The Last Picture

This is actually difficult to write. You may find that statement extremely lame after you read the entire post, but it is true all the same. Here is the last picture of Ethan's blankie: 

Unfortunately, that blanket is somewhere on Disney property . . . never to be found again.

When George was a baby he used a pacifier.

That little plug was like a drug.

He would be screaming and crying like a maniac, but as soon as you got him sucking he was perfectly content.

I have never taken drugs before, but that is what I hear they do to adults.

Put them in a perfect place of happiness.

Maybe I should think about taking drugs?

Anyhow . . .

Ethan never took a pacifier.

He never sucked his thumb.

He spent his infancy with no real comfort tool (unless you count my boob in his mouth every hour).

When he was around nine months old he started warming up to this blanket.

It isn't the softest blanket we own.

It wasn't given to us by any special person.

It isn't even pretty.

But for some reason he just became attached.

He would rub it on his face before falling asleep.

He loved to bite it when he was calming down.

He would hand it to me every single time I took him out of the crib, as if saying, "Mom, here take my blanket first, so I can have it while I am out and about."

He would reach for it and clench his fists when it was out of his reach.

He took it everywhere with him.

That was his comfort tool.

And we lost it.

I have tried to get him attached to all other blankets in the household, but he isn't buying it.

I feel terrible.

Just terrible.

Again, it may sound lame, but I hate that I failed him.

I know he won't remember in a few weeks.

I know I would have eventually had to break him of the habit.

Blah, blah, blah . . .

I still feel bad.

As I was thinking about it I couldn't help but look at the situation as a precursor.

A precursor to all the times I will fail my baby.

All the times I won't be able to fix what is making his heart hurt.

All the times I will watch as he is sad, and his human mommy can't do anything about it.

It is absolutely the most heart-wrenching feeling in the world.

The only thing I can do for my babies in these situations is pray that God would give them peace and comfort.

The kind of peace and comfort I can't give.

The kind only He can give.

He is a God of mercy and grace.

I am so thankful.

Ethan woke up crying the first night he didn't have his blankie.

I knew that was why.

The second night it was like nothing ever happened.

I think he is over it.

But obviously I am not.