Dallas has a “Lovey”. Something a child gets attached to and doesn’t go anywhere without it. In our case is a blue blanket. My aunt gave it to us when Conner was born. When Dallas was born we started using it and he loved it. He never took a pacifier or sucked his thumb, but he LOVED that blanket.
He had the hardest time letting go of it when it was time to put it in the washer. But I tried to make a game of it. He barely let me put it 3 minutes in the dryer!
On Saturday Dallas and I went to the mall. I had to find a dress for a party we were attending that night. Of course, Blankie (that’s how he named it) came with us. It was a rather frustrating trip, he wasn’t cooperating much, we were getting tired, I wanted to get out of there. As soon as we got back, I realized that Blankie was gone. I called the mall office, left my name and number. I called the last store we were in, they didn’t see it. I went back last night to ask the rest of the stores we were in, nothing.
Blankie is gone.
I was bracing myself for his reaction. That he wouldn’t sleep for days, asking for his Blankie. He cried when I first told him, he looked for it for a few moments yesterday morning, and just now (6 am) woke up asking for it again. I told him: “we left it at the mall, buddy, I’m sorry”. He cried a little bit and went back to sleep.
Me? I’m going to confess something here. I’ve been crying a lot more. While I was driving back from the mall, I started to sob like I lost a friend. I think I did lose a friend. I couldn’t understand why a 29 year old woman is crying because we lost a piece of fabric. But Ben said something to the effect of ‘a member of the family’. And he’s right. That Blankie was another member of our family. It traveled hundreds of miles with us when we moved. We snuggled with it watching movies, we took naps with it, wrapped his babies with it (he thought it was the funniest thing ever 
Took it everywhere. And we lose it less than 2 miles from home.
If someone took it then I don’t get it. That thing is not pretty or expensive. It’s been worn and washed a hundred times. You can tell it belongs to a kid that uses it constantly. Why would they need it? My son does, and every time he asks about it, my heart breaks a little more.
I’m still hoping it will turn up. It has to be somewhere in that place. But I also know that if it doesn’t show up in the next few days, then it means that it’s gone. It’s time to move on. For him, and for me.
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I blog about married life, motherhood, being a CNA, living in San Francisco, trying not to forget Castellano and living after child loss. 
