Monday, May 11, 2015


Becoming a parent changed me forever. I see the world with different eyes than I did two years and twenty-six days ago--I appreciate things I took for granted a thousand times; I find joy, through my son's eyes, in places I never thought to look, because the world is continually new before him. I never knew I could love someone so much. I never knew someone could love me so much.

I never realized until Baby came along that I would someday break his heart. And I didn't realize it would be before his second birthday.

It was such a simple thing. Which, of course, made it all the more tragic. I left Banky on the train.

Banky is Baby's favorite blanket. We bought Banky before Baby was born; we figured Baby would be friends with the matching teddy bear that came with it, but he's barely given the bear a second thought. Banky, on the other hand, became one of his best friends; this is a child that, when he inevitably falls down, sometimes cries "Mommy! Mommy!" but more often cries "Banky! Banky!"

You can imagine what happened when I left Banky on the train.

It still gives me pause to remember how Baby ran through the house, crying "Banky! Banky!" How he wouldn't accept any other blanket, or pillow, or stuffed animal. How we ended up rocking him and singing and cajoling and soothing for three hours before he finally succumbed to exhaustion.

The only ray of hope was that I tweeted UTA and received confirmation that Banky had been found. The next day I went to the Lost and Found on my lunch hour, because that's the least you do when you leave your son's Banky on the train. I sent commutergirl and Baby a picture of Banky from my desk at work to reassure them that I would, in fact return home with Banky that day.

In the end, commutergirl and Baby met me at the door of my place of work, because Baby was tired and grumpy and there was no reason to wait any longer. As I handed Banky back to my son and witnessed their joyful reunion, I was finally free to muse on what a bad parent I was, and how this would just be the first of many times my son's heart would break.

And I felt a sad sort of peace, because I knew that someday, when it was something bigger, I would be there to help him through it. Because when someone opens up a new world of light and wonder to you, it's the least you can do.

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