There are moments in life when you realize things will never be the same again. Sometimes they are the result of a dramatic change like a death, divorce or the departure of a dear friend to another city. Sometimes they are small shifts that still pack a seismic punch. I had one of those this weekend. Bear Bear stayed home.
Let me explain. 11 years ago I put a tiny pink, blue and yellow bear in the hospital cradle my daughter was placed in just after birth. I had selected the bear for her while registering for a million things at Babies R Us. It wasn't anything fancy. Just soft, and sweet, and it said "My First Bear." She called it "Bear Bear" as soon as she was able to talk.
She took to that bear like you wouldn't believe, prefering it to a pacifier or any other soothing item she was offered. She slept with him. Took him everywhere. We actually bought a second one just like it as Bear Bear was wearing thin. We tried to switch them out when his stuffing was falling out and his head was falling off, but she wouldn't have it. She wanted Bear Bear. So, we put some more stuffing in and sewed his neck back on to a pair of pajamas we took off another animal she wouldn't give the time of day. Since then we have sewed him back together too many times to count.
Bear Bear has gone on sleepovers and vacations. We've had to go home and get him when he's been mistakenly forgotten. And I've watched as panic set in after checking out of a hotel and Bear Bear couldn't be found, only to be discovered at the bottom of her bag.
Friday night, she went to a sleepover and Bear Bear stayed home. When I discovered him, I just knew the phone would be ringing soon asking me to bring him to her. I watched my phone all night. It never rang. No text came. The next morning I took Bear Bear into the study and showed my husband. He said what I was feeling, "our baby is growing up."
She didn't mention it when she came home. And neither did I. But I will never be the same again. Nor, do I think, will she.
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