It’s something none of us, as parents, can ever be fully prepared for: the loss of a child’s loved one. It’s gut-wrenching at any age, but for toddlers who are just making sense of the world around them and the relationships in which they’re involved–and just learning how to use language to process that information–there is a unique set of problems parents must confront when grappling with how to comfort bereaving children and how to usher them through a journey of grief.
Last week was a difficult one for our two children, especially Twin A, aka Cobra. Both kids suffered the loss of two special friends. Both girls were shaken, but little Cobra took it particularly hard. Even though Green Balloon technically belonged to Cobra’s sister, Butterbean, it was Cobra who invoked its name constantly for days after the accidental popping.
So, when Cobra lost Mimi, her silky/fuzzy blanket with the little tabs around the perimeter later that week, it should have been no surprise to us that her grief was profound and she was not going to be easily distracted from it.
The demise of Green Balloon came suddenly and unexpectedly. We had been grocery shopping and the nice cashier gave the girls two helium balloons that were tied to the register. The twins clambered up the stairs to the house, singing and giggling as they proudly pulled their balloons by their respective strings.
The joyous racket was terminated when we were all startled by a sudden POP! Green Balloon had touched a prickly leaf on one of our overgrown plants and shattered into a tiny handful of shredded latex.
Butterbean’s face collapsed into a classical mask of tragedy. Wails rang out unfettered. Tears gushed as if from broken levees. “Greeeeen Balloooooon!” she screamed.
And then it was over.
She was ready for lunch, and some quality nap time with Sheepy and Pinky, her sleep-friends.
While Butterbean contentedly shoved frozen peas into her maw, Cobra, whose Purple Balloon was still intact, had a haunted look and picked at her food distractedly. She had seen balloons lose their buoyancy and shrivel up over time, but had never witnessed them come to such a violent end.
“Green Balloon bye-bye,” she said.
“Yep. Bye-bye,” I said. “Oh well. No big deal.”
“Green Balloon all gone?”
“Yeah. But, you know…there will be other balloons.” I shrugged, palms facing upward. “It’s really nothing to worry about.”
Cobra gibbered about Green Balloon off and on for the rest of the week. She never cried, but it was clearly on her mind.
***
On Friday, when I put the girls down for their afternoon naps, Cobra’s special lovey blanket, Mimi, with which she had been sleeping since she was an infant, went missing. This was not unusual, since she often dragged it around the house with her and stashed it in unlikely places.
But this time was different. As Cobra called out from her crib for Mimi, I frantically searched the downstairs. She started quietly sobbing as I ran upstairs to look around.
Nothing.
I recruited my visiting sister and nephew for the search party, and we turned the place upside down as Cobra’s sobs turned to desperate wails. We looked in the sheets of the beds and under every piece of furniture; we peeked inside the toaster oven, the microwave, the washing machine–everywhere.
I called my wife. She mentioned caches where she had discovered things the girls had hidden. I had already checked them all.
I took Cobra in my arms and walked her around the house and out on the deck, asking where she had put Mimi.
“Mimi play sand,” she said, and I searched all around the little sandbox on the deck.
“Mimi wash,” she said.
“Mimi in the dishwasher?” I said.
“Dish wa sha” she confirmed.
But there was nothing in the dishwasher.
“Mimi ow-side,” she said. We went back onto the deck.
“Mimi umbrella.” She pointed at the canvas awning over the deck.
All right. She either didn’t know where the thing was, or she was fucking with me.
In a last ditch effort to assuage her anxiety, I dug out another silky blanket that we had bought as a backup for just such an occasion. We had been unable to find the exact duplicate of Mimi, but this one had very similar textures.
“Look. It’s new Mimi!” I said as I laid her in her crib.
“New Mimi?” She was skeptical, but not completely dismissive of the impostor blankie.
“Yeah. Soft, right? New Mimi nice!” I said in my most upbeat lilt.
“Mimi gone.”
“Well, uh…Mimi hiding. But we’ll find Mimi. Don’t worry. Anyway, you’ve got New Mimi now!”
“Mimi gone,” she repeated, holding New Mimi lightly against her face and licking it gently, the way she used to with Old Mimi. She seemed resigned to her new life without Mimi.
“Hiding,” I said.
“Gone, ” she said
I was pleasantly surprised when she went to sleep.
Well how about that, I thought, She’s pretty resilient–got over it right away.
In forty minutes, she woke up crying for Mimi. Her nap normally lasts at least two hours.
***
Before the kids’ bedtime that night, my wife, who can usually find any missing item, scoured the house for Mimi, but to no avail. All we could do was to cross our fingers and hope that New Mimi would get her through the night.
We tried not to mention Mimi (old or new), but it was on all of our minds as we had a mirthless storytime. Finally Butterbean pointed out the elephant in the room. Or the elephant that had left the room, I guess.
“Mimi all gone,” she said, pointing reverently skyward. Cobra looked into the middle distance, expressionless.
“Mimi hiding,” I corrected. “Now what book do you want to read? Last one.”
Cobra awakened from her stupor.
“Potty book?” she said.
“Okay. Potty book. Just bring it over to daddy…”
“Holy crap!” My wife said.
“What?”
“Potty!”
“Huh?”
“Don’t you see? She’s telling us that Mimi is in the potty!”
“But I looked in both of the potties,” I said.
“Yes. But did you look under the potties?” She was all the way down the stairs by the time she finished the sentence.
The bathroom door slid open downstairs. There was a clattering.
“Yes!” she shouted triumphantly.
My wife enjoyed a hero’s greeting upon returning upstairs.
“Old Mimi!” Cobra exclaimed, clutching the blanket to her face, while summarily tossing New Mimi under the bed.
“Hooray for Mommy!” I yelled.
“Potty book!” Butterbean chimed in.
“Green balloon all gone,” Cobra pointed out.
About BetaDad
dude, we really DO lead parallel lives. Or maybe it’s just a twin parent thing, and ALL of us do this. Except my version of this story would have been peppered with expletives both muttered and shouted (perhaps you just chose to leave that out?). . .
I’m very sincere when I say that I’m glad your wife found the blanket–could have been truly catastrophic, long term. . .
Twitter Name: lickthefridge
Weird, right? Your kids are into hiding stuff now too, yeah? Pretty cute, but can be panic-inducing.
Twitter Name: betadad
My middle one had a Gund polar bear which I could only get at Mervyn’s.. Throughout the years I bought 6 and saved all six in a drawer… Anyway, I showed them to her a few years ago and she laughed and cringed.. A bear held in the grips of a child looks awful over time… Worn out, squeezed to death paw… Anyway- maybe its time she have more than one security blanket?/toy? It helps in these situations… As far as the video, u can still get the effect when they’re 10 years old! and they don’t have to be twins in order to experience the shrieking….Wait till b’day parties. U will see.
Twitter Name: c. peterson
We have backups for some of their lovies, but we can’t find duplicates of a few of them. It took a little while for them to decide which ones they would get attached to, and by that time, some of them had disappeared from the shelves.
Twitter Name: betadad
I am so terrified of this very thing. My son has two lovies. Thankfully we never allowed him to take them to day care, but they are allowed out of the house on our “adventures”. One is a very beat up looking (now) triceretops and the other is a very gray (formerly white) teddy bear named Kelly (of indeterminant sex, somedays kelly is a boy, others a girl…). Only twice in his 3 years have we left Trey somewhere and the first time it was resolved in a matter of minutes as we hadn’t left the parking lot and the other was this last weekend when Trey stayed at Aunt Kat’s house instead of hopping in the car for our day-long adventure. Nothing like a missing lovie to get the adrenaline going.
We have a whole hierarchy of lovies. Some can leave the house, some can’t even leave the nursery because they’re too precious. The worst one is “Stinky Pinky,” the blanket that Butterbean sucks and chews on whenever she’s sleeping. We can’t wash it frequently enough to keep it from smelling like death and corruption. We didn’t get a backup for it because we couldn’t bear to pay 40 bucks (!) for a little 9″x9″ blanket (it was a baby shower gift from an extravagant friend.) Finally, we relented and shelled out for the backup, and–you guessed it–Butterbean will have nothing to do with it.
Twitter Name: betadad
Curious George occasionally goes to the jungle to eat bananas, at our house. Sometimes the other animals go too but luckily they’ve all come back. There is that initial moment of terror when they’re first discovered missing though.
It’s true. Anyone who saw us frantically searching the house would have assumed that we had lost a child, not a stupid blanket.
Twitter Name: betadad
T. had a sun pillow case, I had a back up and a back up to the backup. We survived.
Twitter Name: NubianOR
If we can ever find a backup for Mimi, I’ll buy a dozen of ‘em.
Twitter Name: betadad
Thumbs! They never lose them!
Well, almost never.
Twitter Name: betadad
Had to drive all the way back to my in-laws one night to retrieve beloved ‘bemmy’ to avoid a sleepless night.
I’m sure I’ll do the same someday soon. Sigh.
Twitter Name: betadad
I have had my share of turning the house upside down for my daughter’s skanky blankie. (I call it skanky, not her). It used to be blue with white clouds and now it’s a funky gray cloud silouhette that you can see through. IT smells of “death and corruption” (love that!!!!) even when it’s Downy-fresh from the drier. She’s almost 6 and it was her brother’s blanket before her. She still sucks her thumb at night and takes that blankie and her baby almost everywhere we go…I am really proud of myself for never losing it – it has travelled everywhere and been on all the rides at Disney World too! I guess my point is…there is no hope, 4 years from now you could very possibly still be turning your house upside down for Mimi. Sorry.
Twitter Name: HeatherSchiavo
“Skanky Blankie.” Nice.
Twitter Name: betadad
If you think that’s stressful BD,wait until the family loses a pet.
We had a pair of rex rabbits,George and Ringo (Always my favourites,especially George.On a completely unrelated note,he wrote the song that always makes me think of Mrs Jack).When we lost George we thought the best thing to do with Kathryn and Elizabeth (4 and 2 at the time) was to be honest and explain what happened.
I had to sleep on Kathryn’s floor that night and Elizabeth slept in our bed.
You know the phrase “Slept like a baby”?Well that’s what Kathryn did,woke up every hour crying.
Now they’re pretty good with the animals dying,and even did well when my Grandparents died (at different times,it wasn’t a Jamestown thing).
Twitter Name: JacksofBuxton
Well, that was a horrifying little story. But at least it had a nice ending. Thanks.
BTW, “Something” reminds me of the girl I had a crush on in 7th grade.
Twitter Name: betadad
You know, I was looking for REAL information to share about my child’s recent loss. And instead, I read this silly article about a—what—blankie?
I’m totally kidding. Seriously funny, BetaDad.
Twitter Name: DTKMMeLookCrazy
Haha. You scared me for a second. Especially since I just read the most gut-wrenching story in the New Yorker about a family losing their baby. Don’t read that story, whatever you do. It’s called “The Aquarium.” But don’t read it.
This was frekin hilarious. Oh and of course deep and powerful, but mostly so funny.
Thanks, Becky! You’re deep and powerful, too!
We’ve had many stories about losing our kid’s special objects. But now our first two kids are 18 and 15, and their special objects have become MY special objects. I don’t sleep with them or wander around sucking on their tags…but when I dig through the keepsake bin and come across the bunny, lamb, bear or mouse it’s like I get to reach back and have my sweet little babies again. :*) My kids say, “Gross, mom…why are you keeping that? It’s falling apart!”. But oh my gosh, I’m so glad I did!
This was all very familiar to me, but the cast was slightly different. “Pink Blanket” (we’re not good namers in my house) was the missing Mimi. And “My Balloon!” was what they called your Green Balloon.
Kids lose stuff. They should get over it.
Twitter Name: themuskrat