Sometimes a kiss and a bandaid won’t do

I’ve pretty much given up hope on finding Tia’s lovey. I know I’ve been talking about this a lot, but it really has been an upsetting thing for her and for me. I spent a little time thinking about it last night because I have honestly fluctuated between crying over that silly bear and laughing at myself for getting so upset. It’s more than just the fact that we lost a little piece of Tia. That, of course, does make me so sad, but it goes beyond those emotions.

As parents, we work hard to fix our children’s problems – especially when they’re little and the problems are so easy to fix. You got a scrape? Let mommy kiss it – all better! You’re scared? Here, come snuggle with mommy.  And so it goes… 

The problems, in general, are just easier to fix during these young years. But now, suddenly, my daughter has a problem that I cannot fix for her. It’s relatively minor, of course, compared to the real tragedies that could happen. But in her little two year old mind, she is missing her best friend and I am unable to fix that for her. I can’t turn back the clock and look for lovey before we left the hotel. I can’t will him to appear. I can’t find another one on the internet. It’s the first time I’ve watched one of my kids face disappointment and it stinks!

My mom wisely told me the other day that this will not be the last time I have to sit back and watch my child hurt and know there’s nothing I can do to fix it. We are approaching the school days when the sharp, pointed barbs of another child’s words could potentially devastate one of my kids. That is a wound I cannot prevent and it will equally cut through my heart to see them suffer such disappointment. There will likely be some snot nosed little boy that will one day come along and break my daughter’s heart and I will have to sit back and let her be refined through that experience.

There are so many disappointments to come, so many heartaches that mommy will not be able to kiss away. For now I will relish the thought that for the most part, I am their hero. I can fix their problems, but I am praying the Lord will give me the strength to handle the bigger disappointments to come because if I get this upset over a little bear, what will I do when something worse happens?

With time, Tia will slowly forget that little purple bear. Before long, his memory will exist to her only through pictures and the stories we tell. I, however, will probably always long to find her lovey bear. I imagine that for years to come, every time I pass a children’s section of a store, my eyes will automatically glance through the stuffed animals hanging up disply, looking and hoping to see lovey bear. Long after her affections have moved on to something else, my heart will still long to ease the pain of the few weeks when she longed for her friend, her comfort.

Am I obssesive, or is this just natural? I haven’t figured that one out yet.