noses.
Inside, the beautiful bustle of family warmed the whole house. From Handel’s Messiah to the Jackson 5, Christmas music was the infinite soundtrack (with laughing, dogs barking, and kids scurrying as the backgrounds). The halls, the walls, everywhere was decked and decorated, and fires roared in the fireplaces. In the living room the massive tree was filled with white lights, gold balls, cherubs, and gilded butterflies and topped with a beautiful angel star with gold-tipped wings and cream gossamer fabric flowing down from them. (In the family room is always another old-school-style tree with big, multicolored lights, giving a fuller, much happier Charlie Brown vibe. We decorate it with homemade ornaments and happy Polaroid pictures of each other; I also add cherished ornaments Lambs from all over the world have sent me over the years.) Garlands and lights cascaded down mantels and doorways, and white candles and poinsettias were all about. Cups were filled with rich hot cocoa and yummy butterscotch Schnapps.
At Christmas I have time to cook my favorite dishes—my father’s linguine with white clam sauce (for Christmas Eve, of course) and stuffed shells. Santa comes by the house to spread some cheer, and we ride and sing on a two-horse open sleigh, hey! We sing carols and actually frolic in the snow. It is real. It is loud. It is fun. It is Joy. It is my world.
I was already feeling full of gratitude (and hot chocolate and Schnapps) during our Aspen getaway holiday when another Billboard headline broke: “Mariah Carey Becomes First Artist at No. 1 on Billboard Hot 100 in Four Decades, Thanks to ‘All I Want for Christmas.’” Yes, thank you to the fans who have loved my little Christmas love song so deeply—so much so that it held t
he number-one spot on the charts for three weeks, making it the last number-one song of 2019 and the first number-one song of 2020, the first year of a new decade … Really, what is a decade again?
After all the swirling, toasting, singing, and celebrating. folks peeled off to cozy up into their places for the night. The kids were snuggled up in the family room, watching a movie, and everyone else was content in their bedrooms. I tiptoed quietly into the living room and sat by the fireplace. All was dark except for the stars twinkling outside of the big windows against the black-blue sky and the warm amber glow from the fire. I reveled in a sweet, quiet, private moment with myself. I took it all in.
I am peaceful.
I am complete.