It's amazing how your perception of what makes a "bad" Christmas changes with age. Until about a year ago, my worst Christmas was when I didn't get Pokemon Leaf Green with my new GBA SP, to which I cried at like a whiny little bitch. Which I then found out my Nan and Grandad had bought me later. Yeah, proper spoilt little cunt to be honest.
Then a year ago, my Dad and Mum had a huge domestic incident into which I cleverly involved myself, and nearly got kicked out on Christmas Eve for. Drinking from 2pm onwards is never a good idea. Nobody even remembers what we argued about, but after a brief armistice on Christmas morning, it reignited over dinner. Silly trivial shit though. As I said, we're stupidly lucky.
Then this year, my Grandad, after a long battle with kidney failure and overwhelming depression, has passed away about an hour or two ago. I have been so overwhelmingly busy with my part time job and my teaching course that I never made the time to make the 80 mile trip to see him, and now I never will.
Still, this all pales in comparison to some of your stories. That baby one is, or at least should be, every human being's worst nightmare. How utterly cruel.