And Then I Lost It

My little baby angel is a very privileged young chap, who, upon the occasion of his baby shower got copious amounts of gifts before anyone had even met him and discerned him to be a likable fellow. 

On this joyous occasion, the darling guy received no fewer than a dozen blankets from relatives far and wide--many of them gorgeous and handmade with love. Some of these, due to their particular breathability and size, ended up as sheets for his car seat, where he slept for longer than recommended. Some of them serve as a colorful rectangles on the floor underneath him as he plays. Even the scratchy ones are used as decor, folded and slung over the crib as accent pieces when visitors stop by.

Yet, as with most babies, one particular blanket has emerged as his go-to blanket. The one that is just the right size. The one that is just the right weight. The one that is just the right fabric. The one that, when placed on the little guy when he's tired and nursing, he will slowly knead the fabric with his fingers, and shortly thereafter, his eyes gently roll back into an easy slumber. 

The Chosen One is a well-known brand, tiddliwinks, sold at most local Targets. While it was not quilted or crocheted by my favorite people, the purchaser was my husband's oldest bestie and delivered to us just days after the birth of our son by the oldest bestie himself. And therefore, Very Special Indeed.

four-day-old Dax with Dave's BFF DaRell (& giftor of The Chosen Blanket)

Perhaps it is fitting that this blanket is The One, because this blanket was the only blanket purchased for us by A Man, and therefore the deep navy blue color and stitched sports balls and inlaid "Champ" insignia did, in fact, stand out considerably from the lighter, more precious blankets gifted to us by the entire female side of our relational brood. Dax must have known: This is a boy blanket. 

And so it was, from his baby newborn days and through his entire eight months of existence, wherever Dax went, this blanket followed close behind. Made of a soft, buttery micro fleece, this medium-sized blanket has a nice weight and warmth to it that Dax loves. When he's anxious and active, this blanket will almost always calm him, as witnessed by an audible sigh and a ceasing of the ceaseless kicking of limbs. 

Dax and his blanket at eight days old

So it was without fanfare that when my husband and I trekked to the open air baseball stadium in  Downtown San Diego last Saturday night to watch our Padres play the Seattle Mariners, we packed Dax's favorite blanket, to ward off the light coastal wind wafting in from the nearby harbor. 

Dax thoroughly enjoyed his first baseball game. He was passed from lap to lap, reveling in the company of a handful of our relatives who kept him giggling and cuddled. During the duration of the game, the soft blanket covered my knees. 

Saturday night at the Padres game

As we left the stands, a few hours later, I strung the blanket over my purse and held the handles. We headed to the car. It was warm enough that my son's favorite blanket went unneeded almost the entire evening.

And that was The Last Time I Saw It. 

As we approached the parking garage, I realized the blanket no longer occupied the space near my elbow. Frantic, we retraced our steps back to the stadium. No dark mass of navy blue blanket lay crumpled on the sidewalk in that entire 1/4 mile.

I called up to my family, still in the stands. Was it there? No.

I begged the ticket person to let me re-enter the gates so I could skip up the stairs and the elevator where we walked.

Nothing. 

I went to Lost & Found, where I filled out a report that read something like this..."my son's favorite blanket. navy blue. micro fleece. sporty "champ" embroidered. the only thing he's every loved, please help me..."

As I treaded back down the steps to the exit gates, I felt like a complete failure. Shoulders slumped, I met the eyes of my husband holding our son, now favorite blanketless, and shook my head No. Dave said maybe they'll find it and call us later and then we headed back in the direction of the car. With each step I could feel the hot tears well up in my throat. 

And Then I Lost It. 

In a pitch so high it was barely audible, with chunky tears dropping from my cheeks, the words started streaming out, "I'm the worst mother ever I can't believe I lost his FAVORITE blanket it's like the only material thing that he's attached to so far and he uses it every time he naps he NEEDS it and I LOST it I can't believe I would do such a thing why didn't I tie it to the purse omg he's had that blanket since he was an itty bitty newborn and it has all his beautiful baby energy on it and I was gunna save it forever and he was going to have it forever and it would be his favorite thing and now it's GONE..."

Poor Dave. Instantly realizing the severity of my mommy meltdown, he sprung into action, "Baby, baby, hey hey it's ok, it's ok, don't worry, no worries, baby hey..." I paused to breathe. And then more tears and then he said, "First off, you are the best mother ever." And then, altruistically, he mentioned that maybe some downtown San Diego homeless guy had it (tons of homeless rove the area), and maybe he needed it more than us.

But that made things way worse because then I imagined the preciousness of my son's beautiful blanket that contained all his beautiful baby energy on it; I imagined it in the smelly toothless face of some greasy bum who had just snorted lines of crystal meth and smeared his dirty crystal meth dust on my son's most favorite thing. 

I wailed louder, now eyeing every thieving bum in my vision. 

Luckily, Dave kept after it, assuring me that we could get him a new one right away. And then he said some things that for some reason kind of made me feel better: He assured me that we would lose plenty of his favorite things over the duration of his existence and that that was just par for the parental course.  This was our first time and it was hard, but don't be so hard on yourself because it's not the end of the world and we have a long string of lovely lost things in our future.

And so eventually I calmed. In the car, it was quiet and Dave told me that even though he hated so see me sad, he found it charming that I was so upset. I smiled a little and loved him for that.

When I woke in the morning, Dave told me that he found the exact same blanket online and purchased it and that it would be here in a few days. I thanked him. The stadium called me the next day and told me they didn't find it; No good Samaritan carried it to their counter. 

A few days later, the navy blue "Champ" blanket, an exact replica of My Son's Favorite Thing arrived, wrapped in a silky ribbon. And as I slipped it around his little body before his nap, he sighed gratefully and visibly calmed.

I felt a little deviant. I got a glimpse of us, as parents, in the future when Dax's favorite little hypothetical turtle dies, that us, unable to tell him about the loss, would purchase a replacement turtle--slipping it into the tank after midnight without a word.

I feel so sad I lost that blanket, like kicked in the stomach sad. But I am grateful, we got a new one that does the exact same trick. This mama road is going to be rife with all sorts of fun...

Sigh...