The Blanket

Don’t you just gush every time you see a cute, cuddly baby blanket? I do. Every time I see an adorable, comfy blanket for little ones, my expression changes and a different emotion rushes over me. I love my boys’ baby blankets, especially the ones that were personalized for them. My affection for their blankets was obviously transferred, because they both LOVE some blankies! I have pictures of the boys with their blankets. They go where we go. They are their safety nets and my time capsule. They keep them warm when there is a chill and comfort them when they’re hurt and soothe them when they’re on the cusp of bedtime.
There is one blanket in our home with a different role. It has never touched the little boy it belongs to. His scent nor his drool ever encountered it. It sits neatly folded in a box. It covers and protects so many important things. It is adorable and soft. In bold red letters reads the name of the sweet little boy who is not here. A month leading up to August 18, it hung properly over the walls of the bassinet that was to cradle him to sleep.
Many angel moms lay their baby to rest in their baby blanket. I didn’t have that one with us that day. Instead, his body was put to rest warmed by his little fleece camouflage blankie with orange silky trim. I wish the blanket I have would have held him, if for only a moment so that when I touch it, I know that he touched it too.
Our oldest still loves his little blankies and most of the time, requests them for sleeping or asks to carry them in the car on the way to school. I let him. What is it really hurting? I’d like to think if life was different and we hadn’t lost Wyatt, I’d still let him be little as long as possible, but that, I’ll never know. The way I see it now is I would rather my son be attached to a blanket than have a blanket without a little boy to hold it.
Let them be little. With Love -Heather

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